N y s s a F r a n k
Nyssa's writings are influenced by her BA in Philosophy from UCSB. All her poems and stories discuss death, mortality, self, and control.
Terminal Intrusion is the name of her solo performance project, as well as the name of a zine she released of poems and drawings.
Let us embrace questions first and foremost.
And let us embrace questions with multiple answers. AND let us embrace questions with multiple answers that are forever changing. For these are the only kinds of questions I ask myself. I am “training” myself to live in a state of flux, realize that the world is literally in constant motion, everything on it, in it is changing is LIVING. Words also are alive. Every word I write down is both an opening to a thought, and is also chained to that word’s meaning, or more importantly, chained to the reader’s meaning of that word.
Words enable communication, growth, knowledge, and change, but they are also one of our biggest hinderances and an enormous reason for conflict. How I define one word is very different from how others define it. This is extremely dangerous, for even the word "woman" holds infinite meanings, infinite perspectives and connotations. It is a heavy word. It is also a word that is in flux, that is changing.
Circumstantial Relativity:
she turned around
and the world turned with her
peripheral vision blurred
mind stirred
unseeing the surrounding
sounds
she took a step forward
and the world moved further
slipping, falling, unable to control
movements, seeing nothing but improvements
new roads, cracks filled in
smooth cement spreading like a virus
sticking to her shoes she thinks about the
whose who
did she like the road before
the damaged varicose-vein asphalt
to love the unimproved
the dangerous pimpled road
ankle twisting and dogs shitting
one eye infested kittens road
Whose road was it?
is it?
the undefinable filled with helium floating into
the purgatory of circumstantial relativity
yolk of the unborn frying on the steaming rocks
cumming out of the virgin cocks
who stare at the ever-changing being that you are
How can you recognize me.
i feel my face
weighed down by
the laws of nature
she turns around and sees the world
she is inside it, in a womb,
floating unable to move
watching people pass
touching her gelatin translucent home
judging her undeveloped being
eyelashes and fingernails and hairs
even the air cannot be still
even the air wants to be more
than it is
moving through mouths
inside ears
between legs
sucking in new smells
and spreading them out
warm butter melting
dissipating into the sponge like dough
even the air will always be hungry
stomach roaring like tornados
munching on the moving homes
to make something
is to move matter around
preexisting things,
a painting, is paint moved from the tube,
to the brush, to the canvas.
let’s move matter together
moving minds that matter
dont they all.
she turned and she turned the earth
for the earth is hers
it is the only world she knows
obese with dreams,
waking wants
the unknown
the unseen
a world whose stomach is
full of searchers
and lying humans
and gravity
a pregnant world who will never give birth
us dependent on the placenta that is oxygen
we kick
contractions quaking the ground
swollen ankles from carrying us
she turned and turns the earth
eyes projecting
refracting the light
all that is
known is insight
new thoughts
are rearranged words
preexisting words
letters
sounds
all is already known
yet her mind aches with a beautiful longing
her heart beats to the sounds of nature
she sees the many levels of knowledge
to know
to learn
to see
to comprehend
moving matter
moving words
moving minds
she becomes dizzy
spinning in this pregnant earth
time serenading her
waiting for her on her doorstep
with dying flowers
she falls in love
time and her walk hand in hand
to embrace the end
while devouring the now
is all that is.
Shit is
Rimming my mind
with salt
sucking in the fermenting thoughts
wrinkling soft skin sags
bounce back
licking my
crusted lips exfoliate
degenerate cracking
dead skin
cells pollinating the inanimate
oils
repairing momentary
madness
let the blood flow
let the blood flow
let the blood flow
let the blood flow
iron flavored mortality
iron flavored mortality
short circuit the bones
wired for forward motion
unwind unedit
autocorrect my thoughts
this is not a word
where do they go
once they leave
me
were they ever mine?
did I feed them, bathe them,
did I listen to them,
crunching down on their savory medley
i devour
they get stuck in my teeth
sprinkled on my clothes
enter my throat, stomach
and then I shit them out.. keep only the nutrients…
I wish.
I dream of shit daily
unflushable
the left over
the unneeded
the excess
I dream of shit daily
Double click here to add text.
Published Essay: "This is"
Time isn’t working
Like it used to
But maybe now
It is working like it should
Long and soft
It finds places
For me to put things
However, my thoughts
Now have no beginning or end
I cannot tell
If that is a good thing
My eyes grow clearer, and I cannot see beyond the close up.
The veined leaves,
the innocent insect,
the breeze flowing through everything equally.
I cannot see beyond the raindrop, dewdrop, petal,
soberly I witness this world,
magnetized.
This world unaware of us,
going, growing,
moving along the only way it knows how,
adaptation.
I try not to part with the now,
to embrace and devour,
but tomorrow stabs and slices at
my time,
my sweet time,
My salty tomorrow,
stinging tomorrow,
never ending tomorrow,
I love you because
I do not know you.
