it was so simple.
you put your
hand on your heart,
you said "you're
first in here."

i'm not sure if we
are victims of
circumstance
or blessed by
coincidence

i'm not sure if it
is selfish to say,
or if i deserve to
say this after
all this time, but

i love you,
i love you

i feel like i'm full of
weeds. i don't know
if that makes sense.
you wrote a letter at
the front of the journal
you bought for me and
i read the words over
and over when i'm lonely,
as if it's going to bring
you back. but it's not
going to bring you back,
is it? why can't i fall
out of love with you?

I dream mostly
in flowers and
in the shape of
your words
pressed quietly
into the skin
behind my right
ear.

i read that astronauts
can tell from outer
space which cities are
newly built because
electricians are making
streetlights out of
sodium vapor now as
opposed to mercury,
so now road outlines
glow orange

and newer cities tend
to be more geometrically
planned, all straight
edges and such, while
older cities are made up
of frantic curves and
corners

and i wonder if i look
to you like i have been
worn and used, am i
frenzied and dull, or
am i new?  maybe my
jagged lines have
been sanded and smoothed

maybe
i still
glow

The sterling stream that lines my sorrows
is never within stone's throw.
How many boulders away are you, my darling?
I yearn for you to grind my heart once more.
I need you to clip it's thoughtless wings,
for they're drooping and defeated by their lasting migration.

My heart is elephantine and my wings are hopeless
and they're abusing all of me for what is believably my eternity.  
My heart is dehydrated and cotton-mouthed,
It's tongue can not satisfy, for it's fangs are before it,
serrated by the bloodshed on our floor.
I could water my floral heart,
if someone put the watering-can in my hand,
but it doesn't know how to tread tears anymore anyway.

I am not satisfied.
Nor, can I satisfy
anymore.

I'm simply coasting through shapes and figures
to pass this paused time.
I have become a clown
that does not understand mortification any longer.
It's feelings have become hidden under a white face and red lips.

My tower of prospect has been thrown to the ground,
landing where my body was planted, stuck asleep.

They all say I deserve better.
I've been searching for better,
but it broke my wings and it broke my heart
and planted me at my own crime scene
******* me.