I often forget moments
and people
and things
the problem is
I never forget feelings
I'm left with them
octo-tangled
untethered
to memory.

Destroy your body
after you realize
you can't destroy your soul.
You will always be aware of your body, now.
This is a new world,
you've entered a new layer of yourself,
quite literally.
Remember to walk carefully
or you'll be bursting at the seams.
Keep that look out of your eyes
should someone be able to see through,
or worse: sympathize.
See the ones who know the feeling
must be avoided.
They are fragile, like you.
You would surely destroy them.
And, darling,
nobody wants sweep up
two broken people.

It's the little things in life that matter.
Little things.
Like a little shard of an excruciating moment
that has the power to burrow under your skin.
A little, shallow sigh you weren't meant to hear.
A small group of bright people
laughing,
but you are not laughing.

“It's the little things!”
Little 'things'
that crawl down your throat at night
and make a heavy home in your stomach.
The little things
that will always find you.
The little things
that seem to soak through every pore.
And you will find yourself
scratching and clawing
and trying to laugh along,
Because life is all about
the little things.

I accept a all the lies I've told
and the consequences
that are sure to follow me.
I will not, do not, feel sorry for them.
They have grown into my body
instrinsic to my spirit
that I refuse to let anyone see.
I will not detach the black holes
from my body.
I will not let them die.

I'd at least like to lurk in your subconscious mind
if I my hands can't wander
through your forest of hair
or your smooth sands of skin.

At least, I'd like to sit in the smallest
chamber of your heart
giddily pulling the strings
if I can't dive in to a chocolatey iris
or curl up in your fleshy twigs.

I'd like, at least, for you to wonder
if I've melted into someone else's body
wonder if I've touched someone
who made me feel like a bit more
human than you could.

Because I sit and wonder often
about the past form of you and I,
I would die upon any indication
that you do not.

I'd like to lose myself
in something like you.
l'd like to get out of here
and forget to wonder
where I might be.

I'd like to lose myself,
only you can't lose what you never had.
I never expected much of myself,
but, in vain, I did expect something.

i wrote you a page or two
of poetry and prose
that I hope you never
have to see.
the sun came out today
and blew my cover
what's to blame for my mood, now?
the cloudless sky
leaves nothing in question