Are you sure you love me,
Or are we just playing pretend?
I've got this feeling it's just a spectrum,
This part and that part.

A series of orientations
I can't comprehend.

With no reason it should be any specific way,
There are only reasons it has to be that specific way.

But something constantly escapes us
Self-defeating self-driven
But these words are too direct
I must find meaning in the abstract
And start another one

I can't believe my life is like this...
I look at the other examples around me
Such better poetry
But the one experiencing it
For some reason is this...?

How strange.

Oh, where I am
Just went through the thought
I am your peanut butter
I am your glass of water

Oh, where I am
I cannot think that thought
Within the immolation,
I do get ****** into

Without myself,
I went to be your peanut butter
I'll never be a glass of water
Oh no, no no no

You sprang out with me
But we are different lines
Imaginary numbers and irrational are fine
Irregular is better
Got my scalene way of life
And we will all go back
To where we sprang from
You, not I, are divine
You, you, you
You you you you you
You, you you
You you you were never mine

Oh, you send out little shoots
Oh, we're all just screaming at the sky
But you're a giant and they sound like cute little cries

Oh, and you're not wrong
But oh, just look at your big toe
It could turn me into mush and you'd just wipe it off and sigh

There's a big rod of silver
Reach across the sky
I've got a gold made from liver
Isn't that why?

Isn't that why we stay up too late?
Me being me made you so great.
'Cause I needed you
Not to feel alone
When I die, solid stone
To stand upon.

Before all I can do is watch you,
Let your love stream over my hands
Let me believe that I am doing the work
No, let me do it.

Before I slip into dissociation--
Before I lose this to gross depersonalization,
Let our child romp in the pastures we'll call Yesterday

And when all I can do is watch you...
When I realize that not even that will do a thing for us,
Let me go!

I won't pose and say I'm returning
Or pretend to be the last drop of water in a plastic bottle--

Just like I've always been.

There's an old lady in your neighborhood who sits.
She knits and knits and knits.
And knits herself into existence,
She knits her aching wrists.

Her circumstance of birth
Is not like yours and mine
And the alarm of this discrepancy
Is sealed in strands of time.

It's odd, she never had
A mother, or a dad
But she knits them as she knits herself
And knits her seven kids.

Oh, ain't it strange?
Oh ain't life absurd?
It all checks out and comes around
But we only shared a word.

There's a man in Andromeda's sea
He's not like you or me
Because being that far changes you
Into something you can't be

But our thoughts could make him dance
On a giant knot of chance
And maybe all that space is full
Of books and beams of trance.

A tangent needs a touch,
And what could matter more?
Some dreams fall to obscurity
Cause no one's keeping score.

Oh, ain't it so weird?
Oh, but normalized!
Abstraction crumbled instantly
When it was realized.

Our skin is like disaster
With radiant ***** of hope
Nested on the precipice
Leaning into death

And death leans into me--
The leaning is preferred to picking beaks or bullets
Because it's the pressure that makes daisies and lovers out of clay

Like a little kid pushing playdough through a plastic toy

And you can lie and cling to meaning
When the hemorrhaging starts
Say: the kid is pushing me through a heart-shaped hole
I hope at least he's having fun
But there is no child in there
And no one wants to feel like a *******'s pen

And I'm scared of what my pen might say,
If pens could talk

But then again, at least I can imagine it. **** on that for a minute, it's a funny thought.

But no, I was never awkward.
Because I only go in one direction
Crossing ether with ether til there's flowers,
Smacking my palm's meat against a tree trunk to confirm that yes, it is hard.

But I know I was low. Oh, I'm so sure I was low!
Bending under the weight of weightlessness to become way too scared of letting go.
This all must be someone's fault,

But we don't know.

So pick your spruce tips in the spring.
You're right, the flavor was bright and citrusy
A nice snack indeed, filled with vitamin C

And eat your food from cans, it's quite a certain thing.
Maybe you're eating from your own stomach,
There's no way to really tell.

Yes, you're giving birth inside yourself--
True, osteoblasts rove bones
And ribosomes fold proteins while you fold your clothes

And the passion with which you make love is noted.
And I am pregnant I am pregnant I am pregnant like the sky
I can't bear to tell you any more,
Please stop hassling me with all your questions.

Are you really made of stone, deep down in there?
With soft tissues between, yes I am, yes we are?
She seems to want to know.
Wants to say that she's glad to know
And she's scared like you
That we are kissing cousins
That our veins go in circles and circles... don't go nowhere

But what if they do?
Can we talk about something else,
Maybe put something on TV
Slide photons into our eyes and mash up matter in our mouths
And I'll watch you fall asleep and see your chest rise and fall
And we can paint a house
And we can be in love,
Oh yes we can.

You are so much lower than yourself
Impossible to solve,
Held together with tape.

What a waste of time,
With your broken wing
Forced to watch hallucinations of others winning big.

And you don't even try
Because you know the truth.