The moon (in my head),
a guy named Fish (in my eye),
**** star (in my *******),
in my shoulders (Issac Newton),
in the soles of my feet (Siddhartha Gautama),
in my face (a girl named Arcade),
the devil (in my foot),
a forest (in my *******),
dolphins (on my lips),
in my jaw (David Lynch).

In my mouth (the cosmos),
Arkenya (everywhere).

Jimi Hendrix (hanging on my ears),
my ex-boyfriend Christopher (in my ******),
Jesus Christ (in my heart),
in my skin (culture),
God (everywhere).

I'm in the tallest area,
no higher than a fathomless well
to trap oneself in,
in wide, deep questions.

My ribcage opened
and out came the moon
harvested in the daylight,
splashing yellow-orange flickers
across the dark gulf of my soul--
like autumn stars against the darkness.

Perhaps I care too much
about the facts:
the "truth",
I've lost faith in that.

Standing in the void,
time after time,
I thought you would know it.

Standing at the edge of the void,
I can't be scared
anymore.

I stand,
feel the wind on my skin--
vacuum air conditioner,
filling me out.
I want out,
so I'm filling me out.

Standing at the edge of the light,
I thought you could feel
my warmth sometimes.

Cold, the night is so cold,
"Won't you come home?"
but it is not I
who lives there.

Cold summer night,
you ruined my summer
with your wanton eyes.

I thought the race was too deep,
the scars, they could eat
my entire life away.

I'm made of prayers
and a pay phone,
to get you to answer
I must pay for it.

You looking scared,
but it's fine
I'm already done.
You can go home
and rest now,
(I'm already home).

Standing at the edge of the void...

I'm made of paper,
the dollar with the president's
face on it.

I keep hearing you sing,
but it sounds like moaning
to me.

When will it stop?
I can't let it go.
When will I drop the cards
and flow.

Play your cards right.

I must go...
into the void
(as above, so below)

8PM... come to me again...
long night, day has died...

You and I, we're so good tonight,
I feel like we're out of town
and we're at a rest stop.
We're so well off.

I am a diamond
out the window
being stared at
by a wistful thinker.

Shiny people
look so good
in transparent cases.

What did you want
to tell me?
You forgot but
I knew which was why
I was smiling at you.

Am I pretty
or is the
light on right?

Shhh...

Life and the giver of life,
west, positive balance,
too hot to handle too cold to hold.

My research *****,
be here now,
not enough memory.

Needs a psychiatrist--
the womb--
the name of the grey aliens.