And what does it mean when the rush of the fall comes with the acceptance that you could - and probably will - crash, but you leap regardless?

And what does it mean when her silence is the second loudest sound after your heartbeat?

And what does it mean when you realize you've never dreamt of having one?

And what does it mean when you have the same dream again and again with different faces?

And what does it mean when her face is the form, and the form is the dream?

And what does it mean when you realize hers is just the latest to fill the form?

And what does it mean when you wish the hurt of the dream over the truth of the day?

I have stared long enough at my ceiling that I confuse it with the back of my eyelids

I have named each of the tree branch textured constellations found there

My point is, I do not know how to talk about the rabbit hole without tumbling down it

If there were any paint left to dry, the blanks fired from my eyes would make for the most curious graffiti

The word restless comes to mind, but it erroneously implies that being asleep is the same thing as feeling comfortable when alone

I have fallen deep into the back of my head

My eyes, a distant stained glass window, casting the rainbow bridge back to where I need to be

This is the way

the problem is
i care
too much
about
not caring

I got the cricket ticks and lip licks.
The toe taps, arms stretch, feelin' sick.

Shaking leaves from the spine, butterflies.
Figure skatin', occipital, barely making eyes.

Shortsighted. A quick flick assessment.
First contact: Human. Nervous. Got the scent.

Quick quips. Heartbeat backflips. Got a smile.
Keys out, locked in. Gonna be here a while.

Knots released, check the shoes, still tied.
Second contact: Side-eyed. Open sky wide.

Comfortable. Swappin' pictures, open air.
This here is base camp. Light the flare.

Light retreating. Sun is dipping.
Soda empty, but still sipping.

Steady handed, still footed, defiant
Listen for the cricket ticks,

silent.

I would follow you to the ends of the earth
Mostly because I have no choice

I would drape unapologetic in the dark of the dance floor as you held your first taste of testosterone

That clammy hand costume with buttons too big to blame your fumbles on anything else

I would soak your sunlight and take none for myself, growing as big, and tall, and brave as you do

Mother said milk makes for strong bones
Strong bones make for easy outlines, like, look at me
Take my picture and remember you left a mark

Joy died today.
That was the name of my grandma
- Is the name of my grandma
I'm not sure which tense to use

Her name, a homemade bread, sticks sweet to the tongue

Her personality, an open palmed hug to the child's name she cant remember anymore.

Her life, a monument to what it means to be kind and to be good

She does not own her name anymore

It has been given to the warm bread
It has been gifted to grandchildren
It has been remembered by those who remain

It has been remembered

Joy still lives, just, in other ways.