"Want/need/feel/blah"

But our bodies makes noises when we are not around
Are mistranslated
       misunderstood
       misused
       mistreated
Crack of the arctic knuckles crack

-The whip on the horse to make it go faster
-The egg on the bowl to keep your hands clean
-The dawn that splices through skinny windows crack

Blue
I have noticed our Shadows
How they snap on the sidewalk
Like high-heeled claps and click

Went my back when I stretched
And I remember when this first started
And I asked if I could lean on your shoulder sweet spot
And I did for a while
And resting next to your throat was noisy
And we don't do that anymore
And I don't do that anymore

And
There you go, that familiar sound
(that same old sigh, that ticklish taunt, that numb noise - croaky crack)
You would think "Anymore"
Is a blah word
Because that is what my feet said

Blue
You are not around anymore
Our bodies aren't on speaking terms.

No matter how much I am moving,
I feel as though I am standing completely still.
I do not know which I am imagining,
And which is the truth.
What I want is either deafening noise or deafening silence.
They both terrify me so I do not know which is worse,
But I already feel the infinite volume of one.

I've been seeing in black in white,
I've been living in stolen houses,
I've been drinking forgotten liquor.



Let me out.
Let me out.
Let me out.
Let me in.

"You know what the sun looks like?"

"No, What?"

"Like he slit his wrists in a bathtub and the blood is all over the water."

"That's gross, Kaye."

"And the moon is just watching. She's just watching him die. She must have driven him to it."


I was driving to work
And this quote invaded my mind
Along with an image of you sitting on the beach.

I haven't thought about you in a while.
Now I cannot decide
Which one of us is the sun,
And which one of us is the moon.