in a moment close to now
three lives converge on rolling wheels
cascading down the highways
endless miles to the unknown  

in a moment close to now
memories to be recounted and stories told
ideas explored like the trails we grace
discovery and growth intertwined

in a moment close to now
dependent on the nature we are one with
seamlessly in our element
the elements that constitute our beings

in a moment close to now:

an embarking.

suppressed sloshes slurp and squeeze though the gaps
in the oppressive thickness of forced silence.
patchy grass islands emerge eerily still
from the murk and muck of standing water

a land blanketed in purposelessness,
like an old man whose life is all spent in negotiations with time,
who sits in a chair and waits
for death to whisper in his half-deaf ears.

the land sits and waits and knows the inevitability of death.
slurp and slush,
the heavy boots feign stealth

silence amplifies subtle metallic clicks,
small metal masses jostle in a tunnel slung across a back.

the grass leans in to hear
the stifled breaths hiding in suspense,
betraying an inner working of fear.

sift and shush,
the soft brush of camouflage clothing against blistered skin.
there is no coldness in the air but the body shakes,
there is no heat in the air but the body sweats.

the air holds nothing but weight
and the body’s shoulders bend under it.
a weak wind carries whispers to paranoid ears,
and the metal mass meets fire and propels to an end

the air is unbearably thick to be pierced by such a sharp noise

it lays heavy on the crushed tufts of grass
that now hold the bones of a young body
that housed a mind old with terror.
beads of sweat still on a motionless corpse.

We all harbor hurts
Deep twistings and breakings
That gnaw at our insides
Trying to find their voice their life
They crawl from our belly up our throats and knock at the back of our teeth
But we swallow them whole
Push them down the slide of our esophagus
Because we are afraid
And we don’t want to let them speak
Because we know they are such deep
Twistings and breakings
They are the essence of the cracks within us
But when we do not open our toothy door at their knock
They find other ways
They claw at muscles and organs
They pull our bodies to consciously unintended ends
They seep out sideways
So mangled and unintelligible
That we forget their origin
And we don’t understand how our actions
Are based from our deep
Twistings and breakings
Long rejected
Left to fend for themselves in our neglect

i sit in the left corner of the couch
swelling with the joy that permeates our clothes to our skin
conversations spinning webs around us
that glow in the light streaming through the window

this is more than enough
this is everything

the first time: my idealogical house collapsed and
i stepped outside of my consciousness, and i wept as
the tectonic plates under me shifted,
destroying the comfort of my taken-for-granted worldview.
it took me months to tell people
--my family didn't know for months--
some friends still don't
i wonder how many still pray that i will come back to "the faith"
that they say i don't have enough of
because of course its that simple
they didn't feel their foundation collapse as i did
they didn't feel the visceral and inexplainable awareness
that unapologetically obliterated everything i thought i knew
they didn't peer into the endless dark space that was revealed under my foundation
i hold nothing against anyone
i have walked in their shoes and prayed their prayers
i know what its like
i know they mean only the very best for me
and i am thankful for that, truly
so i hold nothing against anyone

The second time was more drawn out and painful.
i delved deeper into the cavernous abyss
that i had stepped to the edge of and peered into last time--
this time i jumped in
and i fell for so helplessly long
--my body was lost in time and space--
before i remembered i had a parachute.
my brother's shoulder and a glass of wine
the perfect parachute to slow my fall
and help me find my feet underneath me.
this time i had questions,
so many questions about what it means to be human
and to be a human in this cavernous abyss

The third time was alone again
sobbing shaking and scribbling words in a journal, i want to
understand what this is.
another fissure opened up beneath my feet and i fall
--still deeper into the earths core --
and as i write i realize
that its not the earth's core at all,
but my own

its my own consciousness i have plunged into
all these times
the dimensions that expand so endlessly
behind my eyes
beckon me into them
and i have
willingly let them lead me deeper into myself

however disrupting and disorienting it is
i know myself better
because i am plunging the depths of my being
an i am more me than i have ever been
and it feels right and it feels true

"when my body was mine"
a line read recently

did i let my body slip out of my own skin
before i noticed
was i so oblivious as it dripped between their fingers
so far from my skin

when i was told i was old enough to need to shave,
my hair wasn't mine anymore.
when my rough and wild behavior
was no longer considered ladylike enough,
and i had to tame my wild skin
to sit and dance in proper ways,
my posture wasn't mine anymore.
when my toes were deemed to callous for society
my innocent beautiful little toes
were strapped into shoes
and forgot their freedom for a time,
my feet were no longer mine.
when they called out at my body
when it possessively dripped between their fingers
i realized that i had let my body belong to other people

and so i let my hair grow thick
everywhere
and i carry myself with the joy i feel
and i sit and dance from the inside out
trying to forget how much i may stand out
vulnerability is strength
vulnerability is strength
i tell myself
as i dance barefoot with hairy underarms
in out-of-style clothes and an unpainted face
come dance, please come dance,
so we may taste the flavor of life together

Do you think he would slow down if I asked nicely?
do you think that if I snapped in his distracted face he would notice?
do you think that if I bumped shoulders with him he would change his course?
do you think if I threw a tantrum at his feet  he would take pity and pause for a moment?
Do you think if I grabbed his face and forced him to look in my eyes he would see how I needed more of him?
that ****** man: Time.

like a typical distracted teen with his earplugs in listening to some irrelevant tune
walking unaware of his movements their repercussions,
walking so fast--propelling the rest of us forward in front of him
through a relentless pace.
He affects everyone and sees no one.
none

the sweetness
of a moment
held
in tension
sandwiched between due-dates and
dead-lines
the allure
of a stolen moment
suspended
in the chaos
a moment of the purest
beauty I've ever witnessed
it is beautiful to be transitory

This body is my palace of water and dust.
It is my earth,
my whole,
my entire empire.
Contained within my skin is a world
of complex systems and relationships
too immaculate to comprehend.

I lay myself bare continually.
Exposed vulnerable and strong, I embrace the wind.
Flexible and malleable, I bend and shift but hold my
center--
somehow my center holds.

I contain every natural phenomenon,
and each of them contain me completely.
I see my reflection in the water and I am the water,
I see the bark on a tree and my skin empathizes,
I smile and my soul takes on the wings of the butterflies
and flirts with the leaping wind.

And you come in and you dump your **** in my rivers,
oil and chemicals polluting my veins.
You mine my depths for the gold and discard the soil,
you exploit my purity.
You ignore my warnings and pleads as if you don't understand my language.
You are the ones who don't believe in climate change,
as if facts were fiction.
You don't believe in your impact on my existence.
You carry on as if i am worthy of nothing but disposal
and exploitation,
as if i am not as intrinsically valuable as you are.

Do you not see yourself in me?
Do you not see your own reflection in the waters of my eyes?
Do you not recognize the similarity in our skin?
Our commonality in the blood that pounds like torrential floods
on the windows of our souls
reminding us that we live?

Do you not see the web of life that binds us
so intrinsically together?
We are as inseparable as inhale and exhale.
We need each other--
we are the same process,
the same breath.

i dreamed i smoked a cigarrette
felt its silky breath glide down my insides
calming and resolving what felt unsettled
as i walked with midnight, my solitary companion,
down a deep blue lit street

can i even describe the purity that silky white substance
introduced at the bottom of my belly
how clean and calm it felt--almost sweet
yet mixed with guilt and fear of addiction
and everything i had been told and knew
it was nothing like i knew a cigarette to be

what was it i dreamed up a cigarette to calm
what is it that stirs in me, unsettled
that i can't seem to resolve
what am i not finding in my waking hours
that i needed to escape to my dreams to resolve,
what in me craves to taste the smoke that
i've never waking let inside my lungs

I am a monumental Woman
my Scalp plunges the sky depths
and my wide Soles caress the clay layered deep
my Palms hum with light ever
expanding ever surpassing my Fingertips
the curve in my Spine sings with the
waves of the ever shifting sea
and I see with the Eyes of every living thing
empathy seeping into my Bloodstream

this Body is my Earth
my Home
my Sanctuary
my Palace of water and dust

I lay Myself bare
I am exposed open and vulnerable
uncovered
yet I bend like trees in the storm
like grass under foot
and I undulate like water over stones
like smoke twisting  
I flicker like flame over fuel
like wind in Your hair

I have chosen to let my Limbs stretch and
soak in the open air
I have chosen to drink of fullness and
taste the richest fruits of life
I do not hide away in forgotten caves or blue corners
I am here in the open
breathing deeply of this golden air

I am not sorry if my boldness upsets or disrupts you,
if You cannot help but notice the depth and breadth of my Life
this is Me and I will not hide that I am a monumental Woman

i've never wanted to swim in the sky more than
when i saw the rainbow
yesterday
i've always craved the northern lights
i forgot we have our very own sometimes

tired. weary.
of having my red flags always ready
of being on alert for every cue
every subtle hint
from any one of you

i've grown scared of small smiles and long glances
even though that's most of what i do
i'm afraid of seeing it back
because i am always afraid of what complications
your attentions would entail

am i expected to curb my fondness
my friendship
my curiosity
my joy
to keep from leading you on

should i protect your feelings
and in doing so push down my own
do i owe it to you not to
really look in your eyes like i love to
or to not laugh too loudly when i find you funny

do i owe you my reservation my restriction
do i owe it to you to domesticate my affections
so i don't hurt you
when i tell you that:
no, i will not go to dinner with you
even though i would love to
if it didn't mean leading you on

or no, i cannot be that for you,
even though i would love to spend time with you alone
if it didn't mean leading you on

because i love you dearly already
and i want to explore every crevice
of your vibrating soul
but purely platonically

no one else seems to think this way
and i am confused
and sad
i'm tired. i'm weary.
of these ever waving red flags.
i hate the color red. it demands so much.

what do you do, closest friends,
when everyone around you breaks?
when their cracks fissure out
and chunks and fragments spill
and spatter the unforgiving ground

what do you do, closest friends,
when you are the sounding board
for each and every cry
when you hold their head in your lap
and you call them the whole way home

what do you do, closest friends,
when there is so much breaking around you,
can to tend your own cracks
can you mend your own terra-cotta
with your own glue like you taught me to?

Let those who's heads and words you've held
relentlessly kindly and honestly,
guide the glue through your spreading cracks
and teach them to mend again

and lets repeat
until we are all beautiful mosaics of breaking
and mending

so i ran tonight
i ******* hate running
i thought about it for 56 minutes
because my stomach churned and shivered
and i couldn't settle it
something about feelings and circumstances colliding
an old familiar feeling i can never seem to shake

and so i tuck my lanyard key in my shirt
cool metal on sternum
key card tucked in front right pocket
of loose jeans
and i walk down the carpet hall and outside
the metal clicks of cool doors
i jog through the arched courtyard
crushed leaves packed down under bare toes
and when i make it to the field
i let loose
and run my breath out of my lungs
my feet forgetting the cold of the fall evening dew
then
relentlessly pattering pavement
as i loop around the square
and race my shifting shadow under street light
back and forth again
and pant

i run the breath out of my lungs a
second
and a

third
time

my pulsing veins overworked and swelling in rhythm
toes are red
ears feel red
blood is still red
as far as i know
and i walk back

i swear i've never felt so light

two sheets of paper--eighteen digits total

the first on blank printers paper
torn in a vaguely state like shape
kentucky maybe
pencil lines describing nine numbers
scrawled
that paper dropped in my lap
as i sat on the floor
crosslegged
drawing in hand
confusion in mind
a sly smile and shuffling feet under baggy jeans
carry the boy away

the second on lined paper
torn by shaking hands from philosophy notes
nine numbers copied with a borrowed pink pen
and a name below.
that paper placed on my desk
with a hasty whispered sentence
a kind of reverse suicide note
a hope at life he wanted to share with me
with someone he thought cared about his epiphany
his oversized sweatshirt and damp eyes
follow his flashing soul out of the classroom

a silver cigarette
half smoked
lying shimmering ghostlike
on the sandy concrete steps
in an otherwise dull world

a styrofoam cup
partially disfigured
tumbling noisily
over the abandoned bridge
in an otherwise silent world

a body of rushing liquid
entirely hidden
babbling of its depth
deep in the underground sewer system
in an otherwise shallow world


the things you walk past at 3:07 am
when the transit system is closed
and there is no parking on campus
so you walk
bare feet and mala beads
and you realize
you aren't cold or afraid
despite temperature or statistics:
******* numbers

it took me a long time
to realize
that when we locked eyes--
all those times when i looked at you
and i thought you saw my soul behind my glassy eyes,
you were looking at yourself in the reflection--
my eyes a mere looking glass for your ego

the blues and greens in my eyes reduced
to a mirror of pride

i know we are a species of validation
that we look for other's perceptions of ourselves
and we define our self concept accordingly

but you
i don't think you ever saw me in the process
i was only ever an instrument
for you to play your out-of-tune music on

theres a woman
at least i think a woman
who shuffles feet close to the floor
one boot crunched
her heel isn't where it should be in her shoe
but she doesn't seem to notice or care
horizontal striped shirt and loose blue jeans
spiked blond hair
her eyes sag opposite her hair
exaggerating the effect

theres a man in a wheelchair
i've never seen thinner shins under thick body
he looks smaller than he is
perhaps an optical illusion
he has glasses thin framed and his belly a perfect sphere
mounted on his lap.
he calls to the attendant
all he needs is to be pushed out to the parking lot
his ride is here but he can't move his own body

there's an old woman named patty
she leans on a pink and purple cane
the pattern rubbed down to the metal where
her hand always clutches the curve
she has high blood sugar
she didnt want to come
but the attendants at the nursing home made her
and she had just been bragging about how long it had been
since her last ER visit.
She had to call her son roland to drive her here

theres a son named roland
we made eye contact as soon as he came in and he is kind
he holds eye contact in that way that people do when
they feel responsible for a situation
and need to connect with another human.
he got his mother water with ice,
and she said she didnt need ice-
-like it was a luxury, not an inconvenience

There was a woman crying
i think her loved one was burned somehow
2nd degree, did i hear? on the face?
her family comes and she cries and hugs
and her father tries to tell her she should go home
she's not going home
theres no way that woman is going home
she calls people and coordinates with family and friends
and you can feel the panic radiating from her

there are two teen girls who sit in the low chairs
i've never seen two people look more tired or
drained
eyes red and heavy
sweat pants and socks in sandals
messy ponytail and bun
and they don't speak to each other
they just sit
and stare at the ground
seemingly endlessly.



i bet they are all still there except the man with the spherical belly and the thin shins.
i suppose none of us make it out of this life alive
its just that sometimes i forget
how many talk with death before they meet him
sometimes i forget how their families weep
for that conversation
i forget that emergency rooms even exist.

every once in a while
i ache

i ache to know

to know another feeling
that fills the same space

the same space this ache
currently fills so completely
so deeply it seeps into my crevices

my crevices left empty
from lack of experience

of experience so foreign

so foreign that i ache
just once in a while

theres a dangerous time of night
when productivity is essential
but the clock at the corner of my computer screen stops
meaning anything
the numbers are fascinating as they float by changing
almost beautiful
the tyme what is tyme
is it time or tyme what makes it mean anything
and so existential crisis's happen at 11:46 and then again at 2:53  
those numbers are beautiful in a cruel sort of way
they creep up on you and lie, saying
everything is fine as they slip through your still fingertips
hovering over the keyboard for so long now empty
digital pages taunt fingertips
but the numbers are pretty again
3:01
****

i fall in love with people all the time
a laugh here
a pleasant face there
the innocence of a moment caught in a glance
a moment and a half of eye contact and i fall in love with people
all the time
i see their curiosity as they wonder
why i see them
why i take the time to see them
the energy
and its because loving is my lifeblood
and it pulses within me
its the loving that sustains me
that wakes me up and gives me restful sleep
that moves my bare feet across the earth and
runs my eyes deep into the forests we wander together
because it's the loving that constitutes my bones
that holds me up that gives me form
its the loving that moves the muscles that tug upward at the corners of my mouth
its the loving that blows bubbles in my lungs that escape as laughter
its the loving that brings tears when they are raw and needed too

i fall in love with people all the time

she told me to get weirder<
! don,t know
how to
weird
weirdin abstractin
! don,t know how to weird
how do ! take a good decision and
flip it--pilf ti
how can ! make something weird and still
important
am ! important
is meye decision im port ant
or
is it all just meaning
less

2007 misty grey prius
roommate in the front
new friend in the back
soft and kind music fills the spaces
between our skin
my right hand on the wheel
my left out the window
feeling the wind
that weaves
running through us
and binding us together
his face lit by street lights soft
his chin on the window sill
watching the town drift by
her eyes closed gentle smile
plays on her lips
as she soaks in the moon's rays
the laughter of the day still echoing
in our minds as we drive
home

the sirens sound angrier here
they lash him from sleep with abrupt interruption
the blinds are broken and
stories spilled out like leaking light long ago
and now the blue lights flood in violent disparate array
fragmented through broken blinds
or maybe its just paranoia
but the sirens sound angrier here.

"missing" hangs
              like lose fabric
                        on my skin
that I feel hollow beneath

"it" covers me, yet
              leaves me feeling
        exposed
aware of a vacancy

when you feel an ache
the ache of missing
theres a shovel
carving out a shape in you
and you feel the friction
as a part of you is displaced
disjointed
unwholed
holed
holy reverence for an ancient feeling
how long in our history have we missed
have we ached
this common thread in our diverging paths
knitting together humanity
the fabric of missing

there’s a sycamore in the morning light
one side is all pale yellow white
the opposite fades from slate blue
to envy green
roots to tip a perfect gradient
blue to green as the reflections shift
from sky to leaves
and the leaves
the leaves are caught up in it all

so willing to spill
their truths
their unreciprocated stories soar
echoing aimless into the
empty air

The world tips
Tilts
Then unwinds

I gaze
But recognize nothing

Wading impenetrable waters of
Inkless impressions

We watched moments float by like snowy cotton in the spring
Quietly passing sweetly sifting through the winds of time to settle on the floors of our souls
On that soul floor we began to ***** structures--
Buildings of belief and behavior and style and security
Only to watch them shake then tumble
from hurricanes and tsunamis of life and circumstance
I think many of us struggled alone for a while against the weather of time,
afraid to expose how little we knew


But Eventually we began to speak to one another
We began to poke little timid invitations to conversations and relationships
and we began to discover
That everyone's structures were tumbling in different ways

We came to know each other
in the shared vulnerability of the unknown

Those were the days when
instead of tirelessly piling on bricks we knew would fall
We gathered around a bonfire on that lovely soul floor
and we found community and connection
And we left what was heavy behind

Grounded in our view of the fiery stars above us
and the coolness of the earth below
We danced together through uncontrollable laughter
And we let our eyes drift out of focus
to see the beauty in the shape of things
As night drew on we huddled close against the fear and cold
of the coming season unknown
And then at dawn we watched the sun rise with meditative minds
And when it rained we donned bare feet
and splashed the puddles
and then we tangled our fingertips in the rainbows and
Tasted the droplets on our tongues and sleeves

Through this time we learned to question the very ground beneath our feet
And the air in which we breath
We began to learn how to surrender the moments
to the ever shifting winds of time
We asked hard questions
Ones we didn't know the answers to
And still don't
And maybe never will

These are more than experiences and memories
They are our identity now
They watered the soul ground on which
Instead of building structures again we began to plant gardens

I go into this next season with my soul garden
in which each of you planted a seed
Thank you. endlessly.

I yearn to exist in a space where the stars all but blaze
Where “stars” aren’t celebrities their plaster faces plastered
on magazine covers lining the shopping aisles
But where they bask in the night sky unpolluted
And exist radiantly

Where the culture ceases to revolve around
the newest latest fashion or video
And instead revolves around the ripening of figs
And the blooming of chrysanthemums
And the migrations of the swallows
Where we look like awestruck children
to those unpolluted stars above us
and this great earth around us
to tell the time and pass the seasons,
Living then in harmony with the revolution of the very soil and air
from which our life flows
It’s easy to forget

I crave an environment
that does not depend upon phone screens
Where my peers and myself do not walk through life
in an addicted daze
Unaware of the haze that descends as an effect
of such technological dependence
We are walking around with our eyes unconsciously searching
for the stimulus that society constantly feeds us
We are tripping over ourselves just trying to keep up
These electronic signals flashing upon thin panels of glass
And This is what we call Living

The dopamine flooding our brains
when that text vibration brings our popularity to attention
Capturing our attention holding it captive
We are prisoners of our own purchases
Stepping into voluntary chains
Producing our wrists for shackles
Rusting our humanity away enchained
in a web of unsocial media and notifications
We neglect to make space for our own existence
Disconnecting from our own physical experience
We don't even feel our fingers typing and swiping
Hoarding gluttonous over likes and comments and click bait headlines
Consumed by our own consummation  
We never have any silence

I yearn to exist in a space where our eyes like stars all but blaze
Awake with acute awareness of the present moment
Where we break shackles and push comfort zones
Basking in the raw beauty of an exuberant life we are conscious to experience
I yearn to exist together as radiant as the stars in the vastest galaxy

I want to believe
Maybe
Can I persuade you
Perhaps
Someday

a better blue Sky will hold our love

This inconsistency that rumbles
Churning within the recesses of my ribs
I down a pill of self pity with a swig of pride
And tell the pain to go away
Tell myself it was never there
That I'm fine I'm good smooth it over
Put a baggy shirt on so you can't see
The holes behind the recesses of my ribs

Loving you is easy in theory
And most of the time in reality too
But sometimes when you ask me to do that little task or tell you that little thing
Something within me threatens to snap
Because I perceive that you see the satisfaction of your need to be more important than my current occupation
And I feel unseen
Even though I know you see me best
And I feel victimized even though I know your request is perfectly reasonable

And so the contradiction of awareness
When I see the inconsistency in me blaring crimson red and midnight blue
And I don't know what to do with these colors
I don't know what image to paint or what brush to use
I don't even know who I'd give the painting to
Or if I'd keep it for myself

I yearn to exist in a space where the stars all but blaze
Where stars aren't celebrities
Where they bask in the night sky unpolluted
And just exist
I crave truly being in an environment that does not depend upon phone screens
Where my peers and myself do not walk through life in an addicted daze
Unaware of the haze that descends as an effect of such technological dependence
We are walking around with our eyes unconsciously searching for the stimulus that society constantly feeds us
These electronic signals flashing upon thin panels of glass
And This is what we call Living
The dopamine flooding our brain when that text vibration brings our popularity to attention
Capturing our attention holding it captive
We are prisoners of our own purchases
Rusting our humanity away enchained
In a web of unsocial media and notifications
We never have any silence

When was the last time you just sat silent doing nothing

When was the last time you allowed your mind even a sliver of space to just exist

I sometimes write
Of stories and fantasies
And these words spill from my fingers
Frighteningly effortlessly as they tell
Of passionate romances and crushing heart shatters and death of innocence
But I've never felt these things and
I feel fraudulent and cruel
Claiming feelings to which I have no right
And I wonder where these words come from that
Spill so easily from my finger tips
Because they aren't from experience
And they aren't true
Rereading them only embarrasses and confuses me
So should I validate them at all?
Mom peers at me worriedly as I try to convince her that I only used first person for form purposes
As I try to prove to her that this was (some bizarre) imagination and not some reality she wasn't aware of

I don't know how a kiss would feel on my lips.
Love and infatuation are strangers to my heart and mind.
I don't know how it hurts to be truly rejected or hated by someone I love.
To be so enraptured in someone else that the lines between us fade: a foreign and unfamiliar concept to my soul.
I don't know how hard it is to make mistakes in romances.
I've never come home giddy and unable to stop smiling because of a boy.
I don't know.
There's so very much I do not know.
And the absence of that knowledge feels like an object I don't have a place for inside my home of a mind.
Awkward and in the way and too obvious
But I don't know if I want to get rid of it yet.
It's oddity has become a part of me,
And it's absence would mean grieving a change
I'm not prepared for.

I broke last night
Last night the tears cascaded down the worn wet tracks from my eyes down the valleys of my face to my tucked chin
My body convulsed and shook
And my breath could not find itself
It heaved and hoved and sputtered and shattered
And it could not find itself
My mind pulled away from its head and stretched and snapped in pain
I decided not to care that I felt drips pour from my nostrils over my shaking lips
I stared into the black abyss of grain and spattering absence of closed eyes and clenched lids
My fingers ran miles through my strained strips of hair curled and knotted around my hands
I was a very small ball of angry sadness in a very large world of conflicting beauty and pain and love and ignorance. And I broke to feel it all.

These arches have spanned the country
The architecture of my bare feet has adorned the city streets
And spanned the rushing rivers.
These arches have framed national monuments  
And soared over blanket clouded skies
These arches have leapt and danced and ached and blistered
These arches have traveled well and far
And yet have farther still to go

I pressed my ear against the chest of the world
And felt it's life today
The slow, drowsy beginning of a late sunrise
Creeping seeping over dewy hills
A patient inhale
The tight suspension in the air as the sky grew black and grey
The explosive exhale as the winds blew thick and heavy and sheets of rain whipped the trees
Then the peace after
Between breaths the exhausted calm
The air was spent
The emotions felt
And the sun began to set
Like tired eyes closing
The layer clouds adorned it's decent
In radiant and floating colors
I felt the breath of the world today

She throws punches with words
He dodges but they land anyway
Sinking knuckles into his mouth and gut

With glances and sighs
He flips out pocket knives
And with a sharp tongue he slits her ears and eyes

Slashing empathy and demeaning humanity
They belittle each other and lose
The commonality they once enjoyed together

I watch as they open up wounds long infected
And attempt to stitch the gaping holes in their skin
But their hands are still shaking with emotion
And the wound still festers under sloppy thread

They need a doctor I know I can't be
But I feel each punch and slice
Reverberating through my core
They need a doctor I know I can't be

You hand me a Piece of dotted paper and a pen
And you tell me
To connect the little black dots
But as I look at the paper it expands
It grows and stretches till it is an ocean
Massive expansive and the dots drift farther apart on the waves
And I lose them among the ocean spray
So when you hand me the paper and a pen
And expect me to connect the dots
Sometimes I'm being tossed in a storm
And sometimes connectivity is not a possibility
Sometimes I can't do what you ask me to
Because to me the dots are an ocean apart
And I've no clue how to sail.

He said he's the prince of apathy
He claims he's the devils advocate
He hides behind his jokes and innuendos
But I see the way he sees things
The way his mind spirals in tie dye patterns
And how his mouth can't keep up

But he loves
Somehow he loves
He loves the way things work and they way they come to be
He loves the little tidbits of knowledge
He teaches well and when he cares about something you can hear the change in his voice
A change in his tone

And he hides behind his apathy and crude jokes
But there's something living in him
There's a side that's different
A side that's true

The three of us stood
In drizzling rain
With pouring minds

We tore our sleeves
And unraveled our thread
And felt each others fabric

And I didn't know his was purple, I could've sworn it looked green
And I didn't know his was red, I could've sworn it was blue

But we saw the colors of each others sleeves that night
In the tangled thread that spilled from our wrists
The shells shattered and the walls toppled

Because there was fear masked in immaturity
And there was kindness masked in teases
But we saw each others colors that night

He was against the grain
he faced head on what everyone else was scared to see
He embraced and smiled over
Violence explosions and everything grotesque
He filled the gaps between our comfort
He came to embody the uncomfortable
The ugly and sharp the harsh
And just like that classmates shied away
And just like that we assigned him
Traits he maybe deserved and we wrote him off
We wrote him off
Goddamit we wrote him off the script
Because he was uncomfortable
He made us uncomfortable because he loved
He embraces the things we were told not to
He sought the things and experiences in life
We had taught ourselves to fear
We wrote him off the script because he was
An easy character to scratch
It made everyone feel more cozy
Knowing he wouldn't come that day
Because we want to distance ourselves from such
Disarray and destruction
We want to believe that that can't touch us
But the play won't feel right without him there
I'm telling you the story is flat without him
Because we need him.
Write him back in the ****** script
I swear I'm finally writing him in
I will not distance him anymore
I will not shy away
Because we are in the same script, goddamit,
And I'm about to enjoy this play.

We've got fire on our tongues
But we're suffocating
Suffocating cause we can't speak

Words turn to ashes in our mouths
And their dust exhales in our breath

There's no sound
To voice these thoughts
So they echo in our minds
Tumbling circling in our heads

And we are lost inside ourselves.

Relentless pounding
Ceaseless pressure
Crest deep heave shove
Collapse spread recede
Repeat
Gather grow peak collapse spread recede repeat
Constant irregular weighty dive
Tumble harshly continue fall

We smelled of the cheap heat
That blasted through the 1997 Volvo
To defrost our delusional minds
And our hands swept through
the passing wind
With elegance and vitality
Akin to living truly
And the music fluttered through air
And the lyrics came to rest
Settling like leaves in the end of autumn
On the grassy floor of our innocent minds

The air hums with static
Electric and sharp
Palpable in between our
Magnetic laughs

You are everything I crave  
But you won't even meet my gaze
Your eyes are filled blue with fear
I see it glisten in the corners of your eyes when you don't think I see you
You're so afraid of letting yourself be seen
You recede into your blue nature
And I'm desperate to pry you away
from your safety net of seclusion
But I'm frightened that you'd crumble into dust without such security
So That will be the way that we remain
Me, in velvet love with the idea of you
And you, too consumed in fear
to cure my disillusion.

We walked through Tennessee snow
In cheap shoes and
Paper socks
We skipped down the slush path
With coffee mud and silver pebbles
Swinging our held hands
between the three of us
We saw life differently that day
The simplest things had a golden sheen
A mysterious bliss
A gentle joy
A cappuccino a latte and a hot chocolate
Ordered and drank in cozy contentment
And we talked in the freezing parking lot
But the longer we conversed
The warmer I felt
Our conversations warming my soul
And we got into our cars with freezing toes and full hearts
And drove away with images of each other
Echoing behind our eyes.