there are two
kinds of sad days

the first kind is
periwinkle
with specks of
yellow sun throughout
where a soft cotton
fog covers everything
you can see and hear
and your limbs move
without you telling them to

automatic through
life with your brain
lost in thought
yet rattling around like
ice in an empty cup
void of cognition you
just have to keep putting
one foot in front of the other

and the second kind
is baby blue
smooth and soft like
fresh paint that has
dried and sealed
shut all the doors and
covered the windowpanes
so no light leaks in

and your body is
no longer compelled
to keep on moving so
you shut your eyes
against the overpowering
color of sad
and sleep
right there
on the hard floor

today started a
periwinkle sunshine day
and turned into a
baby blue paint day

few and far between
nowadays do i let
the blues get me
but today i felt the
last of the strength
i had been gripping
onto with both hands
trembling slip away

a white feather floating
off into the distance
or pink champagne
spilt on hot pavement
soaking in as i watched
it and boiling tears
wash away my scrawled
chalk drawings
of happy stick figures
and flowers that bloom
all year round

it’s silly
of me
never made
sense

but here i am
here are the blues
here’s a headache
behind my eyes

and here
is my bed
a soft field of
nothingness
where maybe sleep
can scrape the paint
off of the windows and
crack open the doors

all i was ever looking
for was home
is that too
much to ask?

you’re the swimming pool i want
to sit at the bottom of forever
watching the tiled sunlight
letting the water
drown the world to a
muffled bubble
as peace descends
like it can’t above the surface

you’re the shooting star
i knew was nothing more than
an astronomical anomaly
assigned superstitious significance
and yet i let my foolish wishes loose
out the hatch of a blinking
midnight airplane and impossibly
every one came true

you’re the patch of sunlight
on a mahogany floor
and i wish that i could lay
in your warmth forever

you’re every birthday candle
i’ve ever blown out
every aspirational dream i never
deserved to see realized

you’re proof that
love is real and warm
alive and breathing
proof there is good
left in the world
and we all can find it
proof that angels still
roam to keep me safe

you’re the feeling in my
throat when i remember you’re
the best thing that ever
happened to me and when i say
i love you
i don’t mean i want to
kiss you in the rain
(although i do)

i mean i want to keep
you by my side forever
let our skin grow papery
and fade like crumpled
ten dollar bills worn with
fold marks around our
eyes from laughing together
and our thoughts twist and
vine their way around each other
so you can’t tell where one of us
ends and the other begins
until all the parts of you that
are kinder and gentler than i
shed like dandelion seeds and
float into the meadows
of my subconscious

the feeling in my throat
turns into a traffic jam when i
desperately hope for the
thousandth time that you know
that’s what i mean when i
say i love you

that i could struggle for
hours and write thousands
of words trying to explain
myself but you’re the one
feeling so huge and immense
i just can’t find a metaphor

i’ve often wondered if
i love you too much
but i never want
to love you any less

you are my sun
my moon
and my entire
solar system
the milky way
turns upside down
and pours out in a
wash of meteors
when i start counting the
constellations in your eyes

i hope i never stop
feeling the flutter
of a million microscopic
feathers in my stomach
beating in time to the
sound of your footsteps

but if the butterflies ever
fly away we’ll both be okay

because there’s no place
for even the tiniest
glimmer of fake
crystal anxiety
in the arms of
the only one who
has ever really
felt like home

and if home is where the
heart is than i’ve hung
curtains in your ribcage
covered us both in a
layer of fresh paint
placed my pillow
on your chest where
i sleep at night

i’ve spun castles
in the air and
now we’re building a house
from the ground up

you’re my present
and my future and
i want to keep you
as close as my
freckles and as
loved as my tattoos

i dread the day
the universe takes
you away from me
but until that day
i will live as if nothing
can separate us

you
and me
forever
and always

it’s two am
and i can’t sleep
so i’ll take a shower
try to let the hot
water wash away
the words that ring
constantly like
alarms in my ears

i want to drink
to forget
that i am a
selfish
disappointment
to forget that
my mother
doesn’t love me

and i might spend
my whole life looking
for what she didn’t
have to give me

being told i’m doing
a good job from my boss
learning how to keep a home
neat from my best friend
advice that has my best interests
at heart from women who care
and from him all i ask is love
that isn’t conditional

and i’ll teach myself
to finish a job once
it’s started and to
never rely on other people
to keep money
in my bank account

and i’ll never say i love
someone and then let
my words and actions
prove me wrong

my hair is wet now
and heavy on my back
i have hair like she did
when she was young
and it’s weighed down
dripping with expectations
of who someone
with such hair should be

i don’t belong here
in this house
this home that isn’t
mine and never was

home is where you
go at the end of the
day to feel safe
where others aren’t
out to trample on
your emotions

home is where you
sleep with ease
but here i barely
even sleep
not knowing if tomorrow
will bring a tornado
or if the sun will rise
peaceful on the meadows

the question keeps
me up and even though
i know the answer it’s the
hardest one to face

why doesn’t
she love me?

because she isn’t capable of
giving what she never had
and it isn’t a me problem
it’s a her problem

that’s the answer
i know but i can’t
make myself
understand it

so i’ll rinse my hair
dry off and climb
back in bed hoping
tomorrow will make sense

but when tomorrow comes
so does the reminder

i’m alone now
and i have to
take care of
myself now

that’s my only problem
not the fact she
doesn’t care
that’s a her problem
and my reactions are
a me problem
and despite what she
tells me i’ve never been
a problem only a
problem to her

Taking in this breath.
My chest would rise to its peak.
And at its crest I'd count the seconds...

Shhh, I hear my heartbeats -
sure but muffled as if enveloped
by a heavy blanket of the quiet
in the night.

A beautiful sound -
this clock in my body makes.
Whispers promises of continuity,
possibility and hope.

the problem with alcohol
is that it’s flammable

you could set the whole town ablaze
if you started at the liquor store

you can set my whole
train of thought off the rails
flipped and on fire
after a few drinks

and when i drink i fall
prey to a different type of
burn than the one
in my throat

and it’s mean
a nasty little
whisper of a flame
on a petty match

the kind of burn
that destroys what
made it as it swallows
whatever is in its path

the problem with alcohol
is that it’s flammable
and it won’t cause an explosion
unless ignited

and the problem is that
i am the ignition

That's not who I am
I'm built of burning wood
And hacked off pieces of granite deemed
Too coarse for cobble stones

That's not who I am
I'm nobody's child
I built myself through a muddled
Community of moth wings

We never tasted sugar, never felt the rosy clothes'
Crushing flesh, blushing chosen lyrics
******* swallows and cheating sucklers
Cold, sunken, green with no choice

That's who I am - my own monster
Stitched from what I liked, stuck with our greasy wick
I blended myself, found my backbone
In the granite sifted and spat away

You can't name me, I get that right
To bore myself in your thick skull
You gave me over to the frost the day I forgot what
Stupid people said I should love