i am standing on the ledge
the precipice presses
on the soles, in the soul
and chills me to the bone
i am standing on the ledge
and i am about to jump
into the unknown, evergreen
thoughts of mine flourish in
the inky, lonely midnight
i am standing on the ledge
if i look back, if i could turn
you and a hundred thousand people
stare at me, waiting
for me to flail, to fail, to fall
i am standing on the ledge
there is no safety net,
no wires connected to a pole
no helmet placed on my head
this is how i know it will be painful
i am standing on the ledge
there are no constraints,
no mistakes yet shackled to my belt
but the wide, glittering skyline before me
is how i know it will be glorious
i am standing on the ledge
my knees forward, my heart -
a clever, fragile thing - beats
strongly and reminds me i am alive
i jump -

there is something soft
in the way pain heals
how a fresh wound
hardens like a shield
and in time
blooms into new skin
how a purple bruise
reminds in its familiarity
that it will be alright
like it has been alright
so many times before
there is something gentle
in the way pain heals
how the heart is a muscle
that can be fatigued
that can be broken
and in time
be renewed

the trouble with friends
from what i’ve learned is
that often they only eat
in a table you’ll need
an invitation to

graciously, you must
accept the request
as if your stomach wasn’t
desperately craving
hunger devouring you

remember to be
inoffensive, tasteful
make yourself palatable
don’t forget the garnish -
only then their dinner’s served

i know this is overwhelming
but what else can you do?
you do not want them to
chew and spit you out -
you want to be digested

laughter is now empty
how the voice shakes
vibrating in the air
marking the territory

there are a
million, million things to do
there is nothing i can do
but wait for you to
wake up instead

silence is overbearing
but what can words do
but make things worse?

falling in love is
a little death
the chaos of its creation
revels in the
confusion which
bursts into brilliant white
then comes its
pseudo infinite life span
the way i think it will go
on and on and on
but really it ends
with a whimper and
a quietness
that marks its
last exhale

this afternoon's rainfall
reminded me of
the start of september
i remember -
the barely there glimmer
of the end or the beginning
though i could never tell the difference
the long, unbending river
of goodbyes i left drowning
in between the truth and lies
the simple quietness, the whisper
of my house, my room, my mind
as all stare back at me
watching me, no -
daring me
to fly

what i've noticed is
love usually simmers into a boil
the heat of it becomes
bubbly laughter, its warmth is the
evaporation of the senses
its result fogs up my lenses
until all i can see is the smoke
then if i want, i could either
bring it down and let it cool
or let it reach a fever pitch
and watch it overflow
and instead of filling in the shape
it breaks the container it was in
it takes a while for me to decide
whether i got burnt
or have become alive