Three Poems

by Theo Thimo

confused, smelling a flower


some dude gave me such a look today, it fucking killed me to the core, I don't even know what to do about it

I assume myself to appear to others a fully developed and whole thing, drinking chamomile tea 5:42AM in my kitchen doing yoga and thinking about the weather

I, too, believed in many things but it did not help me in the way you may think, unable to believe anything that is going on with my life right now, all those many worlds in which for us to peer

does it even matter if anything happens, aimlessly walking around trying to find food and drink, unsure if diarrhea, it seems plausible if everything were the way it was supposed to be then nothing would have begun in the first place

I’m sitting here thinking about what to do, outside it’s raining and there’s nothing going on, I hold something about beauty by which I keep to myself

soon to be happy inside the expanding sun, looking at videos, eating chips out of a plastic bag, and inhaling a blend of fumes, I felt at a loss so I went away for a while but now I'm back and with something of promise




April 2 2019


I will be back home to you soon
but there is no home, and I do not have you

and the days have gone quiet and aloof,
floating across measures of time all sexually enticing to my nostalgia

why am I judged so harshly for my memes?

the first gay communist I've met is dead
I want to dedicate this poem to him




December 16 2019


You've come here with the right things to say but no one ever believes you. It's time to turn this peace into yourself. I'll be right back but never forget me. No matter who your mother is, but I'll stop right there. Everything I've been taught to do, I do. When I'm older things will matter. After 100 days I can do anything. I can sing even though I don't know how. If someone needs help I'll try. I'm not trying to confuse you, it's just I don't know either. Every time I cry, I see myself cry and cry. Everything I love seems to kill me incrementally. Sometimes I'm ashamed to express myself because I've hurt someone in the past.

Theo Thimo blogs and tweets.

Photograph: Whippets