how much would i give to be a cat
my pendulum tail tick-tocking on top of the countertop
like the metronome that sits by the piano unused
(but the ghosts turn it on every once in a while
when they tire of standing behind my shoulders
at four a.m. when i am in love and cannot sleep)
with the rays of sunlight that erupt
in the morning, i'll sing 'til the door swings open
and feet will emerge, and on top of them legs
that hold body and hands to feed me,
all for me and
no other being will be as praised as i,
the king of the kitchen

sometimes the flowers dance
better than the ones you love
sometimes the trees will sing arias
smoother than the lead of the play
sometimes the leafy bushes hide
better than closed mouths
sometimes the creeping weeds  
are stealthier than the criminal
sleeping next door

sometimes when everything is falling down
dandelion fluff can find its way around
and even in our human stillness
grass can still be free

they keep asking me if I'm 'okay'
and i can't say no because look at this,
a flawless facade drawn
with such vivid accuracy that the
picture is a photograph and I can
see myself in that mirror with my
perfect smile and life all ready
to be burned down to the skeleton in
my own fight for the freedom of man

and how can i deny the fact that I am
utterly miserable with this fleeting grin
and crying laughter that makes people wonder
if someone is dying in the next room over
when the disease is a cold and they have cancer
you know they can hear your sadness and they
are currently flying through their own darkness
to find the strength to strangle you until you cry no more
but it only makes you grow colder

the only proof for 'okay' is the words
that blare out like a speaker on repeat
because this face can't let them hear my cracking porcelain ;
not the little dying girls down the hall.

can someone explain to me
how it is that you can say I am
not real
not really
that I still feel the stings of hurt when she leaves me
or the knife twisting in further as he betrays me

can someone explain to me
how it is that you can think I am
so broken
for breaking it off
when I just need time to think to myself
without this constant caterwalling of i love you

i love you
i love
i
i
i

can someone explain to me
how all that is left is i
resounding
astounding
in the love that's grown empty and
puffed up with promises of You

the ten dollar bill is folded over on itself
she cannot see the zero, only the one before it
as it sits there undisturbed beside the empty bottles
one beer, one water
one prescription lotion
cap still lying open as the
comfort inside hardens into dust
and the room is full of nothing at all
but the empty and the misinterpreted
as she lay there staring in the still silence of life
no noise, no light
no sign of motion
in the entire house but the
gentle tap of her fractured fingers against her leg

Why is it that when we feel
like our world has turned inside out
flipped over like a dying fish like a dying bird
like a broken wing bent out of proportion
all we can do is say a two letter word
in a fleeting expression softer than the fleece
on my freshly washed jacket where I hide
from every sound and breath

oh