(crossposted to instagram on august 11, 2019)
my body and i are not on speaking terms. last night i dreamt of the sharp pinch of a needle and woke up gasping, hand to my heart—as if this becoming could be crushed, as if my name wasn’t already a prayer. every morning i force my skin on but someday i’ll have two pink scars on my chest and i won’t have to catch my breath. don’t call me boy. call me holy. call me divine. call me the constant churn of something yet to come. --my guardian angel’s on testosterone by nathan l.
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(crossposted to instagram august 7, 2019)
transcript: it’s august and summer settles heavy on the sidewalk. eight weeks since i last exhaled and the sky is none the wiser. eight weeks and no one really knows me. i want to be as tender as the moon but i think i’ll have to settle for the streetlamps instead. like water steaming off the asphalt. like brown hills in the hazy air. hozier made me cry in the car the other day and i’ve been thinking a lot about loving at the end of the world. that’s it, i think. to be loved. to be found. to be known. that’s all. —untitled, by nathan l. (crossposted on instagram on august 19, 2019 for a collab with @sharkfinpoet)
things you said under the stars and in the grass by nathan l. do you ever think about the end of the world? sometimes. why? i do. just. it seems impossible to think one day this is all going to be gone. that we’re the last generation to see the stars. yeah. exactly. i try not to think about it. me too. nights like this i can pretend, though. the dark is just velvet enough for me to believe we’re indestructible. seems like it’s something in the night breeze. yeah. the sky just after sunset. the very first star emerging from the infinite blue. like time seems like it could stretch into forever. very poetic. thanks. i try. … what are you thinking about? the heat death of the universe. … what are you thinking about? you. |
AuthorNathan Lee's poetry and prose. More of my work can be found on my Instagram. Archives
March 2020
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