These Are Not My Twitter Drafts

absolute heated discussion of queen Victoria

“siri, can I survive on bacon indefinitely?”

I can recall pine trees from memory

psychiatrist referred to me as well adjusted only three times today

does a bird have my 2 dollars?

we’re always wasting something, like wrapping a gift in paper

try to tell someone how to use spray ‘n wash without sounding condescending

you said copper is your favorite word, but did you really mean my hair

eating half a sleeve of ritz crackers while deciding what to order on postmates and never actually ever having used postmates

a word better than beautiful

libra sun, virgo moon, does this mean anything

it’s impossible to hear the wind and do anything but sit on the nearest ledge and forget to eat

yes, you can have your crocs delivered to my apartment

pants so high-waisted I disappear

it’s been four days and now you think your eyelids were just built like that

I could tear a single hair from smooth skin

saving old receipts is actually not good for anything

if you play mortal kombat and you don’t get blisters on your fingers, did you actually play mortal kombat?

loved a man once who could identify plants. all of them.

loved a women once who loved a boy

Turns out, to each their own does not apply to sixth story hotel rooms

you can’t open those windows wide enough for a body

lawsuits I presume

there’s at least 3 jars of quarters buried in yerington, nevada.

if i’ve said it once, i’ve said it a thousand times: kiss your friends on the mouth

does everyone know a horse girl?

send flowers to boys

I’m a lot prettier once you get to know me

if you have enough charisma, you can keep your socks on during sex

promised my psychiatrist i’d eat twice a day

bigger than a memory, but smaller than a shadow

mom, i’m fine

the sun is closer to the earth in the winter

spent another entire day hurting my own feelings

wondering if brian from the corner store would be interested in my twitter drafts

am i allowed to allude to kissing a cadaver in a poem yes or no

furious to be sentient

trauma. trying to verb it: traumad traumaing

centipede pet

in the ancient art of talking with your mouth closed

the neighbors didn’t accept my gift of homegrown tomatoes

coming to terms with the fact that “violent-adjacent” is best case scenario

railroad track parking spot

orange the color of yellowish orange, but with some red

wait but can’t we just like, print more money?

not here to debate the merits of vodka

what even am i allowed to pray about

crucifix tooth

forgot where i was last night

convinced myself i was already dead

briefly beautiful

title ideas: the five only things, eyes like christmas, about the taste of pennies

which font best says, “i get laid”

insist on stories, most of all

if dust is mainly human skin, there is romance on my shelf

zac and i will start a retro wendy’s

fell in love with another person and another person and another person

love feels the way the moon sounds

does the sun sound like death

tub of sunscreen

“siri, take care of me”

masculine chrysanthemums

i wonder if anybody’s felt my river kisses

Courtney Cliften was raised in the Nevada Desert. She writes poetry as an MFA candidate at the University of Nevada, Reno. Her poems have appeared in The Meadow, Helen Literary Magazine, An Anthology of Emerging Poets, and more. Twitter and Instagram: @courtneycliften