The rain, and its concentration
on the back of your neck
the tiny hairs
on your tiny neck
Fixation has always favored the anxious

I'm not Fixated I'm furious
that life wasn't what they said it would be
that my strawberries are moldy
and half the world can't eat them anyways
that you never wear the colors
that made me like you in the first place
that now even I can't remember how you taste

In your sudden, redundant
paroxysm of rashy dreams
and itchy memories
and long, extended wailing
you old infant-hearted
lovely little mess

I stand here, stationary

Watching you kiss conductors
and straddle rails
that aren't going
far enough to see yourself
as I've seen you.

From the way that your angled
Our judgements are tangled.

Although our bodies recoil
From the grip of the soil
I'm too tired to hear you
Despite being near you

Though your face I will take
To the grip of the stake
Your hands tied too tight
In the heat of my flight

Please, please stop asking me
To decide what cannot be
Your bones like soft metal
Deserve harder battle

Though I cringe at the sight
Of your trembling might
You're much too weary
To see me so clearly

And stop trying to sweep
What's already too deep
We can't dig when our hands
Are still buried in sand

Leaving rambles like Rimbaud
In a bed where you felt someone
You shouldn't have knelt
With your bony knees on that bony floor
Prayers never answered anymore.

Kisses with saliva you did salvia
On your sister's bed
Awoke to Ok Computer
Above your head, the Archangel
Lay naked bathing in the light
Of your delusions, your mind twitching
In a state of confusion.