I did not choose this body.
Nor did it choose me.
We just met
at the entrance of time.

I thought
it would be easier.
Fewer fingers,
more air.
Maybe even wings.

But I got skin
that burns easily.
And eyes
that remember
even when they don’t want to.

I got a voice
that sounds like someone
I no longer remember.
And hands
that love to embrace
even when there’s no one.

Sometimes I think
this body is not mine.
Too much feeling.
Too many foreign traces.

But then
I feel pain.
And I know:
if it hurts
it’s mine.

The man on the moon, you see
He has a few friends

He's perfect and broken
And is kind to no ends

I believe he is lonely
Floating gently in the sky

Even if you whisper him your secrets
He'll never tell you why

His pain is unmatched
Yet he's beautiful all the same

Even when he looks at perfect stars
He casts them no blame

And I find it comforting
Looking to him at night

For he taught me even in dark
There is a way to find some light

I packed up my life
Uprooting all I had known
Loss like a knife
On a plane all alone

Only luggage I had
Harsh words in my mind
Not lovely, but sad
Unlike most words I find

They say time will heal
I’m not sure it will
I left, but I feel
I carry it still

a name like water
flows from my lips
into the darkness
through the abyss.

i watch you quietly
you do not see
you never will
and it is killing me.

(a diagnostic glitch in verse)

when
systems
(whisper)
yOu’re
a
thReat/

maybe
you’ve
simply
be
gun
to
tell
the

T
R
U
T
H

& they’ll scream:
error.

(because
truth
sounds like
a disobedient
bit
in their
hoLy
loGic)

they’ll
try
to
fix
you

not seeing
you’re
just
a
mir
     ror
       cracked,
         but
  ­         clear__
enough
to reflect
what
they
never
coded
for.

you
are
not
a
v i r u s.

you
are
the
  P
    A
      T
        C
          H

(re
 boo­t.
  re
   write.
    re
      sist.)