I have been waiting to tell you this for years
but every time my lips began to part all that was left on my tongue were the ghosts of words that were once there
my throat starts closing and it feels like i have just swallowed a million shards of glass
so i don't say it
i want to say it
but the glass is multiplying and i can't
i can't tell you
i already know it won't work out
we've tried after all and we were always on different planets
thousands of light years away
it is 7 p.m. and i am thinking about you as much as i do when i can't sleep at 4 a.m and
now that we are on the same planet
i've found the words that were lost for so long
and they sound **** close to I Love You

the way he rolled his cigarettes was godly
and i know baby that you miss how he tastes of smoke and loneliness
and i know that you miss breathing in his aroma of stale coffee and sweat

you told me about how his hands caressed you like you were a whisper
and how he bit into your skin like you were something to be devoured

The guilt is back again,
I've peaked and dropped again.
And only from the top I can drop so far,
but maybe I'm shining in the light of a dead star.
And my life looks so much more meaningless now,
so unsatisfactory somehow.
This cycle's just so old but it works every time,
and it never fails to go around.

I think it's stupid
How I refuse to use straws
Because of a video I watched one time
Of one stuck in a sea turtle's nostril.

Or how there is really only the illusion of choice
And statistics from unreliable resources
Making us feel better or worse
About our decisions.

I tell myself to quit sugar
But honestly I just like my lattes
Sickeningly
Sweet
Like the love stories I thought could be under nooks
Around the corners
Of everyday life.

I like ice cream on winter days
Hot tea in the suns of summer
A walking talking irony

A bulb on its way to burning out
Sputtering in the half-eaten room
No one wants to go in to change it.

It's not my fault
The walls dissolve
And that same chord is continually played on the piano
In the corner of the upstairs closet.

It's not my fault
Cameras don’t bring me security
But sensitivity to my own identity.
Dissolution into absolution
Abolishment of egocentrism

And always,
The illusion of choice
Hanging in the rafters chattering.

Your hand clenched the back of my head.  
Clothes scattered around the room.
My hands slide down your body like they have a thousand times before.
It still feels so familiar.
You whisper.
" I missed you"
I pull your body into mine even more,
We haven't been intimate like this in a while.
Knives in my back, not of betrayal, of
Love.  
Your body is an earthquake underneath me.
But, you do not bring pain.
Life breathes out of you, fills the air around you.
Fills me.
Our bodies wrapped together, I don't know if there's a more beautiful scene than that.

Mid-October,
with leaves spilled
like colored pencil shavings ---

the streets dicing our town
into neat, unfair portions ---
and me, eatin' that *****.

We talk about roots
And I have some concept
Spent my summer
Digging up plants
And moving them
To other places.

I was the self-proclaimed
Smiling Creator

But my heart
Is at home
In the hills

I can breathe here
And it has always
Been so

Limestone
Is in my bones

The sound the hawk makes
Is my blues