i can watch you sleep for hours
feel the silent love
the love i know you can only give without knowing
how to give
i blossom into something more understanding
more patient
i am creative and i can see between the lines
but i cant decide if this is real
or fantasy

i think somebody is nibbling on my brain
and throwing ******* in my front yard

i think that it's a he
and he is 70 years old
and he forgot his wife's name

my name is Edith
and i think my old man needs help

i can help you find your ghost

the one that opens up the doors to your porch
and lets your cat out
when you swore you locked up

the one that crawls into bed with you
and you can't decide if it's warm or cold

the one that turns up the stove burner
so that your eggs aren't sunny-side up
like you wanted
but so that they are fried

(and you actually like it)

my name is Edith
and his is Eden
isn't that
sweet

If I could talk to earth
I would buy her a drink, and woo her in a stream where just maybe
she’d open up to me the chambers of her house
and let me take a look around
I would chase her through the jungle-wood and spanish moss
And I’d even let her chase me back
Maybe most importantly of all I would tell her I’m sorry under one of her honest apple trees
Because I didn’t mean for her to get sick
I’d lure her with me,
skipping
with my tickled mind and pocket of questions
And we could go ride a wave,
somewhere good

books give me art
kisses give me art
art thou not daddling and dabbling and doobling
in and around with
all these weird juices in my brain?
squeezing out the extras
like the last of the soup?
i see little wood animals jumping in the puddles
and leaving colored feetsprints all over the walls

but all i can hear is you

i'll sweep after you
with specks of your scattered dirt
marking my insides

i didn't write since you were here
i wanted to eat a million maggots
and pull my hair out of my scalp
my cup is full and overflows with hate
not a flower in my hair
or a writing on my wall
gave my brain a rest
like an injured moth
i lay here on the floor
and i don't want saved
especially
not by you

feel not, want not, oh
we live a great fantasy
you and juicy tastes

my mind is the messiest plate of food
matching my chaotic home
i have it together i have it together i have it together

We could talk about how much i hate my fickle and confused brain
how it hows
how it speeds up when it should slow down
like A ******* cat
how it cries for itself
like a ******* saint
we all forgot about

my brain feeds on eggs and lust
it's so hungry but when it finally gets fed it doesn't ******* want it anymore
what the ****?

i lay still
and let the ants of yesterday and tomorrow crawl up my legs
and the pants of today's message
breathe freely down my neck
the best moment of my life
i was floating
and so grounded
at the same time

i sit in my car
Waiting at the same red light as yesterday and probably tomorrow
and my chest actually hurts
feels churned over like butter
(though usually when i speak of butter it's in good light)
i'm in the jungle in the woods in the ocean but no matter what i'm me
that's a hard thing to realize
over and over again in the same moment
"hold onto something"
when my chest hurts so bad my heart has no room to live

the light finally turns
no more anticipating
I can finally breathe again

i