i thought if i acted disinterested enough you would notice
but you didnt
and you kept kissing and caressing until i told myself that *** would make me forget how unhappy i was because *** has always been the strongest part of our relationship

but it doesnt help anymore
it doesnt make me forget

ive been so wrapped up in who is right and who is wrong.
i try to place blame for why things arent working out because it would be easier if it was your fault
because it would be easier if it was my fault
and i still can't remember who started the last fight

and i dont want you to hurt
and i want you to have comfort
but i dont think either of us are providing anything but warmth
as we both curl up on opposite sides of the bed
isolated in our individual sadness
until our half sleep oblivion momentarily makes us forget why we were fighting
and we hold each other close
until the sun makes us remember

and so i cry because im mourning our relationship thats still slowly dying
and i cry because i shouldnt be this sad in a relationship
and i cry because im crying on some random porch steps down the street from your place because i dont want to come home to you.
and i cry and i cry
and in the pauses when im not crying over you, i cry over myself

and i feel so unloved
and then i worry you must feel unloved
and i wonder if we are just both too wrapped up in our own issues that weve forgotten how to care about each other

and im sorry i was cold
and im sorry i was mad
and im sorry the only way ive been able to deal with our relationship is dissociating
and im sorry i couldnt love you more

and when you are gone i still miss you
miss your arms around me
and even when we are together

i still miss you

and so i must let you go.

as i sit staring at the trees flit by, i leave
my head, no longer living in my sunken
sockets, descending deep down into the depths of my womb, stretching into my twitching ****.

every rumbly tumble of the ten ton
vehicle vrooming down the turnpike
outlines the echos of his hands.

the echos of them in the negative space between
my thighs that exists only in my mind as they
intimately embrace each other against the bus seat.
the echos of them still filling me making me feel
fantastically full and yet frighteningly empty.

i feel firmly on the fence between ****** and
arousal, every pothole filling my holes and
lurching me
towards ******, every
soft vibrational hum of
asphalt
against my asscheeks, pulling me back to my pleasurable perch.

i have reduced myself to merely a
warm,
wiggly wash of titillation, teetering in between
temptation and utter satisfaction.

i close my lids slightly and breathe in the
absence of his presence,
as if ive been staring at a dazzling light too long left only
with its dark twin in its vacancy.

the separation stretches speeding down highways, so i must
wait,
wet and wistful, to be bathed and
blinded by the brightness once again.

i need you to go
so that i may miss you

auto pilot kisses
caresses out of habit

if only i could open my lips and close my legs
speak and not moan
words not whimpers

need to be alone, need to think, need to feel
can i still feel

so much to say but nothing
if my lips are on yours
if my throat is around your ****

fill the hole in my head
the hole of my ****
the hole that is my heart

rub away at my **** and through my self-imposed numbness

**** my words and my thoughts  
down my throat until they disappear

but they wont

will i

I have nowhere to go
nothing to do
no one to be.

Soham.

Splayed out, face to the sky
let the ground consume me
let me melt into the floor and float
down a river of onyx oblivion.

Soham.

Hovering between inhalation and exhalation
let silence tattoo itself onto the back
of my lids
and stillness weave itself amongst my ribs.

Soham- I am that.

I’m bald as a rock, with a million arms
and a million words on my tongue.
The night’s darkness keeps me warm
as I take the world into my lungs.

Stars make me sneeze
and tickle the inside of my nose
as I sway in the breeze
and wear the twilight as my clothes.

My tree is made of clouds
and its trunk is made of me.
I stand alone in a crowd,
rooted in thoughts and inquiries.

i have stars on my knuckles,
a spiral on my head

an amorphous blob,
feathers and pounds i have both gained and shed

tangles in my underwear and on my toes,
stripes on my *******, ***, and thighs

a dent in my chest,
and dust in my eyes

my bellybutton is a blackhole

i am a work of art,
an unfinished collage
of heart, body, mind,
and no soul