sent from my iPhone; ain't no mountain; lurid
sent from my iPhone
an open end, lying and distributed spread thin
until a large mass just right at the edge, where i
happened to clean my knife off. taking a bite
out of yours; vicariously doesn’t cut it
fiendishly fighting limitations, lamenting about
the rain because i don’t want mud on my back
and the possibility of fucking falling (wet).
scanning thoroughly amidst the options,
coming to an understanding that i need to leave
here’s a love letter in the bizarre and forbidden.
ain't no mountain
“we need people like johnny,” i tell you in the heat of it, sitting in
the van gogh bar, with ceilings like stairs. we’re
fighting but it’s not it, everything is silent around us and the
intensity of the conversation seems like a dance and everyone
could hear but no one was there and the lighter clicks
meet me at my usual spot?
run around past knife clock hands, through the back;
hiding in my hoodie. i’ll be there in a hurry, you don’t have
to worry / running into you is a dream
we duck by and through trying to get to you,
the veracity of which knocks us on our feet and leaves us
struggling to breathe
I love to laugh with you
looks could kill if they came in a beret
confined rectangularly, staring blankly adjacent to the television
mounted. beneath the gaze, blood puddles on the door underneath a
cot (similar to the one I experienced at the Nurse’s). the iridescent
green looms and the TV seems to spew something about death. I
wrap the body bloodied, and kick it under the bed.
in the common area, heat passes through and seems to stick to the
exists outside of the home. complementary notions of color in the
wrong saturation give light to some entropy deep inside: I don’t
know who these people are.
our beds are laid out in the center of the room. perhaps there is fear
that the walls will continue their massacre. i don’t know who all
died, just that their presence still lingered and nothing was said.
blood is thicker than water;
i don’t think i can float.
Ena Kantardžić is a queer artist working in gay nightlife who creates work from an immediate perspective. Growing up in Boston, by way of being born a refugee in Germany during the time of the Bosnian War, their work focuses on chaos and the phenomenon of spontaneous order that occurs within that.