Jumping on the crunchies
And crushing where I step,
Absorbed in each breath.

Where fall leaves stale,
I plant these stomps
going nowhere,
In particular.

Then I saw you
Stepping on
crunchies too,
consumed,
Simple and true.
With all of you.

Stay playful, stranger, curious.
There's enough crunch
For the both of us.

If a girl falls in an empty house
with death rolling through her veins,
does she make a sound?
Does anyone hear the last breath,
has anyone seen her frown?
Who saw the pain that hid behind her eyes,
who saw the darkness within?
Is there anyone who knew
that her happiness flew
far away, far away,
so that the gray
took over?
A girl fell in an empty house,
with death rolling through her veins.
She didn't make a sound,
but the impact was profound
Her absence has hit hearts all around.

Oh god
Keep it together.
Can't breathe. Need to sit down.
Your friend is dead.
Can't breathe need to sit down can't breathe
Keep it together
He was hit by a train
Can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe
Keep it together
need to sit down can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe
*Keep it together

I'll count the scars
Scattered across my hands and arms
And hips and stomach
Instead of the stars that drift across
The sky.

I'll count the scars I have,
Most caused by me,
Some caused by others,
And I'll dream of a time
I was a clean slate,
A time I was better than I am now,
And I'll get better.
I promise I'm getting better.

And if your lips
Can grace my scars,
Then maybe I can have the nerve
To count stars
Instead of scars.

I felt it first –
the day we wore waterproof boots in Amsterdam in August,
an unexpected storm did little to disturb us
I began to notice it then
the secret in this town that everyone, except me, knew about

Something that was hushed and passed around
under the blanket of moon
hidden away in a fiercely dark room of the Red Light
beneath maroon velvet curtains and leather-topped stools
or nestled beneath a bridge on the black canal past midnight.

I saw water dotted with blurred droplets, dark blue
the reflection of milky streetlights.
I pull the curtains in the mezzanine and the show begins
on the street below. I look out.

A curve of the lips
a gentle folding of the arms
a hand brushing against another

A secret never told
A city more alive than awake.

Here we go again
All that fighting
the constant inconsistency of your words
the do's and dont's that resonate into the void

Here we again*
Another restless night and dreadful morning
the shaking does not stop this time
and neither does the relentless mourning
It pains me being like this
lacking both physical and mental stability
Being dead would be a bliss
In this world full of hostility