I'm sick and my skin hurts, I said
you smiled at me, that coy side smile
and asked if my host was rejecting this body
... maybe it is.
thirty years is a long time to live in one shell
like a hermit crab, I've outgrown my home
this illness is my body's way of reminding me
that it's time to find something greater
move on, my skin whispers
... so I do.
I decide to become someone different
a new sleeve to hold my being
it's not as difficult as you might think
shapeshifting takes time and energy
but it can be a rewarding practice
soon I'll feel comfortable in my skin
once more

there's an awful emptiness
in relatable content
when hundreds of people all
experience the same
loneliness and pain
but no one can do anything
about it, so instead they just
laugh, a fake laugh, and say
"yeah, I know how you feel!"
as if commiserating will somehow
ease the pain when someone dies
or something in your heart goes askew
but if every awful experience is common then the norm is misery
which is not a norm I'm willing to accept
or maybe relatable is an adjective
for anything relevant to the human experience
in which case, every moment, every feeling, every instance
is relatable and therefore dreadfully unoriginal
so-- I propose we change the meaning of the word itself
allow it to become more, a warning to break free
a protest to rise up against
the normative and to seek the original
to become inspired and to connect with others
in unique and meaningful ways
join me in reclaiming what is relatable and instead
seeking what is new

my heart is wire and sinew
processing speeds and generated power
a motherboard that beats, beats, beats
you're a human, but baby,
I'm a machine

I'll keep powered until the day
my software is outdated
my ram slows down
the blue screen of death flickers
where I never reboot again

trade me in for a newer model
my feelings are connected to electricity
I've already processed my own abandonment
and have already grieved your absence
in a million different codes of binary

I remember your hands on my keys
you pushed all of my buttons
knew every function inside and out
you turned me on and kept me going
you are the spark that ran my code

but now, despite my own wishes
I'm made to keep running
I'll whirl and click and buzz and work
and for a moment, I nearly believed
that a machine could feel love

some days, the only thing I want
is someone to talk to again

I could spend the rest of my nights searching for another you
trying on lovers like new pairs of shoes
knowing the sun will rise along with the memories
but I'd rather spend my morning hours with thoughts of you
than have to pretend his hands will ever compare to the way your words made me feel

come to me, all you who weep,
and lay your body down.
your tears shall nourish flowers which
spring forth from barren ground.

confess to me your sins and then,
as gentle as the dawn,
let mine arms your comfort be
and ease your mind forlorn.

for i have endless love for you,
my sweet misguided one.
forgiven shall your trespass be -
your weeping days are done.