Words
           Are
Both
          Flowers
And
          Thorns
                              The gentleman
Doesn't
          Hurt
His
         Fingers
With
        The
Latter

I was tired of making up excuses for you
Each time, I told myself
He is just so busy
He didnt mean it
He just forgot to get to it
But all I asked was for ten minutes of your time
And some how you still managed
To get lost in the world of things more important than me
So I have accepted my status near the bottom of your list
I wont put any more energy into this
Because everytime I reach out
It seems my name gets pushed further down on the list

I tried to beat it
The sun.
Tried to beat it to the horizon
I looked up and saw it one day
I said "OH! what beauty! I shall catch it if it falls!"
And it began to fall.
So I tried to beat it to the horizon, where I knew it would land.
But it sank deep, deep into the ground.
And i mourned for it
I cried and crooned of it's beauty.
I begged of it to come back.
And in this depression I fell asleep.
When I woke, high high above me was the sun.
And I said "OH! what beauty! I shall catch it if it falls!"

Let me tell you again about the dream I have where I wake up in a bed across the Atlantic.

The dream where you are settled on my skin, still asleep.

You are all lips and freckles.

In this dream you speak before you wake and you tell me, “hold my hand, hold my hand,” and your voice to me is like god ****** gospel.

When they open, your eyes are not your eyes—they are more like the only navigable sea I’ve ever known, and you’re looking not at me, but past me.

The dream where the air around us thickens and I reach out a fingertip, but when I touch you I go right through you.

Our skins ripple and move in waves as we fade into shades of cerulean that soak into the sheets, disappearing like bathwater.

There are never any suicides in the quarter among people one knows
No successful suicides.
A Chinese boy kills himself and is dead.
(they continue to place his mail in the letter rack at the Dome)
A Norwegian boy kills himself and is dead.
(no one knows where the other Norwegian boy has gone)
They find a model dead
alone in bed and very dead.
(it made almost unbearable trouble for the concierge)
Sweet oil, the white of eggs, mustard and water, soap suds
and stomach pumps rescue the people one knows.
Every afternoon the people one knows can be found at the café.

Being strong doesn't mean
you can handle
what's thrown at you,
It just means you're prepared
to ignore whatever it is
that hurts you