coffee stained poetry
and an unsettling feeling in my left hand
the humidity makes it hard
to do most things I enjoy
like walking and breathing
in the other room there's
an innocent one sleeping
he doesn't know
I spilled some coffee
I'm taking unfinished breaths
these rooms are feeling like home
but I don't yet trust the streets
what would you wish for
if you were stranded
coffee stained poetry
but mostly release

why do i keep imagining you
in the hospital
        (you’ve probably never been)
                                        (for you)
                        (for)
                                (you)
shaking from something
        other than the temperature
        maybe seven years ago
                (maybe last month)
                (i’ll never know)
                        (you)
you have eyes with tragedy
        but so do i
        so does she
                        (last year)
the pounding heart of trauma
        my quick attention to
        your quivering palms
                        (it’s too easy)
                        (and could be hunger)
                        (caffeine, a natural situation)
but to me it will always be
chemistry or a bad reaction

this is improv
don't think about it
don't imagine the long term
say yes
questions later
focus on now
focus on you
what do you need now
time and company
deep breaths at
midnight
there's something
about
that train going the other way
that makes it
worthwile

i.
trapped in cliches about exploding stars
and only existing in sporadic stagnant structure
phrases slip with every blink of an eye
and my home is emptying out day by day
things packed away nowhere to be found
at least for a while we need a break
to become afraid of a month
to become afraid of inconsistent communication
to become afraid after the click of a phone
reminders of anniversaries i want to forget
guilt of everything feeling connected
dry eyes, dry mouth, a headache
the inability to take in a full breath

ii.
jumping off of a moving train
thinking there would be no tracks
but it’s exactly where you stumbled into the woods
with a trail of letters coming from behind
it was too easy to follow you home
now the trail is thicker and deeper than before
lined with white lilies and nicotine
a society obsessed with blame and guilt
it was a matter of time for someone
to find company in 80 proof at 40%
you’re in the hands of the trees now
and the trees can be so reckless
when handling something so fragile

iii.
now there’s ash and thorns in the hallways
and bridges we never knew existed
these days the sun seems to set around noon
and we’re all neglecting our duties
the thought of the past rips the fabric apart
faces are beginning to look smudged
the calendar days are all cleared off
the stomping sounds are getting closer
the glowing eyes in the corner are getting brighter
and the darkness is almost comforting
but all the consolation is becoming white noise
why do you walk with weights in your heels
don’t you know this floor is made of glass?

they told me she was walking through the hallways
but when i looked up all i could see was her train
like it had been dipped in the blackest ink
then dragged through the most silver of stars
we were talking like we were becoming royalty
and we could never know what was buzzing
underneath the veil or where she was walking -
or whether she was walking towards something
or leaving someone to glare as she went on
i smiled and tried to agree with the storm
but she looked over her shoulder at me
and it was spring and winter all at once
when for a splintered second in the hall
i thought i had seen the entrance to the place
where someone so young could understand us
more than she could understand herself -
where poetry for the less concerned could be seen
or understood in a way we never thought possible;
because we could see our bones lying in front of ourselves
but we couldn't recognize our faces in the mirror

I'll lay down again
and let my walls expand
to let in all the oxygen
from every argument
and souls will speak 
like clouds cluttering 
around my eyelids;
I'll exhale everything
towards the stars
and hope that by the time
this sky spins to you
your nose will twitch
you'll look up
and think of me
sending over
just one more year.

after midnight in a town we’ve never been
we have miles floating off our backs
and miles reaching out with
their long ghostly fingernails
to pull us back to somewhere we know
there’s a thousand tapping fingers
on steering wheels owned
by hands we will never hold
but i can’t but wonder what brought them here
why they’re driving down the same streets as us
who were they with before they left so late
how were they feeling when the door closed
and how are they feeling now
that their brakes go on and off
like a warning signal or a stone message
what sorts of waves are pulling up
on the small bumps of their forearms
how much longer until we get home
and are we witnessing a final stretch
or a final attempt at escape
there’s no way of ever knowing
so the window remains slightly cracked
and i’m breathing in love
like being shown something so wonderful
like i somehow swallowed hope and fear
and can now only wait