hit me with your words
like you wish you could with your hands
but you know this'll hurt more.

it's like you said
"friendship has to be mutual care"
"and who would care about you?"

these words do not surprise me.
but i am left wishing
they would.

i cant throw my body into the arms of another.
my tendons
the ligaments, the muscles
my heatstrings lie in tatters between your teeth.
                                     behind lips that never
                                     had a nice word for me.
and if i wasnt so sad
to find the pity in this prose
id of thought im happy
                                                *though i guess im not, i suppose.

to hold you between the gaps
of my fingers
escaping the love songs
from my throat
that I didn't know were there
till you told me it was time to go.
then the drum starts
its beat behind our eyes
our lacking tongues
that fail to formulate
this feeling
which is slowly escaping
my grasping hands.

i am the worlds worst guest.
i will help you cook a meal
set the table
help place the plates
will eat everything in front of me
wash up and dry alongside you
even if you tell me not too
i am the worlds worst guest.

i will stay in your room
help clean the clutter
make it neat and tidy
as long as you are beside me
i can sit on the bed chair or floor
and i will never tire or bore
i am the worlds worst guest.

i have no sense of time
i can stay hours or days
until you've had enough
there's always another time
there's always other stuff
i need to be told to go
otherwise i will never know

That i am the worlds worst guest.

you can cast shadows
on bedroom walls
it's all You know.
            i know.

it doesn't excuse
my chasing
as you are all i know.
                        **You know.

sitting on the roof tiles
stretching out tonight
i see our city blind itself in moonlight
i hear its call for someone to love it
like a newborn.
we should break its heart again.
                                                           it builds character
                                                           it should learn to mourn.

i broke the bed
that wasn't made
for me
and you tell me how funny
a story it will be
for others to laugh at
to laugh at the loving me.

the Moon is made more alive
by the waves
in ponds.

not unlike You.

whose beauty is held captive
momentarily
in every reflective surface,
whose fingerprints leave ichor
love letters
and a laugh like a forest fire.

i am bewitched. Lunacy.
yet it's a sad fate.

as it is impossible to attain
the Moon.

*Not unlike You.

i have tied
my heart to the tree
to play on its strings.
the notes
hollow out the space
like cavities.
i play on my heart
tied to the tree
i am always a part
of whatever you left me.

But why do we find our hearts
in the palms of others?
in the cracks of the paint.
in the makeup.
in the books.

it's always somewhere unexpected.
like venom you take with honey.

filled with sweetness,


with satisfaction. *Are you satisfied?

forgive me for the sins
i did not make.
let me repent
for some other souls sake.

when they talk of
the vacuum two lovers locked gazes make.
the removal of all else
except of the other and ones self.

where does everyone else go?
are they the victims of entropy,
the selfless souls who disappear
at the twitch of an eyelid?

for they are blessed and cursed
with a most wonderful scene;
Love,
       yet not meant for them.

all routes lead to the homes made in passing.

i am unable to recreate your smile.

all peaks have views wishing to be seen.

you do not want to be looked for.

                 *I will live a half-life

Now where is there to go?*
                                         \\
                                           *No where is there to go.

never have i begged
my legs to give way,
but i have begged
you to catch me.                              
            
                                        i may ask for your love
                                     **but i will never betray my own.

i will lay kisses
upon your chest
to understand what it means
to speak from the heart.

(please never stop beating.)

It's about being broken enough
to where scars are reminders
of the days you could remember
exactly what hurt
**you.

there is nothing more to do but let the rain pour. it is pointless to try but we all try pointless things in the hope that they won't be for us. we throw umbrellas to the sky in anger and stamp in puddles out of frustration.

"IT JUST NEVER LISTENS!"
"IT JUST NEVER TRIES!"

from throats that are filled with apathy but momentarily outraged.
we think it will be different.
we try to make be different.
we start begging it to be different.
yet

It still rains.
(and we are at a loss.)

Grief is not a simile.
It's a metaphor.
It's not crashing like the rocks of the mountains
But falling above, destroying the peak with your body and finding the last parts of your soul in the new creases. The magma beneath becomes your breath and you fear to speak for eruption paints scars you'll leave behind. The new land you'd never thought you'd see becomes the land you used to be. You don't need light but feel the rocks made of you under your feet. You are not like stone. You are stone You are granite You are obsidian you are every unflinching untouchable unfeeling thing.
Grief is not a simile
**Grief is a metaphor.

something untranslatable;  
but somehow
understandable.

my words are capped. Over
with.
half-started sentences.
they just get cut
into somebody else.
they just get -
- -body else.

and i want to ------

Candles;
alone in the rain
Snuffed out
simmering in shame.

"I mean we were destined to fail, I've read every card in the deck, scry'd every crystal in the store. Looked for meanings in the Stars, the tea, the cracks in the pavement. Fishbones, wishbones, my palms and the swirls at the back of my eyelids. Can't you see?"

"I see. The magpies came in two's."

"Exactly, there's happiness somewhere."

"Just not here."

**"Yes. Just not here."

I remember
even if I don't want too.
Seeing you climb over
obstacles of your own making
and jumping from post to post
with no other feeling
but a smile.

Its a still image

repeating again but different;
like waves that break
or waves that smother
or waves that never rise at all.
But it's better to break beautifully
than stagnate.

I didn't belong in someone else's heart

**That's what I believe.