It never made a difference what I did or didn’t say to you.
You didn’t listen to me either way.
I could have told you the truth all along and maybe
then it would have made a difference. But I’m too lazy,
and I’m too tired, and it’s about time I gave up for once.
You gave up on me straight away and I thought I could pull you back up.
I guess I’m not always right.
I guess I’m only trapped in what boundaries you give me.

You make me so angry, but its worthless pounding on the door of a sound-proof room. I did anyway, and it only made my knuckles raw.
You hurt me. Does that mean anything to you?

      I found myself screaming.
      I found myself losing it.
      I found myself in the middle of nowhere, with no one, and nothing to say,
      wordlessly livid.
      Every thought inside if me no longer made sense.
      It felt like I’d lost control of my own life,
      all because I lost control of you.

      I was simply a flea on a tick on a dog on a hill on an island in the ocean of the world, which is barely a speck in the universe.
      I was a moment that no one heard—especially not you—
      a tree that fell silently in an empty forest,
      a lie that was told to a dreaming deaf mute,
      a ransom held for 12:03 P.M. that no one can pay, that no one even understands.
      I was a thought removed from a frontal lobe
      (“Pass the scalpel,” whispered remorsefully from behind a doctor’s mask).
      I was trapped in a memory you’d forgotten,
      and it was all I can do not to be completely erased.

Remember me! I wanted to shout, for waiting was no longer hoping. In my own sharp memory, I was surrounded by ice. It was fierce, yet completely withdrawn into the open window of your soul. All I could see was debris and packed boxes, stacked upon each other in the clotted, fatal shape of a skyscraper. The darkness of your fond shape wrapped me within myself, when I thought I was wrapped into you. You led me down a path that you knew I would be lost on, and you left me there without a word.

       I’m still stuck in this desolate world that we created,
       and as soon as you think of me, as soon as you return, I will greet you:
       “Welcome to every second in despair, every moment lost, every
       minute growing angrier; welcome to the storm is coming, to running
       from the monsters that aren’t even there, to burning fevers; welcome
       to dead but alive, to quivering and empty, to uncomfortably full,” I
       will say.

“Welcome to loneliness.”

I followed your footprints for nearly three miles
before I realized what I'd forgotten, and by then I was three miles away.
It was neat, clean, and all in order,
but that didn't make it any less wrong;
you know all I want to feel is right.

I keep having this feeling that you love me, but you're afraid to say it.
It's almost enough to make me free,
and I've been liberated before, but not the way I am now.
Everything's new at this point, which puts you in a different section of my life,
and my heart.
I still wish you wouldn't change who you are
just because I've changed who I am.

It's that moment of seeing something you never saw before,
or the second where you know your hand fits perfectly into his;
the way you sound when you sing,
or look when you dance,
or feel when you cry from happiness,
or eat a something you made yourself,
or clean your room,
or shower,
or fall in love.

The light coming through my window streaks the ***** floor,
but there's something in the floating dust
and the garbage on the carpet
that is infinitely
beautiful.

Dry tongues make for slow lies,
you prefer to use yours for kissing.
I can feel morsels of clam
between my nails, beneath the skin
but never touching—
that's impossible.

the time that counted your whiskers is still ticking,
and I am beginning to think you lied about being a cat
all I hear are dance beats in my shower.

it's not working any more to be red than it is to be any other color.
I'd gladly paint you
I'd gladly tell you exactly what you don't want to hear
even though it's not something I'm particularly good at
(it takes practice)
like ****** ******* with someone you don't love
or laying still.

there are people like you with ***** gym socks, who kiss their friends' older brothers,
who are always too late, who love something separate, who are small,
who forget to feed their cats,
who never say sorry,
who never say excuse me,
who never eat,
who never breathe,
who never remember.

tell those people for me:
if there is a time where no speech is readily available,
speak of something sad, or something incorrect.
ears are never ready to hear something they don't want to
they build up immunity
like blood cells,
but not really.

I must say, your skin looks nice when you lie,
we do like all the same things,
and have all the same mannerisms,
you are handsome,
I am gentile,
we are alone.
use six words.

I will gladly paint you any color,
as long as you supply the paint.