last night at 2:15 am i stared at my phone and typed a thousand things
i sent none of them.
last night at 3:18 am i jumped in my skin as it lit up in blue
one new message from you.
last night at 3:19 am i texted you something i don't remember
it didn't matter.
last night at 3:26 am i sat and waited for nothing in the dark
monsters live under my bed.
last night at 3:49 am i gazed up at a moon that didn't know i existed
meaninglessness is comforting.
last night at 3:51 am i replied with a 'k' and appropriate emojis
everything is trivial.
last night at 4:03 am i talked about nothing and you were perfect
we congratulated ourselves on survival.
last night at 4:11 am i stopped and breathed and looked at the dark
it never looks back at me.
last night at 4:31 am i wavered and cracked and tears came alive
set fire to my skin.
last night at 4:34 am i told you things i thought i'd keep forever
i'm always losing.
last night at 4:37 am i heard things that stabbed me in the throat
with a smile and caress.
last night at 4:42 am i cried and i thanked you dearly for my tears
every last one.
last night at 4:44 am i laughed and shook and woke up the moon
it stared back and shone again.
last night at 4:47 am i said goodnight, i love you, sweet dreams, i love you
you said it back and it didn't hurt.
last night at 4:52 am i read over and over, words marching in war
my eyes bled and i let them.
last night at 5:09 am i slept
and slept
and had no dreams.

half eaten
half ******
chewed on one edge
melted too quickly
with the summer sun
thongs and a beach towel
discarded, too sticky
for hands that can't love yet
bounce once
spin twice
flat on the concrete
reflect
in orange
the happy rays
as laughter walks by
shoeprints and toes
kicked once
slid twice
to rest in the gutter
waiting for rain
two seasons away
then down
down
down
now
somewhere that is not here.

poetry
is a certain kind of death
all in itself.

the sort that strings your heart out
on the line.

the sort that rattles your breath
against the bars of its cage.

the sort that numbs your hands
and toes
all extremities.

the sort that digs a graveyard
in the ruins of a mind.

i'm

high on something like drowning.

high on something like death.

i shot a bullet to the stars once
but
the lead was forged by the people before me
the gun was slick with someone else's sweat
and the stars were never mine.

i shot a bullet to the stars once
but
my hands were trembling
my heart was screeching,
terror the default,
and my mind didn't know what it wanted.

i shot a bullet to the stars once
but
hope is blind and
love is stupid and
lights are nothing to the darkness
zebras are black with white stripes.

i shot a bullet to the stars once
but
i felt nothing when it landed
not a ripple
not a sound
i followed it anyway.

i shot a bullet to the stars once
but
void is all it met,
black and
black and
black.

i shot a bullet to the stars once
but
it didn't matter
no one's ever aimed it true,
and they all confuse
wanting to live with
wanting to die.

i shot a bullet to the stars once

i missed.

some days the pen shakes
some days the sky shivers
and i can't see the moon bathe the backs of my hands
but i'm still okay.

some days my sight blurs
some days my breaths burn
and the eldest trees fall in the eye of the storm
but i'm still okay.

some days your lips still
some days your tongue slips
and maybes screech like harpies at the gate
but i'm still okay.

some days our minds fall
some days our space fills
and blackness towers and stabs in our skulls
but we're still okay.

sort of.

hands and legs and grapefruit iced tea.
sundays and mondays and shy fantasies.
clouds and winds and whims of the sea.
shutters and sun shards and stunted beech trees.
laughs and teeth and birds on the quay.
music and silence and soda on knees.
words and wool and soft middle c.
bare feet and icing and admission fees.
grass and flies and something set free.
cardboard and colours and things all in threes.
skin and lights and whole worlds to flee.
yellows and noon stars and
longing
to
be.

isolated movement and
the blank static of silence.
i lie in wait
if waiting lacked purpose
if lying meant secrets.
stark white on tired eyes.
chiming down the witching hour.
i've done it all before,
blood runs thick with hoarded words.
i wonder if you have them too.
i know
i hope
you don't.
(liar)
the world is muffled here,
and mechanic whirring.
letter by letter by
misstep by misstep.
all i can think is
oh

if you could see me now.

oh, if you knew
my love of you
the way i see the colour blue
my dandelion heart,
what would you do?

oh, if you saw
my gnashing jaws,
my visions of a million doors,
my labyrinthine head,
would you want more?

oh, if you took
the way i shook,
my thousands of unwritten books,
my young and shaky hands,
would you still look?

oh, if you heard
of all i've learned,
of things i've locked away and burned,
my intermittent joys,
what would your words?

oh, if i told
the world so old
and finally stood strong and bold,
my secrets made of steel,
would you stay cold,
oh
my dandelion soul?

silence in the stirring;
i lie awake for no reason at all,
missing intangible things:
home
happiness
healing
and you.
most of all,
you.

and it's easiest in darkness -
the deep absence of day,
the still wake of the night -
because then i can imagine it,
then i can forget
that i'm not allowed
to love you
at all.

leaden legs and
brittle arms
empty heads and
too-full hearts.
don't forget to steal your smiles.
****** hands and
wild eyes
blackened skin and
dirtied skies.
how else could you come by them?

(i'd gladly give you mine)

thumping bass of blood and bone
music
words and
me alone.
puncture wounds in skies and skin
goneness
moons and
quiet din.
bitter taste on touch and tongue
questions
dark and
shallow lungs.
sinking deep in pills and past
shiver
stop and
sleep at last.