i know my feelings aren't significant,
no matter what my mother tells me, and i'm losing my words.

my eclectic mind is in a way
lost. lost, lost, lost, i'm so freaking lost but this repetition of confusion will do nothing to save me from myself.

my hair's all over the place. you say it doesn't make me look a mess. you say it makes me seem real. you say
nothing anymore.

this is thirst,
the force of which could **** innocent people. a drought of love can be dangerous.

soft sound.
a whisper into your satellite dish reminding you that you are deaf to beauty and blind to the love that's in front of you and always have been.

i wouldn't want to dress up as depression, angst, or sorrow
because then i'd match with everyone.

i. (lights)
paper lanterns
floating through the sky
halloween evening.
stars.
street lamps.
you are, you are, you are(...)
(bitter tastes are filling my mouth
but the acidic poison makes my tongue glow
glow glow in the dark.)

ii. (mathematics)
one plus one is two.
a real number.
me minus you is an imaginary number.
(it doesn't exist, but someone created
a way to make it exist.
i'm forced to exist
without you
by the rules of life.)

iii. (truths)
******* hell.
you are a baby bottle boy
and i'm a pacifier princess
we can't both be in the same place
at the same time.
*(maybe i'm wrong)

everything is confusing. i don’t know what i want but i guess that’s okay.

( leaves look red in autumn because the chlorophyll in them is deconstructing. they aren’t really green that’s just the colour of the light they reflect. i feel like that’s so very curious. there’s something about biology, the living world. it’s not as strange as we thought it was so many years ago but it’s not as simple as we think it to be when we don’t think about it at all.)

true colours run deep within the veins of every leaf, but its only when it's insides are being ripped apart that they show.

this is not a paradox, this is the way the universe tells us who we are.

you can’t run away from me.
i’m the fate you can’t escape.

one day in a smaller city and you
forget that where you came from was like
a small town too.

small cities with big houses,
and rich folks with richer spouses–

is this the american dream?
because i never dreamed of this.
not really.*

all the lights are dim here.
streetlights, table lamps, and stars.
they all are just bright enough to overthrow
darkness, but not bright
enough to give anyone hope.

but the houses are nice,
and everyone drives an energy efficient car,
and it’s all quite nice
if you look you don’t look
behind
the curtains.

one day in a smaller city and you can’t
forget that you are small too.

there’s a sea of people running away from the smoke of their pasts.
they call out the names of their mothers, and ex lovers
they look up at the sky and fear that the moment
they've been waiting for
has happened already.
call me a stranger, it’s okay.
it’s okay to say that the moments are evanescent,
because they are.
but it’s not okay to pretend like
they never happened
because they are here. fading, but here.
i’m here. fading into the blur of people, but i am here.
tell me something.
tell me i’ve been running towards the wrong end
of disaster, or that the world is upside down and
i’m actually walking on the ceiling, and
that years, and years, and years ago,
people used to swim in the sky
and swallow mouthfuls of the galaxy.
wait a moment.
i know it’s been too long,
because i’ve waited for ages to dance in the moonlight,
to go
around and around.
there is no remedy for going in circles.
but to take the straight path would turn
me into a straight-edged square.
i’d rather not become that version of myself,
that person scares me.


/


the night sky is easier to imagine
when
you close your eyes with that classical music playing
in your ears, flannel sheets wrapping your body
in their embrace.
i embrace the lights in the night that are lanterns
floating in the dark conquering it, if only just for
a little while.
they say only light
can conquer the dark
but they never really tell you whether or not
the dark can ever swallow the light
in its mouth of black holes, whirlpools,
and eternal sleep.
the lanterns go out,
and where are we but in the dark,
making ourselves into something
that is almost useless,
but not
pointless.
are you ready now? i ask.
are you ready?


/


your cough syrup throat and my candy corn teeth
are playing hide and seek,
i’d never make you bleed.
the glitter on your eyelids remind me
of a time that was prettier than this one.
the stars would  s  h  i  n  e
and b-l-i-n-k like neon lights,
and they’d carve our names into the bark of the
sky, a memory of the oceans we drowned in
when they stretched between us.
your lispy words, and my groggy voice.
mornings, and skydiving from the chandeliers
into a pool
of deeper thoughts.
i’m caught up in my imagination,
it’s the weights around my ankles
pulling me down
into a more dangerous place
where imagination and reality
collide.
i find asylum in the everyday nonbeliever.


/


hurry on now, my darling, it is getting late.
hurry on now, my lovely, although you can’t run from fate.
these celestialities are all driving me mad.
this celestial city can’t be all that bad.
it can’t be
all that bad.

i just want to go some place nice,
somewhere the sky is pretty- like you.
i want to be like you.
you know, i have a lot to give to the world i just-
don’t know what it is yet.
but i’ll get there. i promise i’ll get there.
until then my heart will be in that pretty place
there, the trees will be tall,
and it will always feel like autumn. warm,
but cool. and the leaves
will always be in those orange-red hues,
the water will stay so clear and blue, that
you will see little minnows when
you dip your toes into the creek.
i’m not used to living on the edge, i’m just living
and that’s alright with me,
because i don’t want to be someone
i am not.
i am careful.
i am not reckless.
in that pretty place, the sweet little people
will be in their sweet little homes.
although, some of them will not be home they
will just be in a house.
a house they wish was a home,
but it can’t be because
home is where the heart is and as pretty as that
little place is,
their hearts are not there.
their hearts, like mine, are elsewhere.
perhaps with the stars and their blinking lights,
or at the bottom of the sea,
where the pebbles are rough beneath your toes,
and you try to hold your breath forever
because you are no longer
in the shallows.
you are somewhere deeper.
i want to go some place the water is deeper,
and the people think clearly
through all of the fog
and it’s all pretty
like you.