You are my bookshelf.
From tree trunk to my room;
with nightstand and couches for neighbors.

In some catalogue you might
be ordered and tidy, with turquoise
bindings and untouched papers.

But you age with me,
we wither and decay.

If I wanted you to stay flawless
I would need to do the same.

The tomes that burden you
are portals to your heart.
Without them, what would you be?

When I wipe the dust off, I wheeze -
Yet I wouldn't open your books
If I didn't care enough to see.

For with every new novel,
every remarkable misadventure,

Your shelves creak and strain,
but my passion for you grows tender.

It's just so unhealthy.
bad for my grades
bad for my appetite
bad for my slumber

Just handcuff my cortex -
I can't keep pretending
like this isn't all I think about

I can hear the sirens coming
so I start a crossword puzzle

To distract; lest I indict myself more.

Li-ttle peo-ple do-ing a-dult things.
Life is too slow, get out of the slow lane.
Friends are too dull, get out of your mind.
Hitch a ride on the veins of your arm.
This liquid is the fertilizer to your flowers.
The ink to your shocking autobiography.
You've broken those ropes that once constrained,
Left that home that made you gasp for air.
So drive off into the sunset and breathe.

"What are you afraid of?"
nothing
The nothing that left, but never said why
So that when you lay on the tiles,
it feels like a whole breath escaped you.

I feel it when I reach into my right pocket
and fail to hear the sound of keys.
Yet those problems have solutions, and I
am left with nothing I can do.

Heights - a worthy foe, a common problem
Keep your shoes at sea level.

You cannot flee from nothing
Nothing is terminal: the outline of its shadow.

Serpents and spiders may sink their fangs,
but there is no antidote which lets you do,
when all you can do, is nothing.

isn't it a shame how
one little memory ruins
such appetizing scenery?

a bus stop by a hotel.
empty church parking lot.
the riverside pier.

if I could frame those spaces
and show you what I saw
maybe you'd change your mind.

a fear of falling fast.
stumbling youth left unlived.
promises broken.

this one who has stepped on stones
through the green marshes of my mind
ignored the moss and the mulch
that the creatures leave behind.

to her, the path is familiar
knowing more about the land
than the architect of the maze
who constructed it by hand.

While they have never looked
deep into each other's eyes,
The pathway through the swamp,
the two souls did devise.

That night our love was
fluorescent and mint-green.

Air stood still in the hospital halls,
and I could hear your lungs at work.

I took my shoes off to match you,
and let the sleeping tile freeze my soles.

I only felt suited when
I could share a fraction of your pain.

A promise was made.
We would keep your bracelet.

When you are released,
we'll stash it in a safe place.

When a plague sinks its teeth,
I'll put your bracelet on.

To remind me of the wounds
I wanted to take for you.