Are we dreaming again?
We’re pollen
Whirling in the sky, oscillating between low and high.
Pendulum swinging freely but always coming back to me.
We’re just dreaming.
What would I do without your fantasy?
As much as it hurts, this is sanctity.
Let’s confront this transfixion. Why come all this way to be written as fiction? We could transcend this tension, even though we’re so afraid.
I’d love you again anyway,
if you would just wait for me.

Everyone else has gone home
I watch the waves and wait for the taxi cab.
Desperately clinging to my thank yous and sorrys I burrow myself in them, like a scared, lost kitten.  
Always needing.
Forced to be the Chameleon,
how could I know anything else?
God can only judge me, if he can find me.
I keep making gods out of people.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
I hold off until I can’t.
Nail me by my feet and by my hands
something inside of me
craves to be crucified.
Guilt has been woven into my body,
by hands as old as exodus.
To the Chameleon, this is what it is to be held.
This feels like home.
This, right here, is my everlasting.
Thank you,
I’m sorry.

I lay here in the mud
“Eat!” I say
and let them lust over my blood.
“Eat!” I beg.
My body is a carcass strung up by their kind.
I will surrender my pain to this earth
knowing I have been drained for something pure.
I will be given to a thirst
so immaculate
as if this
is what it has all been for

Looking at you stung.
Being next to you again
for another springs end,
felt like never ending
beginnings of falling
to some sort of death.
Wasps bzzzz
              Zzzzzzzzzzz
                  Zzzzz
         ­             Zz
                       Zzzzzzzzz
     ing.
Against the walls of my stomach.

Swallowed whole by hope,
I don’t know
who you are. Ever.
I don’t know who I am
ever.

Season’s rotation spent tripping in circles around you
are a lifetime and more.
A mere glimmer
through the eye of this storm.

I have known since genesis
how your light refracts mine.
Spider’s silk caught in sunbeam.
Unraveling sun from sky.

I come back to find you different.
Adapted to despair. I become burdened and create distance,
Avoidant attachment floating in air.

H
    A
        N
            G
                S
and
                 C
               L
             I
         N
      G
   S

like a thick,
low fog
at fallen angel’s midnight.

Every morning light
always left us
and acquainted us
the same.

I want to be disturbed;
unsettled
from this life.
Consciousness to time warp
like a fly is to honey.
Suspending no disbeliefs,
this place is too small of a world
to flourish.
These four walls
are too tall
to climb over
and too thick to punch through.
But ****** knuckles
and buckling knees
count for nothing
in the end
if you can still count your discomforts on one hand.

Misplaced love.

It’s such a habit
to be sad about it.

But I rearrange the pieces
of my brokenness
until I am mosaic of grievances.
I want to be closer to happiness.


Today I taste the light
as I lick the sun.
I am delicate and strong.
Soft and loved.
I am enough.
I will be enough.