stiff from lack of sleep
i dream of monogamy
and all the pretty little things
i'm meant to dream of
(but never do)

massage my shoulder blades
and i'll take flight

i can only love in hindsight
myself,
my body,
the boys who get the two confused.

i'm not afraid of moving cross country -- i'm afraid of the leaving, of untucking myself from this pocket of america i call home; my hate has cultured so well here, snapping threads and poking holes for breathing. the dirt under my nails from all the times i tried to dig myself to somewhere better is as much a part of me as my lungs, my brain, my heart; always be-be-beating to remind me to keep going.

to keep looking for loopholes.

i'm not afraid of moving cross country -- i'm afraid of tucking myself away in a new pocket of this country, far, far away only to realize that i hate it there as well; only to snag my nails on new threads, only to find myself sharpening toothbrushes when i'm nervous, only to dig holes in myself in my sleep. i'm afraid of losing my pulse, that be-beat-beat.

but mostly, i'm afraid of never losing it.

so i will collect ladders until
i can reach
and rearrange them

those days, i would've followed you off a cliff
these days, i'd call 911 --
because i know, now,
that love isn't wanting someone
so much that you'd die for them
but wanting what's best for them
and knowing
that isn't always you.

please do not be afraid i will not hurt you i
think my hands are made of splinters anyway i
think my hands are made of splinters anyway

(I) seaweed skin
today there is a
crevice where my
lungs used to be

(II) brass arteries
i took the long
way to work this
morning trying
to sidetrack my
mind with new
roads but there
are some bits of
you creeping up
my spine and
burrowing into
my hair and
nuzzling my ear
i had thought that
by now i would be
able to take breaths
without chunks of
sentences meant for
you breaking off
from my bronchial
tubes but they are
somehow still lodged
in there like they
have been called home

(III) umbrella heart
i used to wish no one
would ever touch me
ever touch me ever
touch me because their
fingerprints would last
too long and i can't scrub
them off like i want to
please let this be different
please let this be the end
of you aching at the base
of my skull and robbing
me of my purple dreams
and green hopes i want
to feel myself in my arms
instead of you