Birds singing from beyond my walls
always heard but never seen.

As I begin to wonder if the sound's just playing in my head,
my mind's desperate plea to be released from
the windowless box I keep it in,
the knocking starts--
pounding really--
slightly above my right temple.
I put my hand to my head as my body collapses to the floor,
I only know it because I am standing over it, peering as I watch my own eyeballs roll back.
I feel no pain
I feel nothing, actually, because I don't think I am I--
I am just my mind now
floating through the walls and joining the birds' songs--
I forget what I was thinking about before

I love you* I thought,
as you sat across the table,
wishing I could say it out loud
and grab your hand and cry.
but I laugh at my thoughts
because their validity is questionable:
wishing to say something
and wanting to say it
are completely different concepts.

when you wish for something
it’s out of your control,
a silent hail-mary pass
to a blind wide receiver.
but wanting something
is more than just an action or a feeling
it’s a state of being
that will overcome body and mind,
and achieving that want
is all that matters.

So I might wish
that I could say that I love you,
but what I really mean
it that I want to love you.
and that’s why I don’t say it.
because I know I don’t.

as if falling down the earth
with you wasn't enough,
you take my hand and
hold me close and
whisper real loud
all the words i love until
the breath leaves my lips
and leaves them cold and dry
and dizzying up my head
so the world spins faster
than my thoughts which is
so impossible that the possibility of
the impossible makes me
cry with excitement and makes you
hold me closer- so close that
for a moment you can hear my thoughts
and the moment after that you gasp
with amazement because you knew
my mind was different jumbled crazy
like i know too but it just happened so fast
to you all at once and you didn't expect it
so your mind suddenly went into
overload and fried the hard drive
of your brain
and your unconscious mind screamed in agony
and your superego was impressed by my id
and your ego just shook a finger and
mildly scolded my brain
for mildly scalding yours
and as you cooled down and
your eyeballs rolled back
you were suddenly a different person
that i didn't like
which made me wonder how anybody
liked me at all or ever but you did,
but now you're not you and
the old you is gone and
the new you is me and i am
nothing.

Standing three feet away from me
   on a crowded Barcelona street
   you studied the map,
         oblivious to me studying your face.
     Your pink cheeks, the straight bridge of your nose, the corners of your mouth, your  
     perfect left ear that brings my eyes to the ***** of your soft neck.
I longed for you on that street—missed you, urged for you
I missed you as if you were 3,000 miles away,
           a face on a screen, a voice through the phone, words on a page,
the urge is the same as you stand merely inches from my body,
close enough to smell
your scent wafting towards me mixed with the crisp Spanish breeze.
   I lean in closer as your gaze catches mine
   you smile slightly and reach for my hand
   I clutch it and squeeze tightly as your scent and the breeze tickle my arms and my chest.
my mind gets cloudy as we run past hundreds of different people
                 or maybe the street was empty,
         I don’t remember that day
         but I know that I missed you as you stood three feet away.

I am finally free from the ******* of my rib cage
the shallowness of breathing is no longer a hindrance
Life is no longer my keeper
and Death no longer the enforcer
I am the air
and I am the vacuum of space.

I wonder about the wind,
the one that
flows through the trees
moves the clouds through the sky
carries the birds off the ground
plays a song out my door
makes leaves spin in fall
taps on my window at night.
I wonder if it’s you,
surrounding me tight
pushing me to keep walking
brushing my hair from my face
whispering ever so quietly
that every thing will be all right.

"sí, sí, claro", digo,
cansada y agotada.
el sol se hunde en los arboles,
y mi cabeza quiere caer en la almohada,
pero no me permites,
"solo son las ocho y tres", te quejas,
"despierta, hablame."
ya he estado despierta durante casi 22 horas,
pero no te importas,
solo quieres mirarme marchitar despacio,
mira el dolor en mis ojos
y el temblor en mi voz.
pareces más viva como esto ,
casi puedo oir en tus pensamientos.
Entonces, quedo despierta, solo para tu placer.
Nunca me agradeces.