I knocked on the door
of the universe. "Am I
real?" No one answered.
I went to the edge
of the world. "Do I exist?"
I got no answer.
I stood on a cloud
and asked the sky, "What is life?"
I received nothing.
I knocked on the ground,
one last try, "Do I matter?"
I'll take that as a "no."
I asked myself, "Is
life worth it?" "Of course," I said.
"Why should it not be?"

I’ve never believed that love is finite.
I’ve always thought that love
is a renewable resource.
Recyclable.
That as long as you are willing
to give out love,
you will receive enough love in return,
to refill yourself with.
But the problem with that was obvious,
some people simply do not give.

So I changed my theory.
Love is infinite.
It grows like trees inside us,
blooms and expands
like every breath is the first.
It plants seeds in our veins
and grow gardens in our chests,
and no matter how many times
that garden is mowed over,
cut down,
ruined,
there will always be one seed.

And it will regrow.

We were lovers once,
when I was much younger and you only a bit.
You cradled me like a mother,
and made me laugh like a father,
and more than once you rocked me to sleep.
But then came a time where I started to distrust you,
didn’t want to be part of your life for fear of what others would say.
I kept my distance,
no matter how hard you tried to convince me to return.
I’m sorry I let my self hate wedge itself between our bond.
I’m sorry I was ashamed of the way you made me feel,
when all you did was give me love.
I’m sorry I’ve been away so long,
I’ve been trying to repair the injuries more complex entities have caused me,
but I’m ready to come home now.

The ancient Greeks theorized that as the soul descended from heaven to be born, it gathered elements from the seven visible planets: silver from the moon, mercury from Mercury, copper from Venus, gold from the sun, iron from Mars, tin from Jupiter, and lead from Saturn. These were the components of the soul. After death their souls would return up, dropping off each element at their respective planet, appearing naked before god to be judged.*

If I could rip apart our souls,
what do you think I’d find?
If we are composed of only simplicities,
then I must be copper,
because I’ve always felt the need
to be close to every part of the earth.
Or maybe silver,
since the moon always seemed
more trustworthy to me.
Or maybe because that was Artemis’ color,
and I always longed to be pure.
It was an alchemist’s noble metal,
strong yet malleable,
able to be hammered
or pressed
permanently out of shape.
you seem to have spent far too long
on Mercury, learning from the god himself.
Filling yourself with liquid poison,
learning to dissolve precious metals.
The Roman god Mercury,
often helped guide lost souls to the underworld,
so maybe that’s why
the longer we lasted,
the more it felt like hell.
You always were toxic to me.
The ancients used lead for everything,
they lined their bathtubs and pipes,
and was considered the best ingredient
in fine wine.
They bathed and drank and drank and drank
until they couldn’t tell the difference
between the two,
washing their sins
whether from skin or from soul,
they were dying just the same.
I guess some things never change.
Tin is still a simple,
under-appreciated metal,
used for simple, unappreciated objects,
but if we are all only elements,
you are a tin man.
The finest element has always been gold,
believed to be of the sun.
People loved it because it seemed
to ooze warmth.
Most religions worshipped the sun,
even though it could **** them
before they had a chance.
The sun,
though warm and life-giving,
has too much power,
and you always did, too.

Press Play
The world is spinning and if I didn't know any better I’d swear it was ending
Sometimes I still feel like it is
Pause
and the sickness is still there,
throbbing behind my eyelids like waves hitting rocks
time is frozen and I’m forced to feel everything
Play
The world is spinning again but this time in slow motion and I can see every image that ever hurt pass by me,
can feel them being burned into my brain
Rewind
to when it was easier and a couple holding hands or kissing didn't send me into a spiraling vortex of crippling sadness
Fast Forward
to two days from now and it will still hurt but not nearly as much because I’ll probably be high and kissing someone else wishing it was you
Play
but right now I still feel like I’m dying because she’s wrapped around your waist and you around her finger while I’m on the floor in the bathroom dry heaving until I ***** empty pill bottles and my insides rip through my old scars and look me in the eye and spit the truth and I’m screaming louder than I can hear trying to block it out because I can’t imagine a life where I am not her and the room is spinning spinning spinning and the walls are bending like an old bridge in a storm and the floor is caving in and
Stop