if there were clocks that would send me back
before the time when the neighborhood
was full of toddlers and dying men
when the rain puddles still fell lightly
beneath my still-small galoshes,
i would use them and bring you with me
we'd look at each other with hazel eyes
dripping with the stars and the memories
of our distant futures, far from our miniature grasp,
and talk about flowers and their place in our hearts
and crawl through the mud without our raincoats
to find the worms in the dirt, to build them a
kingdom of sticks and dust
with a moat running through it and we would rule
despite our ever-changing bodies
and our once separate lives

i'd make sure to place you in the empty house
right next to mine
and we'd start again
as brothers

i am addicted to my makeup,
because it makes me feel pretty.
i am also addicted to you,
but you make me feel ugly.
it bothers me that,
to everyone else,
my addiction to you
is the more logical of
the two.

i've tried to give myself every warning
i've planted signs and grown a lighthouse
but im standing too close to the rocks
(its not that i can't see them,
its just that i don't care)
and i'm going to slip and fall
and im going to break an arm
leg and all my ribs
just to go swimming in my heart
just to let go of my caution-tape mind
so im going to sew my thighs and calves
so i can dive far beyond the crashing waves
where i could find my courage to speak
to whoever this is who has murdered me
to whoever this is who is smiling at me

my retainer broke and i held it in my hand
my nails were ***** because we were at camp
it was red plastic despite tasting like metal
and you were there, we walked into a boat
abandoned in the dry sand piled high
i kept seeing flies and i felt my heart
it was enormous and i couldn't stand
you made a face to show that you felt the same
when i told you about my fear of them,
and i made a face when you said you'd
forgotten to let me know, that in seven weeks
it would be goodbye, and you were leaving
for the empty deserts of California

i thought about the days and how to tell you
that i loved you, that i loved you, here,
that goodbye was all i had and all i could give
because my mouth was full from all the camp food
and the darkness you had chased away

you told me to sit by you later
when we watched the symphony play

when i woke up i couldn't shake the feeling that you had
died

you've got a forest burning in your eyes
that's never going to grow from the ashes
so move to the city and knock it down
like building blocks you want to go back to
but there's too many lovers in the way
so come away to the meadow with me
plant a few flowers and watch them grow to the sky
we have nowhere to be til they touch the stars
and then we can climb their young stalks
to see how far we've come since we lit a match

how about we start again
2:30 a.m. with broken televisions
reliving yesterday's disasters
just like when the waves informed me
that i don't hate clocks, i just thought i could
because you can since you're a god like im a goddess
but sometimes earth holds me down
just like the depths of the ocean that are too cold to
breathe in
and i do like the clocks because
my heart has no rhythm
like wind
so my metronome is something you will never follow
despite my silent requiem you yearn to find
and even i can't seem to fall asleep
with the sound of on-screen ocean storms in my ears
that you just can't seem to hear
on the next street over

they keep asking me if I'm 'okay'
and i can't say no because look at this,
a flawless facade drawn
with such vivid accuracy that the
picture is a photograph and I can
see myself in that mirror with my
perfect smile and life all ready
to be burned down to the skeleton in
my own fight for the freedom of man

and how can i deny the fact that I am
utterly miserable with this fleeting grin
and crying laughter that makes people wonder
if someone is dying in the next room over
when the disease is a cold and they have cancer
you know they can hear your sadness and they
are currently flying through their own darkness
to find the strength to strangle you until you cry no more
but it only makes you grow colder

the only proof for 'okay' is the words
that blare out like a speaker on repeat
because this face can't let them hear my cracking porcelain ;
not the little dying girls down the hall.

how much would i give to be a cat
my pendulum tail tick-tocking on top of the countertop
like the metronome that sits by the piano unused
(but the ghosts turn it on every once in a while
when they tire of standing behind my shoulders
at four a.m. when i am in love and cannot sleep)
with the rays of sunlight that erupt
in the morning, i'll sing 'til the door swings open
and feet will emerge, and on top of them legs
that hold body and hands to feed me,
all for me and
no other being will be as praised as i,
the king of the kitchen