maybe we could go to the river?
you don't have to remember what it felt like--
sizzling against the rain.
today i am lonely,
ticking in time with a broken clock.
entering a state of breaking daylight
lingering in the middle of february,
festering,
until it burns.

i want you
i want you
i want you
a delicacy--
a vision,
my epiphany.
you are starlight;
i am a fraction of the sun
and we
burn
burn
burn
in our own catastrophic collision

1; fear will not **** you, but it can eat you alive and make your insides rot.

2;you must allow yourself to thaw before you can melt--the cold was meant to allow you to feel your own heartbeat. don't ignore it

3; you are alive, even if just barely. make sure to lift your eyes to the sun to know that it still shines even amongst the dark.

4; breathe in with your nose and out through your mouth. you are a passageway for ancestral air and you should take that responsibility seriously.

5; your blood is not special, nor is it ordinary.

6; it is only by chance that you are here. a line of perfectly timed decisions birthed you--remember why you're here.

7; look at the mountains. they were here before you and will be long after you're gone. one day you will become the air that surrounds it.

8; you can lose your footing, but don't despair. sometimes you fall into a new path and it's like breathing in clarity you've never once known.

9; listen to what you're body tells you, it knows you better than you think.

10; when everything turns to dust remember you have the ability to start over. it cannot harm you to wipe the slate clean

tuscan summers,
wearing paisley and plaid,
barefoot amongst the wildflowers.

i would wear my wedding gown
in the backyard,
with our babies growing up on the front porch.

we had free range
underneath northern, starry skies--
taking trips to the mountains.

my books would be stacked
against the ivy
that crawled up the walls.

slow mornings,
crawling like molasses
out of the rickety screen door.

i would give up modernity
just to melt in the snow,
growing like weeds through
the cracks of your bone marrow.

and we all fall down;
down
twisted tunnels of temptation,
in the depths of our own insanity.
it's easier to rip the seams of time
with our bare hands
when we see through
glassy eyes.
the revving engines of impatience,
hearing future echoes of ambulances--
mourning taste buds looking for
a drop,
to quench the thirst
of someone that can't seem to swallow enough.