i would like to run away
far from the bogged down
existence i have made
sell my clothes, my hair
sell my words still
dipped in my blood
i’d use the money and
board a train, a ship, a plane
**** it, i’ll move to an island
everywhere’s an island
if i tell no one where i am

the letters used to taste vanilla sweet
they now stick in my throat cloyingly
it is so hard to pronounce,
a four syllable reminder of you
the shape of your name
has its edges sharpened
has its corners sticking out

(my mouth moves to kiss the air before tugging
the corners of my mouth back into a sneer
then i open my mouth twice, chomping
at the ends of your name, ending in a scream)

i used to trace it nightly
the slopes of your initials in my palms -
it was a river bend in its grace
it was a story in gentle motion
it was daybreak with lilac skies

now, your name is stuck in my throat
refuses me relief, refuses me reprieve
in a decade, in a second
perhaps then it will stop hurting
and yet the thought of that scares me
i want your name to hurt -
it is, i think, some semblance of love
i want to choke in it before i give it up

i had a dream - you and i
were forty-ish in a room
stuck at some premiere,
maybe yours, maybe mine
our eyes would meet
and i think, or maybe i hope
neither of us would look away
and you would finally smile
and i would smile
and that would be enough

the world is quiet whenever i cry
i could hear the birds, the leaves
falling softly to the ground
a sort of drunken lullaby

you don’t need to go there
you don’t need to open
every door that your mind
takes you to
you don’t need to do this
the labyrinthian musings
you don’t need to be
a snake eating its own tail
you don’t have to seek
paths no one else
has been back from
lay your head on my lap
let your worries fall off
your shoulders
i will braid you a story
that has a ribboned end
and you will be able to sleep
at last

i don’t understand
why doesn’t anyone want me?
i have a body ready to be carted
i have a soul ready to be juiced
my back is tired from the constant
push and pull, pull and push
this has been more than enough
i don’t understand it
i am a willing participant
to the exploitation
you don’t even need to ask
my mouth is already open
i am dying to be used
pulverize me into a husk
empty out my emotions
you will have no regrets with me
i can be a good machine

it’s a heavy feeling
wanting to die
i get wrapped up in it
caught in the rain with it
buried six feet under it
it’s a heavy feeling
when it is just me
and this
pounding, screeching
in my head:
how could there be
any space for my living
when already
i am holding hands
with my death?