You're not in love,
you just like
entertainment.
Blood boiling,
tense muscles
put your mind
at ease.

You're not kissing,
you just like
the gesture of hope:
the softer the lips
the harder it is
to walk away.

You quote their texts
like you're quoting
scripture.
The tweets you study
cause your heart
to freeze.

You're like a god
without a people:
You're looking
for anyone
to believe
in you.

I dreamt about
a ****** t.v.
movie.
I put myself
in a lover's shoes.
I said, "You're
not that lonely
but you like
the attention.
And I guess
I'd like to
give it
to you."

The tent fly
flapped
in the
Arizona dream.

I fell out
of the door.
Saying,
"I should be
dead soon."

My bleeding feet
stained the
brown sugar sand.

And God
was everywhere;
in my cuts.
In me.
In us.

And God
was nowhere;
absent-hearted-
blood-kissed-
consciousness.

My hands gripped
at the cheeks
bordering thin lips.
I kissed the
Arizona dream
as if it were
my own.

If it were my own.
If you were my own.

i think i will survive if i can wait a little more
i'll wait until
the last of you is walking
out the
door
the hours have been good to me
the miles
make it
clear
that life can still be beautiful
without you being
                           here
it's when i press my lips to yours
that everything
returns
and opens up a world with an intensity that
burns
enough with the explosives
i don't want them
anymore
the back of you in front of me, i'll run to close the door

you and I are made of something breakable and small
Reduced to what the masses say they cannot see at all
But when I let you in to me you're bigger than myself
You take up all the space I couldn't give to someone else
And down we go together - deeper faster, slower still
Remembering the moments we unraveled at our will
And all it took was one of us to make a move that day
Now look at where it's gotten us, we've fallen all the way

The best purchase I ever made
was the blackout shade for my bedroom window,
made to allow ignorance towards
the hasty mornings in which you arise.
Glass panels show haze across the valley this January. Did you sneeze?

For a world that revolves around you,
it's beautiful.

Even though the mountains aren't as tall anymore,
and the clouds hang lower—unlike your self esteem, but much like mine—I can still climb these melting piles of guilt in an attempt to reach solitude.
What is solitude?
Can anyone find this in a muddy world that revolves around you?