Author Archives: jordynsaelor

legend has it

(part 1 of Can’t Catch Me Now) Legend has it our ancestors came crawling from the ocean to avoid a whirlpool and built log huts to sleep in then never left. Legend has it, the whirlpool came from an angered sea god, and legend says a land god gave our ancestors legs and lungs toContinue reading “legend has it”

Perfection-whism

Sometimes I feel I have to present my bestest self just for someone to take notice, and if nobody does I just gotta try harder. I just gotta cut sharper through the apathy, trickle a clever-er metaphor into someone’s heart like suddenly their veins will go “Oh, I understand.” But sometimes, I need to breakContinue reading “Perfection-whism”

Anxiety’s got its boot to the neck

As much as I demand it let up, anxiety keeps its boot to my throat, leaving me crevices to breathe while all my instincts shout get out get out, get up run before each smiling stranger hiding fangs (so hungry) finishes the job– mustn’t let anyone see me this way, I’m, yeah, I’m okay ((anContinue reading “Anxiety’s got its boot to the neck”

May my rage sustain me

I don’t know how to make sense of the world I don’t know how to cure it, like water seeping through my hands all I’m left with is a hope a drop drying out my skin, collective action wrecked in factions another poem added to the archive fury uphold this perseverance is my existence resistanceContinue reading “May my rage sustain me”

Wisdom of the Ancients

If I could go back to my prime with all I know now, maybe I could really accomplish something. Make something of my joyous name, make this laughing spell between us stay the same. But what is my “prime”? Seven years old, innocent, playing games of succession? Eleven, on the cusp of depression? Older, myContinue reading “Wisdom of the Ancients”

Child of Rust

child of rust birthed of dust, passenger clouds make heaven shrouds, open your eyes, deserted cries, forgotten ages of societies vast, prophetic pages now apocalypse past: a stench blew in like rot meets ruin, a storm stirring sand, cup water in hand, drink child of dust, birthed of rust cities– bow back the sea swordContinue reading “Child of Rust”

mattress myth

my blanket is falling off the side of the world to a primordial quagmire in the dark. Titans roam beneath the bed, mystery and fire, memory and sight, but their shapes are too ancient for my eyes or my dreams tumbling to instinctual terror, the site of Tartarus, to parse. I cannot look and know,Continue reading “mattress myth”

Royal “we”

Is royal “we” a form of gaslighting? Like, yes, peasant, we think you should pay more taxes, you’re outnumbered. Yes, the collective group think has decided, and you’re the minority vote. Listen, we have your best interest in mind, your needs will be considered as a fraction of our pie. But hey, I totally speakContinue reading “Royal “we””