long, long fingers
I want to touch the screen and meet you where you can't feel me prodding,
can't feel me remembering
or read into my thoughts

I don't even know the implications of my thoughts,
if you are the shape in the clouds,
or you are the shape of my feelings,
or I'm stuck in the clouds and have no ground.
The feelings are there, but I'm thinking too hard
too hard to speak
but it was also that way then, in the night,
easier to touch your fingers than to look you in the eye
easier to talk about the clouds than about the feelings
Somehow I think the comfort of touch bypasses the fear of rejection, given its time


I wonder what you think of time and space

but maybe your ability to not think about everything is what makes you beautiful to me

By then I'll have drowned
out my heartbeats with footsteps

I'm trying to be honest
I can't be satisfied by the words
All I have are swirling thoughts,
a comforting memory,
and a path I'd like to travel that became blocked off too soon
because I pushed down a tree in pursuit of something different
something different
something more

The moon speaks to me on these nights,
I want music, movies, the stars
I really want people
but anything that will bring the tears
will work something special
something more

Cracking inside me, I can't tell you
how broken I feel
for lack of words and courage
and for who has ears these days
and I am small,
in an intersection of swirling paths called the universe,
a thick, luscious ribbon of everything beautiful covered in chicken wire and mulch
it smells like earth, tastes like something that can't be digested,
but I swallow it anyway
goes down rough,
but feels something right
something different
something more

lump in my stomach, I know the acid is there working some kind of miracle

three thousand miles and one hundred twenty seven hours ago (approximately), I felt happy

Spinning, spinning something new, I guess. But the pace is set, and you're either in or a failure.

Let's talk about the wind
No, the wind
I mean how it feels to feel your soul come and go like that
Look at me, aren't eyes amazing?
Wind on the water of your eyes,
and your hair is a flock of birds

I'm sure there is a pattern,
especially when I see you like this
dumbfounded
in my mind
I am a genius
and you are interested...

Goosebumps on that side of my body only,
and insides shiver with the rippling wind,
inverted shock wounds
chalk on my windblown ideas
stock humans
walking around all the time, cut and dry culture,
I want to learn to paint and I want you to be there.
I want you to be the Titanic
and admit that you are fragile
be ready to go when the iceberg meets you, there


Wind on the ocean
I want to sink,
because the ocean is more powerful than peaceful
and I am fragile

The sun drips into the horizon and blurs,
always does like that, the last rays foggy and golden,
always goes when you don't want it to go, you know?

when the air spirals shivers down your spine and you
wonder why you are so lonely,
when the world is so alive

Monster,
making me your monster,
I know your games

I may be trapped
but I will
I will
find my way out,
**** you
life is beautiful,
I am ID
and ED
and GOD
and everything else that has mixed meanings
******* dichotomies
and word jumbles
and brains splattered,
right here. Turn away, go back to your pattern,
go back to your story and be ******* comfortable.

Not today, I said to the monster,
standing up,
you manifest as a bug
a cockroach, I hate those things,
and I squish you.

tuck my face behind the camera
myself in the shadow of the corner
colors slashed on paper
fingers raw from the strings
my eyes heavy lidded,
I never knew that self-deception was such an art
or that my inner critic
was my greatest enemy

embrace change?
I always have

Now my throat sighs and misses joy
My limbs do not celebrate,
they yell to me
too quietly
my brain runs the show
It has run down the tracks
This is sly flirtation with death
stop talking

I want to listen to the water and the trees,
I am paralyzed here,
fear for the future

pathetic
screams the monster

pick myself apart at the seams
something birdlike and cryptic
but not beautiful