The world is an ocean
Thick and raging waves
With shoals of people
Rainbows of colour
Beautiful to see and hear
Sad they don’t all get along
Their colours combined would amaze
Salted spray, cracked lips and sore throats
They talk through the ache anyway
Gallons of water never to drink
There are no tears in the sea to blink

740

You taught me Waiting with Myself—
Appointment strictly kept—
You taught me fortitude of Fate—
This—also—I have learnt—

An Altitude of Death, that could
No bitterer debar
Than Life—had done—before it—
Yet—there is a Science more—

The Heaven you know—to understand
That you be not ashamed
Of Me—in Christ’s bright Audience
Upon the further Hand—

On the edge.
Watering cheap printed flowers
on rough and itchy blankets.
He listens to the heart he no longer wants
dwindle and die,
like a car wreck right before your eyes.
Brings you down by your soul,
in all the ways you used to flow.
Brings you down by calling your grandmother through your cry,
through the years of forgotten sighs
and now you're begging to
be brought home.

Come here.
Heart flutter to this day,
remember cheeky smile,
sweaty hair and the way
he made your world sway.
By the front of your shirt,
he brings you down to his level.
Through the hardwood floor,
he brings you down past dignity left at the door.
On the ground you know,
he brings you down past the crust.
Doesn't stop there,
he takes you to the center of the earth.

Back and forth,
vacant eyes search for remaining worth.
Pavement of past and present,
places you'll never know.
Sadness fills the dreaded sky,
reminds you of a certain time.
Ask yourself why.
You'll dig.
You can dig for two, three,
maybe four.
You can dig until there is nothing more.
Every ghost has a reason,
yours often come like different seasons.
Your a ghost of regret,
a ghost of treading slow.
But you are a ghost,
a ghost that they will always know.

when did the
mirror break?

a different angle
for every mood
sharper lines
and harsher truths

jaggedly cut through the glass
same stripes up my sides
personal lightening storm
down my shoulders and thighs

when did the
mirror break?

when did fat stop
being a feeling
and more of just
a state of being?

some people
are just
not very smart.

i'm talking adults.

they just don't have the
it, the
thing
that all the smarties
seem to have.
but they do seem
to talk a good game.

a key component is missing.
things don't add up.

and it's a
strange thing to witness,
to come to terms with,
to accept.

but let me tell you
the strangest thing
the most maddening of things:

observing other people
who you otherwise know
as smart people
fall prey
to one of the dummies.
the liars.
the snakes in the grass.

observing you
in this state of
sickness
and dementia
and delusion
is unreal.

you don't seem to be aware
that you are sick at all.

and in watching the
contortions you will make
for this fraud,
i see that stance
you have taken
on me.