We cannot call it my "mind" today.

It's better defined as
a malfunctioning mess
of kaleidoscopic hiccups—
untimed bursts of glitter,
and mismatched shapes.

Curves clash with angles,
overlap, transform, repeat,
until the nonsense makes sense;
until the noise becomes
a soothing hum.

Without warning,
the improper becomes
the most mouthwatering idea
we've had the pleasure to rouse.

Composed of little
ten-second films of us,
bare-skinned in low light,
shifting in tempting tessellations
that bump and spiral
in heightening rhythms
just behind my eyes.

Such thoughts
were never meant
for a box—
rather a shape
more taunted and tantric.  

These.
My wax-dipped daydreams
that do not beg
a single sip of permission.

We walked together across the empty hallway with the bright morning light smashing through the windows. I grabbed him by the hand and suddenly I forgot about all the wrong paths life was leading me and for that moment everything felt right on Earth. I wouldn’t change a single thing about that day, though I was aware that was a selfish thought. But then again, why did I have to feel guilty about being happy? He was like a breath of fresh air on my lungs, like a feeling I could never get enough. He made all of the world's craziness seem bearable as long as he was beside me, and for the first time in my life I dared to let myself drown by that overwhelming thing that everyone's always talking about.

Sporadic. This girl
tells me she's going to live til she's
a hundred and thirty-three.
"I'm going to see history unfold
before my very eyes until
it's flat and spread enough,
it can't hold any more secrets."
Sporadic. This girl
tells me she'll find out history's secrets,
like they were more comparable
to her misplaced magic markers
than to the equality we so craved.
And the funny thing is that
she actually, truly, honestly believes that she can—
The other funny thing is that
I think I'm starting to believe her
and now, I've decided I'm telling her—
and she's walking towards me,
bright eyes and smiling lips
replaced by bitter lines and hues.
She's walking towards me—Sporadic.
This girl tells me that she's sorry
because she just got a call from her doctor—
Sporadic. This girl tells me
that she won't live past twenty-three.

I can still hear you walking,
stomping
Hoping you don't hear me talking,
stopping
realizing I'm talking to myself
cause there is no one else

You know, I used to get sick of the way
I cover everything up with laughter
I got it from you
And I used to wish I never had
It makes it hard to deal with things
Because I don't
I just laugh until it doesn't hurt
And sometimes that's worse

I used to hate how nervous I get
Before leaving the house
Always searching for something else
Always feeling like I'm missing something
It's not that cold,
but what if my car breaks down?

But I miss how smart you were
And how humble you were
When asking how to spell simple words
I **** at spelling, too
I got a lot of bad things from you
Or so I used to think

But now, it's as though all my flaws
Have become pieces of you
Laced through different parts of me
How could I ever hate them now?
I'm still learning to love myself because of you
I'm still growing to love the way you taught me to
I love myself even better now
And it's all because of you