I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

Six feet apart, feet wide apart
relentlessly checking the doorways.
I wished I was six feet under,
wished some seismic sea wave would arrive
and pull me asunder.
I locked myself in the third-floor bathroom
because I didn't want to wander the halls.
There are people stuck in these walls
and I hear them, I hear them, I hear them
       I hear them when I walk alone
  and they're all screaming
         for me to leave this place.
There are people stuck in my head
and I keep them there until I'm ready
to think about them,
       ready to write them down.
This is a warning.
    Do you see the red flashing lights?
      Are you looking at the black and gold stripes?
I was warned in a different way
and now I'm warning you not to stay
    here.
Some people are so naturally ordinary,
and others don't quite fit in place.
Parts of them do not align, so to speak,
They are never looking directly into your eyes
and you only smile a half-smile,
                       because you feel bad,
                          but not that bad.
Why are you still here?
Don't you have somewhere to be?
It's not worth it to meet
  just to see me curl myself in a ball again,
    make a home for myself inside my head
   putting up a picket fence there
          so the dogs don't come for me.
I admit that it's a juvenile fear.
But I promised myself I'd run away
when my fingernails started to rattle,
and I've kept my word.

Why can't I be
the spinny chair
in your office
for two?
There's nothing more
I want than to
matter to you.

Please, Please
let me be what I am
trying and dying to be:
Your lover that you'd
prefer to be some other,
with our kisses
covered in fleas.

I'm remembering to miss you,
but you'd have to
be here at some point.
I'd miss you so badly
I would dangle
your intestines over my mouth.
Can we kiss in the shade,
if we pretend I'm somebody else?

I can be the running car
in your suburban garage.
I want to steal you and feel you,
or just feel at all.

Catch me in your water,
smiling with the goldfish
and the flakes of snow angels
that bleed out every wish.

We can tremble
and mumble,
and stumble
in our darks.

There's no love that couldn't
hurt me now.

the days i am reminded what it is to be alive
i climb out of my body through the thoughts that i contrive
there's nothing but deceit when you believe you're on your own
that life is death, is coming quick and you will never know
but there is something humbling about the pressing on
despite the state of everything convincing you it's wrong
if you can let your screaming head's cacophonies fade out
you'll taste the peace you once forsook for bellow's heavy shout

i want to be held the way our galaxy holds the earth
there once was a boy that held me how the sky holds a sunset orange
beautifully
but temporarily
i painted his edges in soft watercolors, wrote his mistakes in gentle calligraphy, made something hurtful turn into something healing
he loved her more
and let me go
and now i find myself looking at someone else from the corner of my eyes, wondering if a tiny, flickering feeling can be valid at all among the fire of my others
i hear a requiem for a dream and my heart flutters like it did two years ago
two years
i want to be held like the galaxy holds the sun, the stars, the earth,
in a delicate orbit
a bright light in dark space