“Hey, I’m third-wheeling! Haven’t done this in a while!”
Wait… No… I’m going to stop you right there
Just because your friend has been texting me daily
Does not mean that we are any sort of duo for you half-heartedly attach to
Because I am a ******* unicycle
Admittedly, I don’t always stand too well on my own
But all it takes is some momentum and a little bit of blind faith
And I’ll be the one-wheeled contraption staggering unsteadily over any terrain imaginable
The only sort of second tire you’ll be hearing about for now
Is the declaration that I’m “two tired” to deal with this *******
Peddle your flirtations all you like, I’m not buying it
I’m the single spokesperson for a single set of spokes
You cannot tread on me just because my tread is wearing thin
Notice the lack of handlebars, you see, I am in control
Although my balance is unpredictable at best
I don’t have any brakes, because I’m getting sick of being broken
Do not mistake clowning around for simplicity, you see, I am easier said than done
The unicycle is not an easily mastered skill
And sure, perhaps I should be grateful that someone even bothers to try
But if you’re trying to shift gears, I should warn you
That doesn’t appear to be an option
I should warn you
All rides are solo
I should warn you
Unicycles might go in circles
But at least it's what they're meant to do

At times
I long for a world that is black and white

Crimson sunsets would no longer make me believe that love is anything but painful

and the oceans would stop summoning for me to come home with their sapphire tides

I could be content with where I reside, for all colors would be the same
and your eyes would stop calling my name

and perhaps, it's because a world filled with grey

is merely and unapologetically mundane.

Two fishing poles, a feather,
a leather jacket with holes
on both elbows, forty-four
dollars and change in
an envelope, some dope,
a pair of worn out cowboy boots,
a clay flute shaped like a bird
that can't whistle a tune worth a lick,
an unused bus ticket, a picture
of two kids laughing pretending
to fly; an eyelash in my eye.

sometimes the seams split and vines spill out, tender tendrils searching so soft and green and f r a g i l e

blooms open petal to petal sepals stretching stems extended something so precious and kind, so close

the color of moonlight sliding across cool sheets, sighing on bare skin, softly holding your hand in the lonely dark; you smile in your sleep and your dreams lull to quiet,
      soft,
   intangible moonlight as infallible protector; sometimes she puts flowers in your hair

veins overrun with petals, roots entwined with stems, stems sprouting and growing and moving with each breath, everything full and soft and fragile;
vulnerability, willingly: safe fragility--
      letting the flowers grow freely
    and trusting the wind
not to blow them away

At first I did love you,
but then the rain caught up.
Always thinking of you,
laying dormant on your crest.
To drink until you blurred,
until as velvet as the mist.

When I grow up, I'll be cool.
Smoke until my lungs float.
Drink until my body's a pool.
Think of people with three felonies,
singing the same penitiary melodies.
Think of girls that said no,
love that diminishes
while a fetus grows.

I'll think of my dad growing up
under a different circumstance.
Think if my mom could hear,
she'd probably like to dance.
Think of my grandpa and my brother,
one isolating, one with too much love--
I wish it'd smother
me, under a Christmas tree,
whispering, 'I wish I could give more,
but all I have is me.'

At first I did love you,
but the frame spills metal guts.
Always thinking of you,
the way your eyes, wide shut.
To think of a turn,
I watched it blur,
the glass shattered.
The paramedics mimicked me,
lifting me up,
'What's the matter?'

When I grow up, I'll be dope.
Find a nice blond and maybe elope.
Shake into her what was stirred into me,
and tell her not to mistake it for chemistry.
And bleed no more, so she doesn't believe,
that there used to be a weaker me,
but it's hard to control a certain circumstance--
like, what if my mom wished to dance?

It all started out fine
The most unique bunch of people I've ever had the privilege of meeting are reunited
First snow fall
We smoke in large numbers, we openly express our love for one another
I am in love
Expired cards scrap the surfaces of mirrors, everyone's snorting something
Facing fears
One on one we discuss our issues, our vices
A few get angry, no blood shed
A couple begin to fight, many tears shed
I find myself spinning, I find myself between both my ex's and my ex best friend
We are at peace together even though we struggle to find peace when alone
Morning comes and no one has slept
The rooms cold
Eyes like sunken ships and black holes
We see things we don't want to see
We find out things we didn't want to know
It all started with smoking in numbers, now it's a shaky home

The last time we kissed
I broke out in hives
from the honey on her breath
and the sting of her lies.
I swear, I'd die a thousand deaths
if she were the queen of my hive.

More precisely: A letter to Love
There is no place for you here
He forbade you from the beginning
And we agreed that you would not come around
I know I was alone when you showed up at my door but
You must have known you were still unwelcome
When he holds me close at 3am
This is not an invitation
When he pets my hair as I cry
This is not a retraction of our demands
His hand on my hips and under my clothes
Are not extended to you
You must believe me when I say I miss you terribly
But this is not the first time you have betrayed me
I think we need some distance
I truly do look forward to the opportunity where we may meet again
But there is no place for you here
Please go