I wish I was prettier than lies
I wish I had a grounding body
I want to be flightless
I'm stuck with air and bone
A head in the clouds
I wish you looked up more
I wish you'd bake in the burning rays that make me
What if you didn't avoid the sun
What if our bodies rested at the same time
And eloped together in the sunlight
What if there were trees and falling petals
But no shade to be found
What if you knocked me to the ground
I want to make your jaw drop
Your blood boil, your skin crawl
I want to make you feel alert and alive
I want to take it by stride
But I tip toe before I dive
The pads of my feet are wet with wonder
I leave footprints of jealousy
I reek of chlorine tears
The mop never dries
It just sits and waits in the closet
It's dark in here and I'm craving my sunshine
But you'd rather stay cool

Tones of grey
Spread like butter
On the canvas of my headspace
You bring the quiet and calm
To my rainbow palette of qualms
Holding me, molding me
You take me from vapor to solid
I'm the chaos of a turnstile but you're callused palms
I'm anywhere and everywhere but you bring me close
The night goes missing without you
I'm in purgatory
But looking into your eyes I see the map of where I'm supposed to be
Without a question,
My heart will always answer Anthony

I'm from Pennsylvania and its broken landscapes
Trees scale the sky with branches that don't end
Eggs crackle on the stove of your favorite diner, sunny side up
It's always sunny in Philadelphia
It's always rainy in the suburbs because the grass needs it
Or so dad says

I come from a place of constant decay
Historical avenues, local produce that actually goes 'vrot'
The leaves litter the earth but we litter it more
Old books decompose in desolate buildings and old art hears less footsteps as each season violently meets its end

It's cold now and the landscape is stiff
Imagine being so cold you just drop everything
Our trees do that
Like magic, or like troubled vagabonds
But imagine being so cold it brings happiness to your bones
Because home is ears flushed red and fingertips blue
Home is sweet strawberries in the summer and sweet suffering in the winter

Pennsylvania is a polarized wreck just like the rest of us
It's chipped right at the lip but it's still the mug that fits best in a calloused hand
It's clay and mud and d irty water and rud
Fields of corn and grain, apple orchards and more rain
But its the filth we dance in, the mud for our pies and the apples for our eyes

Memories stay behind as the shapes of clouds in those boundless skies
Berry stained fingertips graze their outlines
Haystacks beckon you to stay because
Pennsylvania provokes the hardest goodbyes

I think I like my life as a worn out Wes Anderson movie
Instead of pristine snow caps, I'm grey sludge, musky tastes of salt and gravel on the tip of the tongue, creeping up the cavities of my lungs
That coast reminded me of a muddy movie scene
Where's the version where the stones hurt your feet and the bank keeps the stench of carcass and earth?
The train tracks are my spine
And this café car is my chest, pulsating fast but even
Bridges make me uneasy, they are a little dance with death
I think approaching the afterlife is just as serene and seductively beckoning as the overlook
A couple blinks later, I'm somewhere else
But there's a haunting continuity, a sense of wholeness that tosses me with the ubiquitous leaves that reign after the rain
Some leaves still hang on, stubborn like yours truly
I hug my branches to myself
I hang on, too
The train rumbles past rusty soil
I like to relate to things and I like to think these fleeting sights like me almost as much as I like them
This filth has beauty so I'll allow myself be a disappointing form of being with potential for a subtle magnificence, too

There aren't many things that don't remind me of my mom,
She's the soft smell in my laundry,
The binding of my books
I miss her black eyed susans,
her blue eyed smiles
There's not a better blue than the one she & my brother bring to the world
She is patterned like tartan, counted stripes, and ducks in a row
She's sketched in sunlight and colored with rainbow
She's the first to rise and the first thing I want to see in the morning
Her laughter lies in my treasure box,
Her humming sends the heart home
When I'm the autumn coffee, bitter and complex,
She's the milky foam,
She's the caffeine without the side effects,
She's the calcium in my bones, the substance to my smile
She's the red in my blood, the blush in my cheeks
The flush in my ears, and the sundays of all my weeks
She's the comics in the newspaper,
She's the endless love behind every labor
Tea wouldn't taste the same without her
And she's a perfectionist,
So I can't help but think I'm perfectly made
Because of her

What do you mean? Shedding your skin and consuming it for nutrients is essential! The essentials, love breath and fire. I breathe fire when I speak and sometimes even when I mean to speak water. It bubbles up boiled. I like my shoes soiled. Don't un-scuff my scuffs. I put funhouse mirrors in the parlor. At least this time I can laugh at dysmorphia. I wonder what it's like to be morphia. I've tamed by brain since Tuesday. It's a no- shoes day. Scuffs all around. Scuffy, scuffy feet. Blisters like the wind. I'm hands and feet. Everything in between, obsolete. I'm brain sometimes too. But mostly feet. I need to ground myself. I've never been grounded, but I live in time-out. How do I flip time from outside, in? I fold each minute with the rest of the laundry. Bleach only. It's 10:55 somewhere. Some of somewhere is here. Some of it is elsewhere. Congratulations, it's brain o' clock! My psychiatrist rewarded me with a handshake. I'm finally touchable, within reach. I still shake in my sleep. I can put my thoughts in my pockets and save them for later. My pockets still have holes but there's a second layer. Antipsychotic or timeslayer?