What’s The Difference Between The Physiological & Psychological? Nothing. Eat Me.

Eat them, then watch Jeremiah’s poem, or, maybe watch the poem, then eat them. Regardless of your appetite, for Walton or distraction, there’s no walls separating the physiological & physical.

This poem “I Hate My Body : On Making Love” is the first piece in this “Write The Poem, Record, Upload,” series I’ve been anxious to upload—but that’s the point of this, learning to use “social media publishing” to let go of shame surrounding vulnerabilities, to practice that elusive healing hiding under scabs & over futures (futures yanked full-torque by renditions of the past forgetting the present & wrenching a volatile sensation of aliveness associated w. aliveness) & to slow down into acknowledging hurts while continuing to grow, expand, consume & produce.

Luckily, there’s plenty of anxiety left to spread over following pieces as new spaces for new feelings are made.

I Hate My Body : On Making Love

All that shit. I’m still in the space between burning myself off the internet

or…..not sure. Yet. To quote a line in the next video to be posted :

“Maybe I should crash my car in Panama, say I did what I could
to sacrifice the scapegoats & hold the ideation accountable—well, at least
until this note smolders w. life—or maybe,”

but that’s not today’s poem. Today’s more… “outside those mornings

that crack open your car w. dawn’s yolk, & you open the door 
& the air sticks up your skin for water, mugs you
awake, & reminds you, ‘aye—ain’t that

your body right there…?'”

**inhales** Okay. Those words aren’t in the poem,
but maybe they’re between the performance & the page. **exhales**

Fuck it. Here it is :


Gate’s Pass, Arizona, ~4.9.18



Shout out to Suza Weise for coming out w. me to film this, & helping hold up the piece in all that wind. Suza’s a dope Tucson artist & practitioner of integrative healing. Dig her love & work on Patreon as she moves towards creating a podcast on vulnerability & healing ❤

& thank you desert stars : shadows : cacti : these shadows’ shadows : those coyote howls : those mountains : all these forms moving thru the imaginative dark & massaging this form w. a silence that allowed these muscles to relax for the first time since I’ve been back in Tucson 

Yeah, & a little pot helped w. the after-care.


“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

&, I mean, I guess you can also hit me up on all 3… ya know? Show some love to this weird kid who’s shit w. self-promotion! Thanks for the support y’all!

& much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤