the swarm of flies is me
wheatgrass dry hair
regretting below the canopy
unkempt

listen, i don’t want to be your only,
your stop sign in the road
the swarm of flies is you
clouding my mind
making me confused

the rapid flight of tiny bodies
all dropping dead in front of me
unaware of their demise;
only aware of me

sweet breather,
the swarm of flies is you
panicked and anxious
erratic and angsty
i’ll never need a body to complete me
never need some hands to manhandle me into emotions i do not feel

maybe you’ll always need another skeletal system to inform you of how to exist
productively killing themselves
from within
the swarm of flies is you
a cold reaching hand outstretched to my flimsy bones
warning me to jump into the abyss with no real meaning behind it

the swarm of flies is me
my fluctuation of feelings
mixed signals and pushbacks

i’m sorry, other human,
so sorry i have retreated back into my own thoughts
pacing around a maze that’ll never be completed

the swarm of flies is me
for blaming you
for my own childish fears
for leaving you a corpse
mislead and exhausted

the swarm is me

i’m so terrified
of the dawn that creeps up behind this cabin in the woods
i’m so scared of the violent rush of seawater
pinning me to the sandy shore—slamming my body, so rough that my esophagus stops for a second
when there are people in front of me,
i push them away
so violently, so quickly
immediately losing sight of everything in front of me
and i’m so sorry.
what should i do?
watch as the things i wish for fly away into the dark atmosphere?
watch as the flame i ignited dim in front of my very eyes?
i’m decision-less
so perpetually confused
what should i do?
should i love you?

just a line
just some item to buy
to place your grubby fingers upon
when the reflexes get
too repulsive not to surrender to
then lay those surfaces upon my heart
greasy fingerprints
then disown me,
only an object of desire

let the rhythmic pause of neurons
define your sense of being
just
please
don’t infect me

pinstriped and perfectly perfected into paper towns paper heaven paper falsities paper lies paper lucid dreams paper love
placate every single soul who’s about to go overboard
play my game with ****** fingertips
take those sandpaper words and smear them on my pinafore dress
tied at the waist
too small, no, too big, too stretchy, too loose, too tight, too everything
i perform every time i step out the door
poised and prodded and paced
problematic
sickness in this perceived health
parts of me floating bloodless in the ether
pardon me, but are you scared of places that your parents haven’t gone?
particularly i don’t believe a single sentence that escapes those perfectly formed prison walls holding gums and teeth inside
on purpose, i have patience
for people with the same patterns of personhood as you
and almost painfully,
i watch this perfect place catch flames, burn into paper perception paper wishes paper puppets paper precision paper people with paper powers with paper pleasure and paper pets and paper feelings
i deny this premonition,
i have been promised love if i continue with this patience
please paint my skies golden brown in this paper town
and i will pace by the doorway
peeking through the window panes
politely waiting for the headlights to pull into the driveway

—
no pressure, any time will be fine

those deep fangs
pressing upon pale purple skin
that poison,
damp on your tongue,
hitting the roof of my mouth
violently and persistently

you patronizing pain inflicter
with that wicked soul
pursing red velvet lips
drooling at the sight
of a fresh-blooded miss

the girl with a smile carved upon her cheeks
those golden-stalactite eyes
dripping rain residue on this coarse body

that cold-blooded smirk
impermanent generosity,
one side grinning,
the other frowning

you vile human  
with hair oddly blond like blinding light
those fluids dripping from your lips
irregular breathing patterns

you’ve made this fever festering inside me
feel like happiness
you’ve made this uninhabitable cavern
into something so familiar one can’t quite place
you’ve made me bleed from these eyelids

and feed it straight to you
like i am some chess piece
in some childish game for you
but i cannot stand this
and no i will not keep humoring you
i will use this body
for something other than for you

gardening hands
sliced wings—
you make me happy
and i don’t mean to sound corny
but it’s true.
i am not in love
but time isn’t creeping behind stone walls
time isn’t slithering like a snake
in this garden
the smile cannot stop before it hits my lips
the river is smooth
and settles in my throat
naturally.
i am not in love
but happiness is clinging to my torn sleeves
all the factory floors where my cold body laid so still
are getting renovated,
new floor plan.
harsh sea waters have calmed
after waging a war of hatred.
i am not in love
but this town feels bigger than usual
this gust of wind upon my head
is slowing by the minute.
the hour does not creep,
it moves along,
no hissing nor shouting nor demanding.
i am not in love
but the night spins achingly through my ceiling
as i beg and beg and plead for the sudden heat of the morning sun
sooner, faster
restrain me
i am not in love
i am only
happy