speaks the sepia soldier, what say you-
the grass no longer greens
nor is greener blurred through waters-
temperatures rising tasting compromising flavors
savors sun-kissed fables
staples followed Mable
Mayflower, spring strings with color
streaming ribbons gleaming
glass against fingertips
and breath- like a tiger, or a rat
frantic like the dying man's last rap
prayers echoed like-
air.
falls from the precipice to another peak,
"we never speak"
precious, precious, pretentious
quote us phrases, lay we down like concrete,
in concrete
surrounded by concrete where we'll dance and it won't matter that
we aren't dancing

I can see your eyes
trying to hide behind glasses you surmise
no tendency to free nor fear to be

I waited as an outline
watching curtains fall to further shadow
making out a hunched figure -
shaded but clear as the note
you purposefully wrote illegibly-
Look at me!

You walked away bent and kept
your curtain nailed to your head-
and I gloriously alight instead.

they were calling you some sort of modern genius and it sunk lower than the irons that drug a stranger to the ocean's depths
you were walking without shoes to train yourself to the cold, hard reality that set in when you
woke
up.
thinking about feet never solved your real problems, though, and they consumed your genius brain like words soaking in your skull coming out of the womb, like an alien language being shrieked in sirens, jumping you out of shivers and bones and whatever you considered home
at
the time
there were people all around you, with strange faces and no faces and words again, but with people the words were blossoming; yours were maybe weeded out and you spent all your energy trying to nurse them to life, and **** out all they could give you, but you cancelled yourself out in the process of thinking you couldn't stop thinking they called you
obsessed
and time was passing, passing, blurred-
all you wanted was to blossom with someone.

have you lately
maybe
rainfall will be
paved in solar reflections
twisted perplexions
frozen expressions
pitter patter eyebrows on a golden platter
frame the faces faces
going nowhere nowhere places spun on
fingertips
frozen lips
wordless have you ever noticed hips
hips thighs cries
hides denies
replies the faces faces
made up places
relief the end of
races

Dreaming of oceans, waves crash into my brain.
White noise, streaming through my body,
out my pores down my chest over my flesh
Cleanse.

I'd dream and stop living, dream to stop giving.
Run to save my wings, run to forgo things.

The minute you poke me I might stop letting you in.
Sometimes singing is more enjoyable in the silence-
.

Craning your neck to expand visuals, turning
your eyes into glittering TV screens and computer monitors,
you stopped feeling the elbows pushing into your back.
Soon enough they stuck and your feet grew into the floor,
like tree roots but less organic...
For a while you could still see the mirror that
reflected the world you left behind you, spinning
as you turned to stone, concrete filled your ears-
impervious to wind and skies and whispers, and you can no longer
hear birdsong-

I suppose you might regret that you weren't smiling when it happened.
You're a statue and unrecognizable because everyone grew around you while you never changed (except the patterns of smoke spiraling around your head, your one reminder of movement once you found yourself alone)

I see you when I feel stuck at this screen, typing meaningless things,
when the people become ugly white noise and I can close my eyes
and see exactly what I expect when I open them.
I feel ugly like your crumbling statue so I fly-
Sometimes I'm afraid to stop sometimes things can't
                                                           ­                                change
fast enough

I'm kind of backwards that way, but
I'll never take the world for granted.

Stone is beautiful, but not the way you wear it.
One day I will sigh in satisfaction and
crumble into other elements
and a tree will grow from my ashes.
Life is endless, they will find my voice like a whisper
suspended in the air, audible when the wind sweeps me up
and someone will be outside exploring the world when I'll strike them
with a chill
REAL smiles are contagious:
Find me in the clouds, I Am An Element.
(****** hippy, put on some shoes!)
(you're covered in plastic)

If you think it's worth the climb, come find me in the treetops.

How come stuffed animals get old?
You wanted to pretend that your parents weren't "cool" and you'd grown up so much that you didn't have those moments in the middle of the night where silence surrounds you and you're struck by the fact that you're desperately, helplessly alone and afraid- or maybe you did but you wouldn't need something to squeeze for reassurance.
You never asked until someone told you, and then you wanted to be best friends with your mom and the quiet, intellectual boy who sat in the corner and never took notes or made eye contact- you called yourself an artist so that you could be the millionth first girl to paint their hair and cut it short and stop sleeping except in the middle of the day.
You started to fear sunshine, probably because you couldn't see yourself and didn't want anyone else to, either. You avoided mirrors and moments alone, and you forgot what made your fingers so delicate - it wasn't the loose grip on a cigarette - and you forgot what your voice sounded like because you never stopped talking; it became your peaceful silence to dress up as somebody with confidence and talk and laugh without hearing what you say and touch as many bodies as you can - when it's only skin, they're all the same...
People move too much to hold you up, and someone let you drop, more than once... You can keep getting as angry as you want, but it isn't their lack of love that's keeping you from realizing that you've been the one leaning on people and trying to use other people's feet... They're trying to love you, but it's hard because you never stopped long enough in front of a mirror to figure out who the ******* are.
They'll always be there, and you'll be the last person to realize that you need to leave them behind.