There’s no erasing in this game.
A red among pinks.
Or, a pink among reds, if we talk wine.
It’s boring to say We Die
Alone. It doesn’t just mean you are the only one
dying. You are in coin-eyed company, god
pieces glistening as they exit
the thing they thought was them. Dear friend,
hold hand, trace life line & crow’s foot.
What you leave is not you.
What you see is not you.
What you think is not you.
We are a human web together.
I want to be better
at experiencing alone
physically, with feelings.
We are uncomfortable with these things.
There’s no erasing in this game.
I would rather not white out, I want to see the rings,
the fires, the droughts, the wet years.
I want to smell dust and musk.
No wonder those walled into bone feel alone.
Recall the smell of drilled teeth,
sick scents, god pieces
glistening as they exit the thing they thought was them.
PLEASE LOVE YOUR AGING FACE
I’ve read books. I’ve seen the messy sea
foam like bath water, cloud like dishwater, dark like heart water.
My hair lifts like it’s blowing,
but we are just in this bar,
and you are talking like you’re an authority on everything,
and people hate that. People don’t want to feel inferior. Again.
This got under my skin, a metal instrument
cutting my face from my skull. You will look so young.
Please delete the shitting things that want to come out of your mouth.
I love my aging face.
Please love your aging face.
I’ve read books. I’ve seen the messy sea.
Nathan Wade Carter is a poet, musician and artist living in Portland, Oregon. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Potluck Magazine, Souvenir, OCHO: A Journal of Queer Arts, and Big Big Wednesday. He writes and performs songs under the name Purrbot. His music can be found on Bandcamp and Spotify. Find him online at nathanwadecarter.com.