Instagram story viewer> @abiwritesagain> Posts

abiwritesagain

@abiwritesagain

142

followers

59

following

I have long been enamored with the art of storytelling | sonnets on my skin + flowers in my hair | photographer at @abiqphoto

POSTS STORIES REELS TAGGED

tuesday morning and the bus driver is crying as she passes me,
staring into the sun,
face twisted as tears fall down her face
and the father in the next car swears and pulls down his visor as he ducks,
his son raises a fist
and
i stare it straight in the face,
daring it to blink first

i keep waiting for the other shoe to drop,
maybe it already did
holding my breathe so the jump scare is more of a skip,
a blip then a boo

does it ever get easier to breathe?

-

Art for the sake of art, because I can. Too often I try and make sense of things. Too many things on my to do list and the time I can feel it slipping, must cross off five things today instead of four, must make it across the finish line ruined and with every drop spent.
-

I need to make more work this fall, would love to make it with you. Reach out if your interested, I have several cities waiting for another family or session to book. NYC- MENDO - LA -You know what to do. 🖤✨

-
PS is this not the best thing ever? Obsessssssed taken in University Place, Washington by @abiwritesagain

62

30

a month ago

An old one, but one that still makes me rage when I read it which I feel like is the very best kind of poem. Oh you still have anger buried? Let’s go there babe.

Anyways, I’m back. Hope you missed me. #abiwritesagain #poemsandpower #poems #abiwritesagain taken in Tacoma, Washington by @abiwritesagain

9

3

7 months ago

what the fuck is the algorithm these days
I think we live in a ghost town,
I think we’re in the middle
and don’t know it,
maybe the good place

I think no one cares and everyone does
and my heart skips two million beats a minute
and I wonder if it is the caffeine or the rain or the fact that
everyone will die, you and me

mortality our only absolutes

and yet I sit and you sit and we tap on this screen and we pretend it is living

_

What does any of it mean?

Brother, me, dad, Thanksgiving morning walk | Portland, OR | Film

#abiwritesagain #abiqfilm taken in Portland, Oregon by @abiwritesagain

15

2

10 months ago

Breaking dishes is easier then washing them | a poem | a project | something I had to set free

———

against the wall at first
one after the other
then the thought that I’ll have to sweep if i continue

(and
so )

i gather armfuls and head to the balcony,
screaming as they shatter on the cement below

here’s for your expectations
here’s for the version of me you thought I’d stay

five plates all at once
fucking free
a wine glass with some wine left
maroon
speckled pottery
what a time to be alive!
a bowl of rolls over the railing
some peas, a spoon
and that damn carrot salad no one touched

what remains is a confeti party of fragments

art some might call it

- Breaking dishes is easier then washing them

#abiwritesagain taken in Tacoma, Washington by @abiwritesagain

89

20

3 years ago

#abiwritesagain by @abiwritesagain

3

1

4 years ago

Do I post the photo of my dad at his grandparents grave? Do I mention that I’m deep in the grieving? Do i tell you that i waited to get the film developed, both the tri-x and the super 8 from last October and i didn’t get the scans in my inbox until after I had cut contact? That the timing seemed weirdly divine and also sad af.

Do I say that my heart physically ached.
That I listened to my gut.
I didn’t send it.
I also didn’t punch a wall in my sleep this time.
This time, I didn’t betray myself.

Do I tell you that when the physical film was delivered to my mailbox, it was the day my mail was stolen? Something that had never happened before, nor has happened since. Do i point out that those files are now gone, like ghosts. Poetic and tragic and all
the things.

A sign of one chapter closing perhaps.

Memories that didn’t need to be saved.

#abiwritesagain by @abiwritesagain

3

2

4 years ago

Burning it all down. 🔥🔥 #yearofthetiger by @abiwritesagain

3

1

4 years ago

.
Was it conscious?

did you have children
one after the other
knowing already that you would replace me?

was it premeditated?

or (perhaps even worse?) do you simply not remember me

do I slip from your mind so easily,
your eldest

your source of joy

your great disappointment

am i forgettable?

forgotten. forsaken. forlorn.

fuck this.

free.

- the stages of grief taken in San Francisco, California by @abiwritesagain

3

3

4 years ago

11:11
.
.

#abiwritesagain #poetry taken in Tacoma, Washington by @abiwritesagain

12

0

5 years ago

.
I am done tiptoeing
and silencing
myself

holding my voice
my breathe
my being
in

to satisfy you,
I made myself small
to make you more comfortable
to not disturb the peace

like I am ten again
in that closet

(it is all I know)

like I am seventeen
unseen

her
the other version of me on the couch
the one who smiled

i want to be, but i do not know what that means

I crave destruction
I dream of black holes and voids
and falling

I want to scream until I hear an echo
like wolves in the night
until the wild in me is calmed
(or maybe
perhaps free? )

i want to break dishes
and throw open doors and
(scream, I want to scream)
i want to fall through windows
(and)
i want to punch the mirror

maybe it’s the reflection
maybe it’s the truth
maybe it’s her eyes

I am angry, I am undone
(i am not to be trusted)

- year of the tiger

#abiwritesagain taken in Tacoma, Washington by @abiwritesagain

12

0

5 years ago

.
I drink wine,
to numb

and
I explain the house and the courts
the checks and balances
the rules of the law
the electoral college.

and I take another sip.

drowning,
slowly,
intentionally.

and then we go around the dining table, asking each who will win
and it’s a resounding 45,
much to my dismay
and I burst into tears when husband agrees,
bc he never does.

hopeless.
empty.
wasteland.

can we move to Mexico with france and fair? my oldest asks

my middle wonders where Bangladesh is
and we find it on a map

Ry says we can move for awhile.

if we needed to.

Indie runs around the room, unaware.
and
I long to be like him, uninhabited, free.

a vacation house in Mexico maybe.
the illusion of freedom.

and yet, here we sit.

closed borders.
crying at dinner.

#abiwritesagain by @abiwritesagain

7

0

6 years ago

.
what is life but a beautiful nightmare
this waltz
merely
a dance with death
-
around any corner
the unknown
fragile and haunted
we waltz
#abiwritesagain by @abiwritesagain

9

2

6 years ago