curly toes and fingernails twice as thick
with old banana peel dried and crusted
jarred underneath
skin that tastes like plastic
a distraught girl with flowers growing
out of her head
eyes bleeding onto the pavement
but the heart is still beating
am I supposed to make sense
or are you
I said it’s time to go
but the doctor told me I’m fine
so I went to another
maybe five
and they all said the same thing
make sure you’re walking the dog
and that the dog’s not walking you
well maybe I want the dog to drag me
raw across the pavement
just know my hearts still beating

It’s crazy how something that no longer lives has the greatest power to ****.
The greatest power to slice into the skin of the heart and watch you bleed aimlessly over something that no longer exists, at least within this dimension.
Let me find and connect with that whom is still experiencing this movie in my head.
My birth taking place right now.
My first breath of air on this earth, happening again and again, somewhere, ad infinitum.  The most beautiful word—life fractals, I never have to worry about the possibility of an ending.
Is this the world I want to exist in?  There must be a reason why none of us can find this pocket of spacetime in which it does.  Who’s to say that time even exists at all?  Simply because my skin wears and my hair greys means that time moves forward and straight?
What about circles and triangles and rainbows?

If we are all of one consciousness
Then one man’s suffering is my suffering
Another man’s joy is my joy
Fear for fear
Contentment for contentment
So tell me, what are we to feel?
Because i feel them all—
Every single one of them all at once
And it’s for that very reason that I am asking
How:
Tell me, how does one bare the weight of the whole universe
When they’re heart can only beat so fast
And their skin is so limited in its capacity for volume

Maybe that’s why there are so many of us
All the emotions, experiences of the world
Were much to thick, dense, deep for the one consciousness
That is us to carry on her own.

And maybe it is when we’re much too connected to this consciousness
When we feel so deeply over nothing we experience a living death.
And maybe we are much too disconnected
When our hearts fall numb to any feeling at all

Maybe the rain, the wind, the clouds
And lack thereof is our consciousness’s
Beautiful release and expression of her emotion,
And maybe she’s just like us
Where sometimes she can’t help but feel so so much,
Or nothing at all.

A light connects me to you to her to him to the person sitting on the other end of the bus, to that child that just inhaled earth’s air for the first time, to his mother who just labored him into the world, to the ******* the opposite side of the world lying in a field looking up to the same moon and stars as I.

I was suicidal when I was 9.
Open cute little journal
“I hate myself”
Pages 1, 2, 20.

It’s supposed to be hard to care about other people,
Not yourself.

11 when I felt nothing
12 when I asked pain for a visit.
Just one minute of feeling,
Please.

I connect too deeply with my blood.
That’s why we’re best friends.

Or, maybe, I don’t connect deeply enough with her.
With that warm fluid pulsating the individual dance
Of my
And only my
being.

The sky
Will forever
And always,
Be my favorite place.
The sky is no man’s land.
So me and my thoughts,
We live up there.  
We thrive up there.