Steeped Daydreams by: Lyndsi Inez Copyright © 2023 Lyndsi Inez Cover art by Kaleb Duggan find more of his work on Instagram @toasty.tuna ISBN: 9798836298227 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews. Dedicated to Alaina and LaDrina Chase dreams, don't worry about money. - Mac Miller CONTENTS Be sure flame is completely out after each use 10 I’m always writing about unrequited love 11 Psilocybin Dreams 12 Not a Valentine’s Day poem 15 Cyanotype Girls 17 a droopy mess that can’t be saved (not even by a botanist) 20 bruiser boy loves golden haired girl 23 laissez faire lovers 25 little pink book 26 the crow and the snake 28 co-dependent’s confessional 29 depression can give you wings 31 we’re not really strangers, are we? 34 playing restaurant 35 recovery curious 37 When is a monster not a monster? 39 To the Earth floating in space, turning on her axis everyday: 42 nervousness, how lovely 44 Steeped Daydreams 45 imitations in an emergency 47 How to deseed a pomegranate: 48 From Zelda to Scott 50 temperance xiv 56 - iPhone 57 rich man's playground 58 unwanted affection 60 NOTES: 61 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: 63 7 “How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this, I need someone to pour myself into” - Sylvia Plath I: 9 Be sure flame is completely out after each use As if the hospital walls hadn’t shared a pack of Marlboro Reds with my mom when I was squirming to get out of her belly He made me stand on the other side of him He said he didn’t want me to be caught downhill with the smoke I say it’s disgusting that he makes out with lonely girls when his solitude becomes too much to bear Like brewing coffee out of your dad's ashes He doesn’t disagree. He throws me the lighter. I like how warm the flame is against my skin. It doesn’t take a second for me to peel the warning label off with my nails I’m always writing about unrequited love A mess of colors roll over onto the paper. It would be beautiful If I could not read But my eyes never rest- There is always something new to see. Just one kiss would turn to just one more. And then I’d be writing poems about you While I’m in the shower, at school, or trying to sleep. Love is the dentist That traumatized you as a kid. My teeth hurt now A cavity left unfilled. 11 Psilocybin Dreams sitting crisscross-applesauce on midnight blue carpet sipping on lattes medium iced vanilla chais yours made with oat milk mine with almond a lukewarm splash of espresso in both plus, a sprinkle of something else outside an unforgiving tundra threatens us with consequences and imprisonment we aren’t allowed they say to trip over our licorice legs and conjure up a Bandersnatch we aren’t allowed to be avid archers on the backs of horses saving others from a harsh reality we aren’t allowed to bring them back to the midnight blue carpet and hold their noses while they take to our drinks we aren’t allowed to hold their hands as they begin to see as startled as a newborn 13 til’ the hallucinations fade the realization of oppression comes and permeates our tongues a bitter but sweet earthy taste Not a Valentine’s Day poem This isn’t a Valentine’s Day poem, no. It's just overwhelming infatuation, all wrapped up nicely with a pretty bow It’s red and pink construction paper hearts. No, that's my younger self, she didn’t have her first kiss until she was 17. I think she’s making up for lost time. No, it's not her this time. It’s that I don’t want you to leave. I like being your pretty pink-tongued lap dog Even when you go days without feeding me I desperately lick the bowl when you finally come home with food. A girl’s gotta eat It’s the snow capped mountains that we hiked up 15 When I turned to look at you, you weren’t by my side. I took a picture of your ghost’s long curly hair. Hopefully the flash from the camera didn’t scare you away. These red and pink flags are a little faded from the cold air but I pick them all like flowers and shove them in my backpack anyways alongside the pretty rocks I found yesterday that I hope to show you later Even with all the glitter glue, lollipops, and stickers this still isn’t a Valentine’s Day poem is it? Cyanotype Girls Oh, to be a cyan girl in this big blue world Pupils bigger than the iris. Her mind brought to the surface and then pushed back down again. Droplets of sweat collect under my long sleeve shirt I want to take it off and lay next to her I pull on the strap of her lace thong the way black vultures drag guts across the yellow lines in the pavement. A picture taken, the flash unexpected. A whine for the photographer to come back to bed 17 Oh, to be the wide-eyed girl with tan lines on my skin and highlights in my hair. Iris disappears behind the pupil. Clouds lie lazily all around us and we blow smoke through them. In bottles of solutions: A vague blueprint for how to reach this state of ecstasy. II: 19 a droopy mess that can’t be saved (not even by a botanist) a golden-haired girl cut her own bangs and drank too much moscato last night she didn’t cry (though, she really wanted to) she woke up a lil after 1 PM and shared a tall glass of water with her friends: daffodil, haworthia, and lavender. the puppies and the kitties who passed by and cared to lounge on her porch didn’t have much to say when she asked “Are you sleepy today too?” all they said was “You asked us that yesterday!” yawning as they went on their merry way