Breia Gore

Breakup Poem #6

When a lie about death gets written
in this solar system, where are the ones
without emotional tolls?

In Oklahoma City, Dillion joked about living
a gypsy life and I did not care enough to look
up if the word is still offensive or not.

I want to live a gypsy life too and fight for
something other than checking privilege
(for food, for love, for philosophizing).

I tried to save a whole city before I saved
myself. I beg to live alone, lay jealousy
down, and tell the truth.

(I want to write a poem)
(I want to write a poem about myself)
(I want to write a poem about myself dying)

(I want to exercise)
(I want to exercise muscle)
(I want to exercise muscle memory)

(I want to walk)
(I want to walk away)
(I want to walk away from myself)

(This is an exercise)
(This is an exercise for myself)
(This is an exercise for myself as a woman)

Breakup Poem #7

Redirection, humiliation, and sacrifice
does not make me wet,
society does not move.

The database of intelligence wrapped
in Fungus pleads me, politely, to say,
in my prettiest voice,

Can we drop it all
and heal the earth?

I plead, I am not above

the domination of tourists.
I am not above the domination
of engagement rings and baptisms.

I am not above attention and cleansing.
I am not above pool water. I am not above
ancient upkeepings.

I am not above tarot cards and small victories.
I am not above dance rituals and smoke. I am not
above fighting until you are sedated.

I am not above the thirty-percent effectiveness
of placebos. I am not above imagination
with no purpose, value, or voice.

Remember when I had none?

I look outside and I want nothing to do with this.

I look outside and I want no more.

Breakup Poem #8

crimes / poem or plea / i am saving up for plane tickets to go and see / my fabricated love / thunderstorms needed every other night / guaranteed transportation / grits with water / six lighters packed only to by left behind (airplane violations) / unlikely to be lead in the wrong direction (on me - a learning compass) / flatten me out on hawaiian rock when i am out of my middle ages / wisdom teeth growing in before i grew up / do you see where i am going with this / i traded my childhood stuffed animals for a few hotel teabags / and while in the mix knew a keychain in a gift shop was waiting for me somewhere out there

Breia Gore is an Asian-American artist from the South, USA, based in the Midwest, USA. She is an English student, Editor-in-Chief of Axolotl Literary and Burnout By DeZine, and author of Not For Us To Conquer (Finishing Line Press) and Leo Hovering (Bottlecap Press). A Pushcart Prize Nominee, her work has appeared in Pink Apple Press, G-Mob Mag, Rogue Agent, Perhappened, and Nymphs Publications, amongst others. Follow her @breiagore.