caramel apple eyes
with no smile,
just a smirk
maybe you'll spare me
from my two year and counting sentence
but it seems unlikely
that i'll be able to get over you,
because if I haven't already
I never will.
Tell me why I can only formulate magnificent proses when they
come from a spot of mourning that you left in the pits of my rotting stomach
it's an ethereal feel that links me back to the sea
your scent draws me in close,
how I desperately want to jump off a cliff to save myself from your grasp.
I spend countless nights huddled in a corner of my room
and I've come to the conclusion that love is only good
when you're in it.
I return to the ocean cliff every day,
looking out to try to pinpoint the bottom of the raging blue rapids beneath where I stand 133 feet up.
Maybe if I can dance closer to the edge,
you'll take notice and save me before I fall
but who am I kidding?
I was the one to take things too far,

I don't want to finish this poem.

I was going to tell you. I was going to let you read a page. I swear.

I just wanted to put a
face to the feeling,
wanted a solid "you"
to write to, something
other than the blurriness.

I didn't pull you out of
your grave. I said,
scoot over.

When you walk a mile in
someone else's shoes, you
find your feet growing to
fill them out. That's the thing
about empathy:

Your own shoes are a little
too tight now. You've got
blisters on your ankles.

I had a dream that you bit
me and then ****** the
venom out. I had a dream
that you gave me mouth-to-
mouth so heavenly I forgot
who drowned me.

You had dibs over both sides
of the coin, half-dreamer, half-
dream. You made a place for
yourself inside my head. There,
you said, *now I can live forever.

do not hold
hands that do not fear
losing yours.

I stood here
Amongst the grey underneath a vivid
Rain,
Mist gathered like a flock of
Wet embers on open flames,
Existences.
That a cloud broke
From its tears
And left the suns
Long stride holding dear
The moment;
That I stood beneath
A crimson shade;
A bittersweet grace
Among the days that end
In the afterglow of life.
For whatever reason
A gratefulness yearns.

They tell me to lay down
and to please look at the fish.
Notice how they glide
in-and-out of the cool-blue
water; how they don't have
a care in the world -- they're
fish: one out of millions;
mindless; alone in packed
tanks; alone, jammed in
metal cans full of corpses
and low-quality mustard.

Putting the mask over my
perfect nostrils, my straight
teeth, they say Don't be afraid;
listen to my humming; how it
will blend with the high-pitch
screech you hear, now; becoming
an equilibrium of torture and
fantastical strangeness, unbound
by Gods, by Persons, by Loves.

Inside this perfect dark,
you cannot think beyond
the giant broad strokes that
is the world sweeping by --
and it is marvelous, the
buoyant miseries floating
above your head; my head
of ambivalent visions;
the Earth's core, a furiously
violent brilliance, ablaze
beneath my feet, under
layers of confounded
deathly masquerade; a
mask much like mine:
an egotistical reflection
brought out by one's
feeling of gigantic import-
-ance, despite hanging
from the vastest of ceilings;
a wannabe church in the sway
of jungle mind; primitive instinct.


***

You know you can wake up
  at this point, or so they say.
What does it all mean, to which
I murmur, I don't know. It's
hard to say what I know; if
anything, all I have is doubts.
All I can muster are regrets;
I wish I could return to that
perfect dark, confused and
semi-philosophical; all-
pretentious: a feeling of
being bound by brokenness.

They tell me to chill out;
you use semi-colons like
they're heartbeats. Focus
on whether your chest
holds validity.