If I could pull the threads,
that stitched the universe, together...
If I could slip between the tracks,
and barricade myself,
between buoyant clusters, of atoms
would you take note of my absence?
Would you remember I existed?
Would you even register,
the loss of me?
Or would I become as distant,
and extraterrestrial to you,
as a forgotten galaxy,
would you recall little more, than
terra firma, beneath your feet,
and never notice
that there's a hole
in the weeping glass dome,
above you?

Please don't look at me,
as I say this...
I know you've been so hurt,
and jaded.
What's the worth, of verse
when their words, were wasted?
I just want to be YOURS,

I want to merge our spaces,
I want to converge our places,
and disturb the stasis...

but I'm averting your gaze,
because there's no vacancy,
where your stones, will lead.  

Baby, what would it take,
for you to see home, in me?

I'm just so tired, of faking,
not being lonely...
I keep waking without you,
and aching, from deep.

I want to tangle around you, sweet,
as we're chasing sleep.
I want to chain all your doubts, up,
in braided sheets.
I don't want to wake up,
without you,
Laying next, to me.

I wanna take up,
your compass,

and pump,

til it... redirects,
to ME.

...But you behold me, divinely,
when you should be HOLDING me.
...Baby, what would it take,

for you to finally see home,
in me?

You,

blow warm breath,
into me,

e x h a l e

fragmented healing
into grey, smokestack lungs
warm energy,
wrapped
in a poison wind.

I pule, and whine, petulant:
"no," with a choke...
you squeeze scar tissue,
in your bloodless hands,
and expect it to flutter, for you?

It twists, like a wet rag,
in the stale air,
and bleeds, like the black tar
you hide, in your veins.

I can't

b re ath e,

and I'm drowning,
in the mud puddle, that is
you.

Your fingers, claw,
at the asbestos walls,
in long, ****** streaks.

I'm held fast, to the column,
in a burning building...
your white flag,
binds my limbs.
Your sweet smile
tears my ligaments,
in two.

I can't run, but

Why can't I
why can't I
breathe

I'm

C R A CKI NG

ash and bone, before you
something vaguely woman-shaped,
you hang your penitence, on.

I died, weighted,
beneath you,
and you just kept making love,

to a bombed-out, charcoal shell.

You can't hear me, crying.
It trickles away, soundless.
No pressure in the pipes;
no wind
in the reeds.

The finger valves,
only leak.

My blue eyed gaze
is henna,
on your brooding face
and forgotten again,
in mere
moments.

I vanish inside you,
like smoke.
Blue, scratchy ink--

a kanji insignia:
engraved,

upon the spot,
the location, where
your anatomical heart, should (be)at.

"Mechanical Soldier",
but I've never...
seen you fight for a nation,
that wasn't you.

If I weren't burdened,
with the weight,
of being a woman...
What would I do?
If each step I took,
wasn't visually measured
in the shake of my hips,
or the weight, of my *******,
tell me,

what could I do?

I'd scream, for you to chase me,
and run towards the surf.  
I'd throw myself, eagerly, upon its
cresting, ******* waves,
and lounge on top of bluest water,
floating idly by on its surface,
like a sleepy lotus flower...
dreamy, soft white petals,
stretched limberly towards the open sky,
and aching, for the kiss of sun.

I'd be unconcerned, and unaware
of the arch, of my back...
of the rosy fullness, of each cheek
as I bent, and knelt
between cascading water ripples
to capture pretty shells, and shiny stones
and present them all, to you,
with childish enthusiasm.

If I weren't burdened,
with the weight,
of being a woman,

I'd run, wild, through floral fields,
and hedge mazes,
as giddy, as a fairy.

I'd duck, under arboreal tunnels,
and climb, into the low-lying branches,
in the little copse, of trees,
and slumber sweetly
in its leafy canopies.
I'd immerse myself
between paperback pages,
as the wind steadily rocked me
like a babe, in its bassinet,
and the wind, whispered,
through vibrant leaves.

I'd rush out, to greet the rainstorm,
as its icy waters, folded over me.
I'd race, and run, and dance,
through puddles that split around bare feet,
and warbled, their enchanting echoes,
around the circumference
of saturated, joyful, ankles.

If femininity,
weren't the loaded gun
that presses my temple,

I'd wander, for hours, in pre-dawn streets...
blaring eighties music, like a wandering minstrel
down city streets and quiet, tree-lined roads,
until the bruisy, tangerine glow,
of impending sunrise,
gradually re-skinned my cheeks, and face.

I'd clamber across the overpass, to ogle the seasonal starbursts,
from up high,
in the blankest, blackest canvas;
fireworks screeching, screaming,

exploding, into new life,
thrown onto dark paper, like neon splatter-paint
Charring the ozone, to a hot, charnel glow
in an impossibly starry summer sky.

If womanhood, weren't the knife
they use to press my throat,

I'd spend the entire night under the stars,
gazing upwards, the way I used to.

I'd explore the navy breadth of midnight streets,
all its blues...nearly deaf, with resounding cricket chirps
nearly mute, beneath the busy squeal, of brown cicadas.

I'd travel for hours,
lost in a poetic passion,
just so in love, with things.
Dreamily gazing at a natural world,
with no strangers,
and no cars, following me
while my artistic eye,
drank in the atmosphere,
until satiated.

I'd climb poles, in sundresses,
clamber over fences,
explore the world,
and all of its understated beauty
without reservation, or end.

I could go anywhere,
I could go,
everywhere...
and never need a chaperone.

I'd think nothing of chasing dreams,
that suddenly grew teeth, or fangs,
and came after me,
like the main monster,
in a horror cinema.

I'd open up,

and freely speak,
to the people around me.

I'd never be too afraid,
to close my eyes, again
and receive a kiss,
at the end of a sweet date.

I'd feel pretty, to feel pretty.
I wouldn't try to hide it,
to chameleon myself into the crowd,
in the hopes that no one else,
would notice me.

I'd feel like family...was really family.

Smile so hard, that the mask I wore, would crack.

In short...
I would do all the things I used to do,
before someone showed me,
how dangerous it was, to live.