I've never felt quite so clean as when I woke up at dawn with bugs and sweat all over me after not showering for three days and I took a bath in a waterfall. I've never felt quite so clean as when the dust filled my eyes as I spun the loves of my life in circles. I've never felt quite so clean as when I kicked my shoes off and walked through the mud. I've never felt quite so clean as when I brushed my teeth in a room full of mold, body hair, and strange fluids. I've never felt quite so clean as when the smell of mildew seemed permanently embedded in my nostrils. I've never felt quite so clean as when I chose to sit in the ice cold and I wasn't sure I could do it but my friends, my friends, the truest friends I've ever had, knew my favorite song and they knew I needed help so they sang it I smiled and opened my eyes to a halo of light and darkness and love and isolation. I've never felt quite so clean as when my throat was raw from shouting and my skin was covered in charcoal and ash and the sweat dripped down my back as I was surrounded by pumping fists and bodies and spit from screams and I knew I was a leader then, I knew I belonged then. I've never felt quite so clean as when I stared up at the Milky Way, completely naked in the middle of the forest on a dirt road, walking next to a girl whose soul I dirtied and she looked at me and I knew I was forgiven and she sang to me a song that she shouldn't have. I've never felt quite so clean as when two of the dirtiest people that have ever existed, in two completely different ways, pulled together in the only light that shone through the cool new darkness of that night, while the whole of our worlds watched and we danced, we danced and they all laughed because they could see, and it wasn't what or who we were supposed to be, but in that moment it was the most clean that I have ever felt.

there's a cliff in front of me
and I'm about to step off-
wait.
isn't that... isn't that the cliff, behind me?
where am I?

I have a formula, a quantum machination that activates
when all variables are present
the numbers link together and click into place
falling, rolling, gears and chains
turning the clock back and forward,
always in the same pattern- all the constants are accounted for
my x and y are solved, what I needed was a vertex-
I found it,
and so it begins again, dust brushing off this old grandfather
as he creaks back into his duty, his slave labor compulsion
that brings forth nothing in him, nothing but love
it is time for him to awaken once again.

"Don't overthink it. Accept it. It is a gift."
and thank you, God.

Fear is dark but my love is a lantern,
shining up like coins in a fountain.
Hope is a tree sitting on a mountain where the grass don’t grow.
There’s a sad old sea but my love is an island,
wild and free like the hills in the highlands.
Hope is a breeze that brings me back to dry land
where the flowers grow.

'cause you let it go, now you're good to go.

But I'm open, you're closed
Where I follow, you'll go
I worry I won't see your face
Light up again

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find, you and I collide

I'm quiet, you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know
I'm always on your mind

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find, you and I collide

Come away with me in the night
Come away with me
And I will write you a song

Come away with me on a bus
Come away where they can't tempt us
With their lies

I want to walk with you
On a cloudy day
In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high
So won't you try to come

Come away with me and we'll kiss
On a mountaintop
Come away with me
And I'll never stop loving you

And I want to wake up with the rain
Falling on a tin roof
While I'm safe there in your arms
So all I ask is for you
To come away with me in the night
Come away with me

what's best is that we've all been on that bathroom floor
the whole world, the whole world, has open and closed doors.

I always point you out, don't I? I have a story to tell
about two star-crossed brothers. One was born
mortal, the other a god- they found their home
in each other. The mortal one died, went to hell-
and the god cried out in agony, and, Olympus watching, fell.

I know where you are, I think, but I change my story every time
I'm not sure where you lie, I know that you carve an arc
to Arcturus, the fourth-brightest light in the sky
and to me, I guess, it doesn't matter if that's the star
at which I'm pointing- what matters is that it's there
and for all I care, what matters is what people on Earth
think of me and your muttered glow shining down upon my hair.

I want you to be all mine, I want no one else to see you
but I know that your nobility was passed through generations
that you are revered for being small and righteous and beautiful
that you represent the Word, spoken, the source of all creation
and you are not mine- you aren't even in my hemisphere. I know that
you mean more to people thousands of miles away than to me
but it doesn't change that I cling to you as though you were mine
if only you were mine- I just want something, anything,
to belong to me. I'm tired of having things ripped away,
related to, agreed with. *******. I don't belong to you. Don't take this too.

when you reappear in the sky, my soul is regrown
shoot an arrow straight to my heart, many nights
spent under the stars in this moonlit purple dome
steam runs off our skin, while the heat waves rise
running together in this exhilarating light, over the stones
that cut our feet. I don't miss home. (Who would have known?)
We do not stand alone.

You were the first thing I learned. When I see you
I am reminded that some things I will always know
that the sky spins around and when I doubt anything is true
there you are- standing and waiting alone.
I believe in love. Don't you? I have seen in the stars
that some things will stay forever and some truths
will remain past all our broken pieces and silly scars
that some things don't need proof for us to believe them.
I believe in love, in the giving tree that always bends
down her limbs for the boy, trusting him
with not only her heart, but her leaves and branches
until the last page, the very end. She gives all she can.
I know this. I know it's true. I believe in love. Don't you?

I could watch the gears turn in his head,
obsessive, you read that book twenty times
you tell me about all your sisters even though its pointless
you tell me how you think, searching for help
obsessively searching for help? a presence,
lots of friends who care, must be a leader role,
tired of being independent, wishes to be dependent
scared of dependence? childhood dependence
wants to grow into adulthood- so looking for equal partnerhood?
hates invalidation, that accords with equality,
wants equal standing but love and help.

“Alone of all creeds, Christianity has added courage to the virtues of the Creator. For the only courage worth calling courage must necessarily mean that the soul passes a breaking point and does not break."

I wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall
I wanna be the only one, for miles and miles
except for maybe you and your simple smile
oh it sounds good to me, yes it sounds so good to me.

I am cracking, splintering
because of you
my screen shines bright but glints through broken shards
as I tumble down the stairs,
lost, confused,
but laughing the whole time.

I am a criminal
someone who should never be allowed to touch another person
maybe the cross is not made of material you can recognize
but it is cross-wood, heavy, cedar, oozing on my garments
walking slowly uphill with no Simon to assist
and it's better that way.

"The reality, I realize, is that I am not the only member unworthy of Cross and Canoe. None of us are worthy. Cross and Canoe is an impossible standard. I live and work among amazing people in the summer, but not a one of us is perfect. I see their flaws as well as their great virtues.

The paint, the disguise, if you will, is an outward sign that we march as symbols of an ideal, not as that ideal ourselves. We represent something that our bare skin and usual attire, our true selves, are not worthy of. For the brief duration of the fire, we will symbolize something that we are not. Something that we can only aspire to."

"Is that a purity ring?"
"No..."
It's not a purity ring.
It's a wedding ring.

I have not yet found a soul that could settle next to mine
without cutting into it; that just fit, perfectly
without wounding, I have not found a person that
could come close without diving into me, we all
slice ourselves up for each other and bleed into each other's wounds
and maybe that's not because I haven't found the right person
maybe it's because we're all the right person, we're not meant to be
with one or the other, a perfect yin to my yang,
we make ourselves meant to be, we mutilate and we morph
into each other and for each other's perfection
that they may know the face of God
and everything's ****** up, I know that, I can't fix what's ****** up
but maybe we don't need to fix what's ****** up
because we're all ****** up and that's what makes us human
that's what makes us beautiful, that's how we can see God
because Jesus, though he was in the form of God
did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped
but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, and being
found in human form he humbled himself and
became obedient unto death, even death on a cross-
maybe we're meant to have wounds in our hands
and on our feet, and across our sides, and slashed down our backs
maybe we're just a combination of different people,
we crucify ourselves for those around us,
we are who we are, and then we are not,
and it is all too raw and stinging and sometimes you are ashamed
to look upon someone who died for you, it's too powerful
and you can't make yourself do that, but they did
Jesus did, and it is in this that we are most divine
it is in rawness and confusion and shame and passion
when things are too complicated and it hurts to even move
when you feel your body and soul straining and you don't know what to do
that's when you feel Christ, that's when his heart beats inside you.

The cold hard edge of the earth, atop the mantle
shows one face with one pair of eyes- simply
a layer of rock. Who are you to forget the oceans
and the green grass and the mountains?
Who am I to hide them? Yet we do not have to search far
for the depth and beauty of creation. It is near
so near, in fact, that we are blind- we do not care!
Or rather, the vast expanse is something we cannot bear.

sleeping alone hurts a lot more
when you have actually felt
the warmth of someone else for weeks on end
all these teenagers complain about not cuddling
when their cuddling is awkward and strange, hard to fall asleep to
but when I was in my friend's arms
(and legs, and face, and hands, and feet)
it was like the world was okay again
and the two of us together were dry and warm, right there
taking a break from reality
the cold could not touch us.

if someone has faults, it's impossible to be angry at them
once you realize those faults stem from brokenness
and that it's not a whole person yelling at you
or manipulating someone, it's not a whole person that
forgot you or stopped loving you, it's not a whole person
that looks past you or laughs behind your back, it's not a whole
person that is proud or sarcastic or spiteful or unreasonable, it's not a
whole person that abandons someone they once loved, it's not
a whole person that can hardly feel love at all and doesn't know why, it's
not a whole person that steps on the hurting and the downtrodden,
it's not a whole person that is apathetic and bitter and lost.
it's a broken person, someone who needs healing. They aren't
complete in themselves and choosing evil anyway, from a developed place.
They are broken, they are beaten down, there are chasms in their soul,
addictions and sadness and pieces left for dead. They are not choosing
of their own perfectly free will, because they are enslaved,
enchained by their own fear. It's not their fault. They are broken.
Forgive them, heal them, love them. A whole person, once healed
is a truly free person. And then, only then, will we know who they
(these people we once ****** in our hearts) really are.

it will be like being a vegetarian-
"Forever?" is a harder question than "Can I have the meal but without the meat?"
"Will I never have bacon?" is daunting and will tempt me to give in,
but day by day, a life without bacon isn't that different.
But, dear Lord, give me the strength to embrace forever as well as today.

clear blue fabric lines the streets
before my eyes, it is punched through
and then repaired, by warm-colored fingers
of people, standing there, afraid to linger
but their eyes pierce the veil of silence.
I've turned my music down and taken
off my sunglasses to listen to the smell
of light, it's gnarled and frosty and soothing
breezing and ruffling, something a bit too tough
an athlete of a wind, not concerned with me
approaching a higher goal, playing rough
through my hair, content to let it be
but not- at the same time. We
change the world we live in, regardless
of intentions. Flow through my vents
or my windows, I don't care, I
will still breathe you in and inhale your scent
even though I try to drive so far as to leave you behind
the seasons pass, grow, and fade away
I forget the worlds in which we used to play
something in the careless whisper, I can hear the ocean
in your heartbeat. It's a word that you say.
It's you, shaking your hair down, in one particular way.
And it's me, driving and forgetting and learning to give you away.
Day by day. Day by day.

imagine pastel colors, a warm breeze, and sand in between your toes
as you run down the street shouting, light hair ******* and your skin is hot
imagine eating with people you know love you at a table outside and then sleeping
in the sun, and the grass, and night feeling like an extension of day
with no time to worry and a rusty truck and people you've just met
laying on hot concrete and then leaving, driving very far away
and you're very dry and very damp and very hot and very cold
and the wind pulls its fingers through your salted hair
and you can scream to the world, though not in pain.

Everybody wants to roll with the cool times and say
yes when everybody wants yes and
no when everybody wants no but
when it comes down to it, none of that ever made
a real person, none of that ever taught somebody
how to love somebody else. And I think you'll find
in the end, when you don't know who wants yes or no
and when asked what those mean, you don't know
I'll still be here. Saying yes. Saying no. Telling the truth.
In the end, I know how to love. And I love you.

have they finally caught up?

God, take me back,
and use me as you will-
I cannot handle this alone
I cannot live my life alone or shoulder this burden
I cannot fix myself, nor ask anyone else to
so please, please, I give my life to you...
take me back.

it is strange that so many people
so many beloved, beautiful people
want to die- while my cheap, overblown soul
is trying to cling onto this life with everything it has-
I am slipping, falling, my fingers dancing and succumbing
to the test of time- but there are those who are willing to let go,
and trust whatever it is that is underneath
maybe it is because God wants the beautiful ones
and I'm terrified of what He'll do to a person like me.

being demisexual is like
a soulmate alternate universe
in which my heart connects with just one person at a time
and their name is branded on my skin
and my lips only desire theirs
and nothing matters except them
it is like I can't make myself love anyone else
and I can't look away, I feel like I'm drowning
there is no other device that can keep me afloat because once I'm stuck,
I'm stuck- I cannot keep my obsession at bay
there's nothing I can do about this- my hyper-intelligent mind
gets caught on an idea and repeats and repeats and repeats
and that is all there is-
it is like a cute little alternate universe where true love stays forever
except, well, it's this universe
and more often than not, they don't love me back.

the goal of love is to make every person you come into contact with
feel as though they are the most important one in your life
there can be nothing else.

Am I destined for loneliness?
Even my cats won't let me pet them.
I am ******, forever, won't get a kiss
My calling by God will love condemn.
I see you and know that no matter what
I do, I can't make you love me,
a strange painful curse, my soul will be cut
and I might be bound, but I am free.

everybody's watching a game of chess
and I think I am staring at the board
focusing hard enough that I can make the pieces move
but not really, and I'd like to pretend everybody's watching
I'd like to put it on live television, I'd like an arena
but it's just me, and there is no opponent,
and there aren't even any pieces, and I think
I should stand up and go home, and not feel sorry for myself
the air outside the arena is cleaner anyway-
the trees greener- because outside, I mean nothing
and because of that, I am free to be everything.

I always write about destroying whoever it is that I love
I want them to burn to the ground and never be able to recover,
launch into the sky with the intensity of a phoenix and crash,
in a plume of smoke and lie there, shuddering.
I have always wanted to light someone on fire.
I always want them to love me so much that it destroys them,
but this time: I'm afraid it will,
and I am willing to burn myself on the stake if it keeps you intact.

The LORD is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.

you can try to swim the sea
you can try to hold the breeze
but say goodbye to you and me
you can try with skin and bones
but you will end up all alone
you can try to hide the sun
but say goodbye to everyone

I crave it,
the smell of raw earth that is fertile
and pregnant with anxiety
newborn vulnerability mixed with a ****** innocence
desire, pure and unfiltered
in its most childish and embarassing form
the smell of raw earth is what I live for
when the grass has been torn up
and all that is there is possibility
roots snaking and enticing through
fresh ground, the birthing-place
of all things alien
familiar only to other aliens
I am new
and I can smell the newness here as I fill my lungs
with that which has been written and found filled
written and done,
dirt is the ankles of the world
the calves, thighs, and what's between them
forever moving and shifting restlessly, frustrated,
rising and falling beneath the soft fur of grass,
hoping
for the grace and gifts of the gentle soft
baby leaves and sprouts
to come upon the raw earth
and take it to its highest love.

Somebody told me
that in their dream
I had said, 'Love is so hard to find,'
and they said, 'I'm right here'
and we kissed
and then another person
took my face in their hands
and giggled, and didn't, and I failed,
I always have that dream when I just hold someone
I just hold them in my arms all night long and that's when I know it will end
some people are scared love will never find them because they've never felt it
and I think they're lucky, they're lucky because love hurts
it hurts and its an ordeal that will scar your heart
I'm scared my heart is too scarred to pump anymore
I'm tired of falling for people,
and I dreamed of you every night for months and
you didn't dream of me, you didn't look at me,
you don't owe me anything for me just being nice to you
but I don't hate you for not loving me,
I hate myself for loving you.

Why, even surrounded by all these people,
do I feel such a crushing loneliness?

I never looked at things like maybe your mom does
Like, 'I've been in love with this man for twenty years
and he doesn't want me any more'
until a few days ago. And then I realized
maybe that's why your sister has such a fixation on gender
because what a man should be
is different from what he's been
so she wants him to go back to what he should have been,
and maybe, that's why you aren't touchy-feely
or comfortable with affection, because
you haven't seen it, because the past ten years
your parents haven't been expressing love
and maybe that's why you feel uncomfortable with overt displays
or even unvert displays
and maybe that's why you don't know how to love.

Honey, if you let me, I'll show you.

Do not call me teacher.
Do not call me light.
I am merely a reflecting glass-
showing a broken truth, not exactly right.

Do not call me preacher.
Do not call me uptight.
I'm only a Christian,
saying gently, "Come closer, it'll be alright."

Do not call me deeper.
Do not call me inspiring.
I'm just a poor lonely girl,
this gets kind of tiring- so

Do call me loving,
Do call me trying,
call me not enough, fine, that's true
but I'm reaching towards the sky-

I really do care for You,
I gasp for You every day
but I'm limited by my ego and lack of servitude,
my God, show me Your way.

Do not call me teacher-
that's the big guy, up there
He's the magnificent beautiful creature
with magnificent beautiful hair

Who unites with the world in harmony
and knows exactly how to love
my heart aches for having forgotten Him
but He saved me with His holy dove

My world is falling in place around me
My God is tracing the path
they've tried and failed to drown me
while I was sleeping- in my own bath.

Do not call me teacher,
I might speak His words, or try
but I **** up every day.
I'm dangling to this basic, dissenting concept of 'I'.

So I'm broken and lonely
and hurting, just like y'all.
Please don't call me teacher.
That's not who I am. I'm not worthy at all.

I never want anyone to fall in love with me
because I never want anyone to think I'm more
than I am

crying when you're by yourself, 'cause of what they think
about you

I mostly want to get ****** up
because I'm tired of thinking rather
than feeling. so please,
what would you do if you weren't in your right mind?

it's harder to get closure when my dreams keep demanding
I watch my life like a soap opera and there's a neverending
number of seasons. I don't have anywhere else to look.
I can't do anything but sleep. Oh God, I could be bounded
by a nutshell, and count myself king of the infinite space,
were it not I had bad dreams.

Is this real
or am I deluding myself
calling you 'love' when you feel nothing for me
I can't play with the hand I've been dealt
feeding my ego with faraway fantasies
do you really love me or is this just dreams?
maybe the reason I haven't told you yet is because
as long as I haven't told you, there's a small
fraction of hope, though failure's tall,
when I tell her that everything she does
is magic, then she'll have to make the call
and I'm not ready to hear it- I'm too far
gone with the wind, whispering these
hopeless aspirations to shoot for the stars
and the stars weren't there to begin with.

a book and a quiet room while it rains with someone I love