Your home will shatter

Emotionally not physically

The wood panels still fused

But your security dissipated

Dishes still in the kitchen sink

But your routine in shards



You will pack up

Backpack up on your back

And down on the ground

In your new compound

You will attempt to create anew

And you will

But it is unlike before

It will never be like before



So you will try a return

You will, desperately,

Grasping for breath,

Ride your bike to that old gate

That old entrance to that previous exit



But I regret to inform you,

It is no longer your home

He might invite you in but only to see a new couch

Some other woman is in the groove

But it’s not even the one you once made

The bathroom will look the same

Same  portrait

Same book on top of the toilet

But a new towel hangs

And it’s no longer the perfume of your shampoo filling the room



I am so sorry but

You will feel like you are in a bad dream

Everything is familiar

Everything is yours in a no longer tucked away memory

It is still real if you open it and prolong it

It is still yours in some existence

Where that moment froze and never stopped

But it is changed

At the same exact time

It is hurdling forward as fast as it is still

It is as foreign as it is memorized

Everything is off on the same track



I am sorry but you can never go home

Each Autumn we fall in and out of
Souls who
Lure us into a gust of changing leaves.

A familiar song
Strummed
Down our every vein.

I’ve been sitting in the crack in the couch

tapping my feet on the coffee table

pourover in hands

left

right

must write

what can pop up in the sphere on top of my neck to make me spit out words



too many screens

after all the paper in front of me used to be a dead tree



too many sighs

after all I left the pain and got what I wished for



too many souls

afterall we’re just one mirror

The swollen moon shadows the smoky night
Tensions rise if you shout for a fight
Bruises seem exclusive
Until rumors need refuting
Testimony through retention
But are we fully comprehending?

If we’re all gods creating,
then you’re your own heaven and you forbid yourself from ever getting in.

Asleep to the dream, why do we turn over in the mourning to pull each other closer, failing to fill in the blanks that sleeping life pencils in?

is that why you say writing a novel in one sitting is advantageous?
your **** would stick to the seat of your FREE sign-ed recliner and you’d never get up to buy a new pen

Let’s follow the dolphins to the middle of the ocean
and don’t let the Devil teach us how to swim

because the Truth is
we never wait to lie down and float.
but the light stands
whether our darkness sits
or dances with us at the show.

Keep writing about that boy”

he told me,

but the writer’s block in me

knocked me out

and i woke up hours later to a sunless sky and rumored moon.

one time i foolishly tried to list my lovers in loose words,

you were mine at the time,

and all i could manage to write for you was

how you were like lightening and thunder in a burgundy sky,

and i haven’t quite understood it until now

on the roof,

blood moon overhead.

it is the violent and bleeding heartbreaks

that crumple us and our humanity

into small scraps of dwindling significance,

and illuminate the truth of existing

in a dream where

our souls can finally dance in the pain,

and the skies can feel love too.

paper thin hypocrisies

smoking and shouting smoldering “**** the democracy”s

if growing up meant going up

without the down,

i’d weigh you up

and shut you down.

but gravity’s a *****

and karma just knows

so we pick a flower

every hour

downtown and up the road.