it is to look into a glass box at people
When the glass box does not exist
It is hollow like the shell of
A crab who has long left,
Like the love of a
Love that has been since long loved
It is to wonder what bridges the vast canyon
From you alone to them laughing;
It is to ask and to become the buzzing question of
what is so wrong that we cannot do this?
(you)

It is to eye into a glass and
realise you do not know what should be there
It is like a wonder that has no
where to be and nowhere to go
like the awe of a new morning
that quickly vanishes with harsh night
It is to ask what must be causing headache
it is to ask what must be causing heartache
It is to question why to try in a land where
the only person you know is
(you)

the thought of other dimensions makes me
covered in blue for a second
paints me in slow motion
i can run; but they will run faster
they will know what i never did
we will both clash in the ways we are wiser
the one who stayed and the one who left

…at four in the morning,
the room was sharp and silent
through the stillness of the dark
and yet, I sang those old songs
swaying in the cold wind
with bottle upon my breath
as I dreamt of green birds
and the lonely white lotus
that kept fluttering
into my scratched head
while coming apart at the seams
with tears of sadness
I sat and pondered
where they all went:
those little caramel ladies of brown doom
with novocaine souls and enamel bodies;
you gave me the liveliest moments
even when you brought me
to the brink of death,
you have liberated me during
my most shackled state of mind,
you spilled the truth when you
told me, “I could never be reached.”
and therefore I must come to terms
with the absence of your warmth
as the green birds have flown
into concrete skies
and the white lotus has shriveled
into a curling black mass
I sway with the wind,
rising the bottle
and belting out
those old songs
in a room so
sharp and silent
at four in the morning.