asleep
quickly caffeinated and ******
filled with panic
watching  "a day in the life" youtube videos
of a human who is not turning into moss
seeking reassurance
finding it insufficient
distracting with hundreds of 6-second videos
drugging the hippocampus offline
the relief of crossing a day off the calendar
and floating out of consciousness

quarter of a century.
very little accomplished.
but the gentle, the weary, the broken ones
do not turn away when you are near
and that's all you ever really wanted

with a capital H (Him)
no, not a god
but a ruler
a masculine power i see all around me
Him
meaning mean
meaning me. ten.
Him, again.
intruding in my face, in my head.
in my bed.
him, many men.
again, again.
my stomach swims
he spreads.
at 25 cant sleep in bed
without a knife, melatonin, and gabapentin
Him.
hypervigilant
when will he begin again?
I look for Him in friends, in men
underneath anyone could be Him
when anger sprouts
and my lover shouts
or when he teases, or grabs, or doubts
i think he's Him, i've lost again
my  radar lacking adequate detection
i panic, i freeze, i run, i scream
i tell him I know he's hiding Him
he lives within
he promises he's all himself
but my world is shadowed in multiple layers
my lover and Him are both there
overlapped like a map with multiple variables
how can i not fear
how can i not carry this
how can i trust my judgments
how can i distrust my judgments
how can i be sure he's not around the corner
inside my lover
waiting for me to rest
to let go, to drop my shoulders, show my soul
so he can grasp and twist and maul
all with a smile
and a later denial
"it wasn't me, maybe it was Him"

looking in--wood beams lie flat along the ceiling
i look flat when i look at me the way i am not supposed to look at me
like i am perched upon a wood beam on the ceiling
like i am a cameraman, or an evaluator, or a lover
i transform, wax, but moving
remembering the cues, the lines, the x's

looking in-- cushions hunch the arch of my back
i am full and curved and dimensional in disturbing ways
i am perched on the wood but i can hardly continue my gaze
things are puffed and jutting in ways that bring disgust
even words spill out in asynchronous patterns
and i wonder who the **** is guiding this sorry woman.

looking out-- nothing to recount.

my students describe me as gentle.
kind. tender. humane.

my professors describe me as flighty.
fickle. erratic. inconstant.

my dad describes me as selfish.  
inconsiderate. uncaring. money-grubbing.

my mom describes me as wise.
sharp. insightful. far-sighted.

my brother describes me as mysterious.
puzzling. hidden. weird.

my sister describes me as honest.
candid. upfront. sincere.

kind & uncaring.
far-sighted & erratic.
hidden & candid.

my lover describes me as perfect.
sublime. brilliant. unrivaled.

i hesitate to describe me, settle at imperfect.
and sublime. brilliant. unrivaled.

all of the above. none of the above.
aside from all of the above.

imperfect. sublime. brilliant. unrivaled.
flawed. exalted. profound. inimitable.
faulty & ideal.
defective & magic.
me.

it rains
i take adderall and cannot sleep
in pursuit of upkeep of identity

my job is *****
i have worms under my fingernails
so i drug myself to write about diet
and then i wake up to grow food

i wonder how vast your  love is
if i become ugly, fully hog buried
will you truly call me a piece of you?

i have multiple identities
yours, amy's, ukelele's, mary oliver's
i have to move my eyes around to heal
bring it all up and look at it until i am steady

i am trying to decide whether i should give into rejection
not by me, not by you, but by us
the fit is not correct; too expansive, too suffocating

when i came to the warmth i lost my shell
but i gained other markers later
at first tumbling backward
but maybe it was bouncing forward

the leaves change and  i am shushed
in orange i realize all exists outside of evaluation
i must only let the soft animal of my body love what it loves

white burning upper lip
sea blue head
orange and black mumbles in the background
my connection to the green
cannot save me
though it beats against the grey
my couch is tan
with a hole from a knife
frustration displaced
today is more yellow
people looked at me and talked
they kept thinking I was lost
I felt the need to assert my clarity
an elevator opened to teal
and a swarm of T-shirt’s across the spectrum
I walked thru them and wondered
what they thought of me
me being body and behavior
not the me that cries and yells over the phone
closeness is red
closeness is terror and anxiety
in the crowd I control my image
living with you steals this
I don’t want to be seen
but my hair is blue
and my mustache is absent,
components in place to hold their gaze.