little sense

it’s the little sense

the peering lecture

swallowed deeper

living tucked in words

in the bit of resonance

languishing in tone

all the pieces buckling

the knees, also

there’s no innocence

none left at all

only need remains

– sheila c

May, Lancaster, 2020

i fold the laundry

i dry the dish

i open the carport

i close the door

i type the words

but the words own me

the world owns me

the very beating of my heart owns me

it’s all very troublesome

I claw at freedom

and freedom pushes back

“don’t claw at me” she says

well, fuck.

 

– sheila c.

 

Brooklyn, April, 2020

it’s night here and

the ambulances are blaring

one after the next

i wanted to give you this

in case time gets in the way

take in the air

like the first

like the last

fill your hands

with clay

with sand

with paint

fill your mouth

with lovers

with drink

with rage

but never default to revenge

eat your words

when you have to

(if you have to)

and don’t let them forget

you’re from the jungle

born from dark earth

the very clay dirt

formed by singed hands

in a coral hearth

what the fuck do they know?

-sheila c.

cardinal

the cardinal came by today

little flash of red pulsing life

i am jealous of his vigor

his will..

long ago I told a myself a lie

and I told it so often

i began to believe it

it exists now in the space between dreams

and stillness

a silent hum I can’t escape

respite exists only in the seconds

the second I open my eyes

the second I smell the citrus in my panicked tea

the second I type the words I need said

the second I imagine taking a last breath

and being born again

a red breast and beak and vigor

there is no respite like the seconds

but there is no punishment like them either

– sheila c.

all flowers are dying flowers

I wanted to complain to you about Werner Herzog,

you’re the only one who would understand

but I’ll settle for picking up my phone

and pretending I’m not hoping

the algorithm will work to populate your name on my screen

I actually really hate your name

I also “loved” a dude in Germany by the same name

he’s also a heartbreaking cunt

I’m sorry, that’s actually just the hurt

lashing out

It’s been days and the change of heart that’s been keeping me sane

has not happened.

I’m starting to believe I invented this tragedy

like I do, all my tragedies

fuck it, I’m floundering, right now

BUT

In 3 weeks, I’ll move faster

I’ll have new limbs

and they’ll be so fucking dope

you won’t be able to look away

I mean that sounds pathetic but it’s not

I just want you to know that

i’m not pathetic

– sheila c.

wednesday songs

I can hear the city bellowing outside

and Wednesday is groaning out

a lingering goodbye

I am watching your breath rise,

grateful for the air in your lungs

they sing the sun to me

they sing

and there is no longing here

not now, in this calm

there is only the bliss

etched on your skin;

permeating my own

and the sinking feeling disappearing somewhere within

I pour my hopes into a

thought

I let it sit

and learn time does stop

after all

– sheila c.

untitled 08.01.19

i don’t have the words

i only have a blue so wide

and alive

that it breathes on its own

this is the part i don’t like

where Bonnie sits on repeat

where day dreams are nightmares

and memories are knives

digging deeper every time i forget

to forget

I can feel the depths of estrangement pooling

in my guts

it seems

i would be the mass

and you would be the gravity

after all.

– sheila c

flame

I dreamt that the gods picked me out of bed

and shook me violently

they had grown tired of my struggle

and breathed bravery into my lungs

i was not born ready for this

but something has changed

it was desire that made me weak

so I will take those parts you claimed

and build a new fire

a new flame to consume the old

and burn the blame

– Sheila C.

 

 

in another life

in another life,

many lives from now,

i will move you.

i will shatter the earth

beneath your feet

and you will fall so deeply

the steam will sear your lashes.

you will hope, in dismay,

for a glance

in a crowded room.

the smell of my skin

will stay trapped in your hair,

in your hands

and you will not be able to look away.

I will flood you

until you are choking with grief.

you will hurt for me,

one day,

I know.

but in this life,

it seems it is

my turn.

– sheila c.