We will wear new bones again
and even now
with no window to wake me
and the heat that sticks to your spine
I am happy
maybe the happiest I've been
and I still don't have those things
that I once thought I needed
every day
I lose something more
and weight releases
from the crevices of my new bones

On the horizon
my eyes rest on a red ruby
in the distance
my sister stole it from me
but these things dont matter
it was plastic anyways
I'm crouching down low
my shins and feet touch the earth
I want to be close to the jar
there is something inside
trying to get out

I bite into the nectarine from across the street
and as I walk back
I run into you with no warning
and your hug is soft
we talk about how the weather
is the same as a year ago today
and even though you didn't ask
I find myself telling you how nectarines are in season
and the stains on my fingers
remind me of the way you paint

I met a libra once
and their path was a case of entropy
the plants that grow through their feet
are a case of sacred geometry
I know that our bridges have taken months to construct
and should be walked over carefully
So I bring my palms together
only to open them more gently

March and I was walking slowly
in between walls of decay
looking down at my hands I saw movement
the same as the decomposition of the displaced
organic material
had never felt so similar
to the crevices of skin on our
knees and elbows
I just wanted to be closer to her
to feel her warmth
there is a light that's not the moon
and as I circle my path
I find it in reflections that glow

I'm jumping the turntable
pitching a cigarette sleeve
but my new lover doesn't smoke
he's  also from a boring town
but now I'm stuck in mine
no car no driving snowed inside my small den
Tuesday or maybe Wednesday
it doesn't matter
it never did
I'm still here in this little hole
running through loops flipping through photographs
I have been studying herbal and holistic remedies
but everything has a thick layer of white over it
the roots are too many layers deep
not a shovel nor your bare hands would work
its the coldest time of year
we are foreign to this place
and are too adapted to realize it

calling a name
unknown to many
and unknown to me
one day they will know
what drives an artist to the sea
what makes you walk forwards
what makes him walk back

my fingers want
things that are not in reach
a flower to hold
when the bathroom tile gets cold
home, or something close to that
rich in oranges
rubies from Berlin

I like how you are a Sapien enthusiast
I was also told that we could have had much more

I am sitting in a place
far away but close to the source
I am wrapped in a palm leaf
creating wings
choosing breath over time

I am walking away from your creation
and running towards my own
I have the plants to thank
they revive us all

Inside of a lightbox
reaching for a pen
not a cigarette
it's a clear quartz
cream lighter
and the smell of chai
you have lost the weight of thread
that once used to wrap around your arms
a beautiful coincidence
for intuition to settle
dancing through glowing waves
stranger in the new light

a mind map will only make sense
to a certain part of your spiritual being
I want to love you this summer
like I do
these fragments of thoughts