At what height is appropriate
To strain, sift
I must be doing this wrong

You are beautiful
But you are
For show

I dreamt of temptation
Terrorism
A storm

You are
Cruel

I dreamt so vivid
When I woke up you weren't there
I was still

One blink, blink blink --, blink
     180 degrees, 160, 13 -, {soft focus}
                          Obtuse  - >infinity<
                                        
Rolling over Kilimanjaro
Sinking through the Grand Canyon
like wind

Hormone flooding
Like rapids
Eroding consciousness

Blink, awake, blink, blink - blink
I am watching a scenario in my mind
Walking after midnight in a snow blanketed field
And a full moon
Blink, daydream,

I don't know which is louder
The sound of my heart beating
My skin rubbing together,
Or the hum of thoughts traveling through.

Little faults
like the surface of the desert
where the water once moistened the floor
gave life to the sweaty and salty substrate

Exposed by the small fractures
the sun barely penetrating
the crust grows miles thick

The perishable content
suffocating under the weight of its own swathe
melting from the warmth
liquifying everywhere
all over everything

I've become foreign
My mind- evaporation
Concentrated mad

standing on
A rock
The furthest dry point
In nubanusit

You are blinded by the sparkle
The beauty
Of the golden sun
Bouncing off the water
Reflected by the pale blue sky

A photograph of you and her
And you are the happiest you've ever been
I'm looking at it

you
Are perfect for each other

missing clarity
my mind like a murky pond
there at the bottom

The first time she flew through a window
she thought of the chair
through the drywall
amidst
a short
FREEfall

The first time she flew threw a window
she landed  in a burning bush
after
being given a
Push

The first time she flew through a window
She decided she better learn to fly
so she gathered her strength
and waited
until it was time

she never practiced
fearing the sting of her scraped skin
so she snuck around
quietly
and helped hatch the kin

when she was alone
and it was time
She rushed to the window
and opened the blinds

the window was not a window any longer
the old screen laid on a new floor
labored, she thought
"Where is the opening?!"
as her eyes traced the familiar place
she was comforted
and she flew out the newly born door

Fingers raw
Nails
Glazed like spring valleys
Gelled with calm water
Ice covering snow caps
As the jagged peaks cut
Unsuspecting climbers
Still covered in bleeding earth
Dirt under my fingernails

Most of the time I
Drift around in a cold haze
thinking of nothing

You’re in a relationship with yourself
You hold all of the conversations
When you feel inclined to ask a question
You ask it to yourself and answer it
I never have to talk
This is great