the chemicals that make up my body
are separating
and finding new homes
new souls
I fold a piece of paper in the shape of a swan
and swat at the flies
as I rise
and become one
with everything, everyone
there are puddles of people everywhere
I sat my swan on one
and the wind carried it away
puddle to puddle
person to person
I do not know anymore
I make things
and then give them away
watching as they circulate
just to end up in a closet
some are lost and forgotten
the paint is faded
and dry rotted
I begin to hate a talent
that I was born with
that I inherited
expectations will break a man
and rejection will make a man go mad
I am sad
everyone gets sad sometimes
and this is just one of those times
I am not rejected
but overly loved
and that makes me sad
people die everyday
and I am worried about who I am?
as I lay in my bed
under my sheets with air conditioning
a pantry full of food and two cats
all the while children starve to death
and I have the nerve to be sad
maybe I am just disappointed with myself
and that is why
I am only concerned with everything else

there is a cloud over my head tonight
and I keeping biting down on my lip
the blood is a red only seen
when halving a watermelon
that is perfectly ripe
I will eat till my stomach bleeds
seeing how far I can choke up the seeds
cheering as they take flight
I can only sleep in the dark
and I break my own heart
to dim the light

there is a dead plant
on my front porch
that I keep watering
out of habit
out of curiosity
out of desperation
I want to watch something grow
in front of me
something to hold in my hands
something
anything that I have made on my own
when all hope is lost
I want to be the one to bring life
back into a comfortable home
even if that means
that I live alone
and end up just a lonely box of bones

I held her head until my hand touched the pillow
then as I pulled my arm back
she used her fingers to entangle mine
and looks up to me and says
with her other hand in my hair
she says "I feel free with you Brian
                  like I am being who I truly am"
the yellow glow of the moon
circles like little canaries around the room
I can hear her heart
boom
boom
boom
emitting our own light
it is impossible to wear clothes
because of the heat that radiates
when we are this close
I open a window
and I follow her out into the unknown
during the scary hours
courageous and bold
alone and at home
laying together
giggling by the light tickling
of feeling the grass grow
I used my finger to draw
her face in the sand
she smeared it with her hand
and with a smile on her face
she says "please, draw it again"

you are a permanent ink
and I cannot seem to get my fingers clean
no one will shake hands with me
they are afraid of the things
that I wear on my sleeve

I am always arguing semantics
with strangers on the street
staring at the people in the park
plucking the leaves from a living tree
I want to furiously say something
but I just let them be
the leaves will grow back eventually
and maybe that couple will fail
and that living relationship forgets how to breathe
from the outside karma is amusing
boredom has led me to a road dark and eerie
and I am not fearing any reaper reaping
welcome to my life
irony
I am the reaper
reaping the ever growing seeds
that I always tend to plant near spring
never prepared for the yield
the end of summer brings
left with the weight of everything
I feed myself until I have only one option
to explode all that I am
through any medium
other people can see
or hear
or read

I signed my name backwards
on you in your sleep
with permanent ink
when you look in the mirror
you will remember me
and be forced to walk around
with your own pocket full of seeds

no ordinary double sided mirror
pondering thoughts
until those thoughts were clearer
in a range of out stretched arms
a velvety skin
cannot hold on
turns to smoke
it rises then disappears
a superstitious mind will whither in time
as intelligence grows like an invasive vine
up the back
around the spine
and into the mind
a tumbleweed of a distant thought
rolls on
I have laid so long
my ambition has turned to stone
never sleeping right
never sitting still
approaching everything
as if it were too good to be real

I have your face
I keep it in my mind
in a compartment
that any injury would not find
you will be with me until I die

I have your heart
and maybe
that is why it is always broken
and falling apart

I have your taste
and imagine that you would hate
all the things that I hate
and I know
we love the same things
brunettes and art
and the way mister plant sings
the calmness the dead bring
and one day you will dance with me
just like you do in my dreams

I knew a girl who had footprints
on the rug in front of her mirror
and when she stood there
she would break things
there was glass
everywhere
all of the time
I watched her climb to the roof
with her wings out
screaming at the world
who pushed her around
and made this place hell
she went to fly
but fell
as I lay beside her
I question myself
while trying not to get sick
from the smell