I have a desire to be free in ways that would destroy me, in ways that aren't accepted in this world. I have a need to be free in ways that don't even exist, from things that are such parts of my continued existence as a being that to get what I need would be to cease. I am a lover who has found nothing to take the love I have. I cannot stand to be near anyone, but I crave closeness in such a desperate, painful way that it controls me. I am a logical, orderly, sound, carefully crafted mind, trapped inside the chaos of a soul that I cannot be sure was ever made to withstand the kind of feelings it itself produces constantly. Without the handicap of my humanity, I would be free, disentangled from this web of useless little things I care about. The one that trusses up my legs and trips me and no matter how I try to find the pattern in it, reason has no power against this trap. Power has no power against this snare. I can solve anything, escape anything, survive anything, disassemble anything. But I can't solve myself. And I feel like a wasted opportunity, a consciousness that maybe COULD actually do something meaningful, tragically held back by the hitchhiker of a soul that has come along for the ride to slash the tires. I want to be free of impossible things. But I am an impossible thing, and every morning I wake up and the little part of me that knows things whispers, "You will never be free." What a way to start the day.

for weeks, I believed
there were field mice scurrying under my skin
and dust from their toenails gave
me a cutting cough
as if they had been walking
on hateful words written in chalk

but it was you,
my body treated you like *****.

after I lost you, I grew a second layer of flesh
that covered your face,
a white towel, the white flag of peace
although
I already saw you in pieces.

nobody could have given you
a better funeral
than my swiss army knife and I

its blade wrote your would-be name where
you never got to touch
so maybe
bacteria would crawl inside
and I could still believe in the mice.

you can feel the silence
the weight of the quietness in the room
the incurable ringing in your ears

you can feel the cold
seeping into all corners
of the room
of you
there is never a contenting lack of warmth
that can match the lukewarm feeling
of the blood wrongly pulsing through your veins
emitted from a self loathing heart
as the air settles it offers
the sensation of an uncountable amount needles
being evening sunken into your skin

the february night offers you no consolation
so you remain still
begging to hear
the whisper of the trees
as if they can find  some words
to leave you with an impression
that will make you to love yourself

there is a haunting truth
no one will
pick you up from the freezing floor
no one is creeping silently up the stairs
to tuck you into your bed
no one knows
that you suffer

you wonder
is their anyone in the world,
who maybe feels the same
mixed up emptiness
that you do?
who lusts to lay against you
to mend the heartbreak swelling in your chest
and
to soak the misery from your bones

you hope silently
in the bitterness of the night
that somebody does

I dreamt of all the friends I've been missing
The ones I couldn't stop
from getting swallowed
by the sand
from the hour glass
sitting at the edge of
my dresser
The ones that became
victims of my endless hours
of essays and double shifts
The ones who sent text messages
that got swept beneath emails
from professors and managers
The ones who dialed my number
while I was in the shower
too many times in a row
and gave up
before I could answer
The ones who knocked
on my door while I
was away

The ones who will always
smell like summer
when I think of them
And the ones who will
always have a locker combination
in my memory

I dreamt of their hands
on my shoulders
and their laughter
warming the cool air
around me

But I woke up

in my bed

All alone

in my own home

Feeling terribly

**Homesick