I decided it was time to get the sponge
find the soap underneath the sink underneath the
garbage bags and start piling on the
lukewarm bubbles and wait for it to reach a
comfortable level before I allowed my hands to grab
this bowl that was stacked side by side, tall and wide along with the plates and glasses
grimy with crusting red sauce, an alarm for the bugs reminding them
spaghetti was made last week. I had to put more elbow grease
into that off-white, lightly detailed, crunchy bowl. the
red stain threatened the credibility, questioned the use of
cereal for breakfast or ice cream at night. So I tried harder to
make it disappear and my arm did not
understand and my bowl did not
relent
I almost left the sink full of cold water, void of soap, floating sponge
and I almost left the hard work for someone else who
doesn't give up
but I was fuming and I was frustrated and I was not ready to
fail
so I picked up last week's spaghetti and made it this weeks
ice cream bowl

I still have more to give
                   cried
the rotting leftovers
in the back of the fridge
Desperate to be
used
ripped
snagged

just take me off
this crusting tomb
I
   want
              to
                     feel
what it is like to be
           reheated
just zap me
   :45
ill be tender
    ill be good
                               enough to eat
alive
and the last streams of red can trickle onto
your paper towel
                                                 all the mess
                                                 ****** away
                                              by the quicker picker upper
slip slip slipping
on this plastic plate
   because you dropped all your fine china
                      you broke all the glass
                             you cracked all your chances
for divine dinning
I can watch your eyes roll around
from the inside of my lightening storm
a game of Yahtzee- snake eyes 4 times in a row
scanning everything
                                                      ­forgetting everything
are you feeling lucky?
:10
almost almost
       almost

drip drip dripping
           is the drool from your mouth
you forgot how good I can be
use the knife and cut away the bad parts and ill be
the prettiest picture
               you've ever seen
i'll taste just like I look------ a piece of rotting meat with the corners cut off and the juices all dried with a warm reminder of hot all dumped onto a plastic plate.

delicious

your lips
       promise me
                beauty and possibilities
                             I love indulging
                                    in the whispers of
                                             glass slippers and
                                                   love letters
            but
                                                      sometimes
­                                                             those suspended moments
                                                         ­                disappear along with your
                                                            ­                       exhales of
                                                                ­           ~  ~  s ~
                                                               ­                 ~   m~
                                                              ­               ~   o~~
                                                             ­                  ~~   k~~
                                                             ­                ~~ e~~~
          and the taste of
                                                              ­                             reality overwhelms the
                                                             ­                                     sweet butter cream dreams
                                                                ­                                          all I want is a kiss
                                                            ­                                                     to end
                                                             ­                                                        happily ever after

opportunities
                           can snap
                              at the end of
          the show
  all their promise
                     full of heart ache and fear


dreamed of
          glimmering

the cost
                  will
be covered in white carpet

oh no, the burning of
the throat for which the great horn bellowed
years and years of
imagination twitch- twitch- twitching
to reach the heart maybe reach
the gun of thirsting hot
treated misused hot twisted--
but at last
s
  t
    r
      e
         a
             m
                    s s s s s
they know even when
you are drowning you are still
soothed and it hurts and it is pure
so just relax
              relax
              relax
so many smooth
streams

at 11:47 your breathing
dropped slow
a sandbag underwater
drifting

I could hear the seaweed beneath your chest
my ear against the thin layer of skin
a raft protecting me from those
dark depths full of mystery
and angel fish

I couldn't imagine
diving
then we had that talk
the air was making my fingers stiff
I paced the sidewalk
and you were 20,000 leagues
under the sea

But I know there is a treasure chest
full of books
all hand written
by you
all that emotion, all those thoughts
they have to go somewhere

12:53
When you move to your side
I slide back to
land
my eyes filled with salt
from keeping them open
at your side

that's fine
I like blue
at night --I'm just the buoy
dipping and bobbing
in your arms

dreaming about the day
we can swim to shore and
ring out our shirts
and let the sun
brown our dried out skin

to be sure
        completely
     "You could play"
                         said
the sharp
  
      turn for the worst
   back in line with
              the long run

when her toe hit the wood
                the nail split in half
                                                            ­                        in the center
                                        cracked just right
                                                     so when she applied pressure
                                 on her leg to be straight
                                                 up and down stretchy muscle
       the split
       splintered
                   and while falling she pumped
                                            air through her fists, open and closing
                                                         ­          maybe for the tan bar which
                                                           ­                         she could command in practice
                                    which she demanded now
                                   yet the stage was only the light and
                                                             ­                                              pieces of wood
                                                            ­                                                           and nail
                                                            upon­ landing the crowd gasped
                                                          ­             in entertainment
                                                   ­             at how graceful feathers
                                                        ­           flew from her mouth
                                                                ­     black and flawless
                                                        ­                            like the lace of her costume
                                                         ­                                                         envision­ing a swan
                                                                ­                                                   a crow
                                                            ­      it didn't matter at all
                   both could fly
                    but they had wings
                                              and she had faults, deep deep tremors
                                                 opened wide on the great black valley
                        coughing up feathers
                        when she wanted tears
and the crowd just stared
some smiling some surprised
                       all without blinking
                                     when the legs decided to extend some support
                       the mistake took root and gave her a rush of
shame
                               which allowed her to fly
                                          [briefly]
         ­        behind the curtains
                                                        ­                      like the crow
                                                            ­                   like the swan
                                      after the silence
                                     of awed mouths
                                                          ­gushes of applause
                                                        ­                           for the splintered tiny dancer
                               who tried to show the world she
                                                             ­    had something to say
                                                         but instead only managed to
                                                             sprinkle the audience with
                                                            ­            a few feathers.


They all gave it
rave reviews

Hold me
like the branch holds the new snow fall
supported, content, each knowing the others role

No
not like a dying man holds a raft at sea
I am not your savior
I cannot resist the weight
I sink too

Hold me
like a mother who feels the weight of her baby's blue eyes
deep, connecting, gentle

No
not like an addict holds the needle
I am not your answers
I cannot control your shakes
I get lost too

Hold me
like a man so in love he will never let go
committed, strong, encouraging

No
not like a boy searching for a puppet to play with
I am not lifeless
I cannot be controlled
I lead too

I will

cut those strings and run
to watch the mother holding those baby blue eyes standing knee deep in snow while the man who holds her hand will never let go

greasy.fatty.fulltoofull.sodabubbles.brownbrown.dressing.lettucet­omato.bread.fattywattypattypack-onyourstomach.fried.grilled.toast­ed.microwaved.unwrapped.boiled.fingersandforksandspoons.
jeansare­tightpushitaway.letitbe.waitabit.waitlonger.okbackagain.greasy.fa­tty.
lotsandlotsandlotsandlotsandlotsandlots.Idon'tlikeourmirror.­Idon'tlikethatimage.
nowayisthatme.letitbepushitawaywaitwaitwaitw­ait.

"What can I get for you?"

*"nothing"

well
     well
          well

looks like I create happiness after all

I wonder if I
can build a wall
so tall it becomes
a well and people
who pass will throw their
pennies with scraped chunks
of wishes onto my head
like copper rain and no one
will find me because they only search
the ground level never
below, deep inside this tower,
my castle, and if one day
they give up I can kick out
some stones and they will all
give way to the spaces and
bury me forever in all the fears
I hide from, heavy heavy heavy
under my tall stone well.

Filled out a prescription
symptoms include
chance of heart failure

ashes

litter the chalky concrete
black patches of dried skin scratched from the house
your house
swirling, because the creeping draft
stirred the leftovers, settled in the creases
by those two strokes of
troubled vision.
your face

it spread quickly, suddenly
as most wild things do
lazy and uninterested, red and orange
eating out of boredom, handfuls of
your house
what could I do but watch
you be swallowed
whole

the investigation proved to unearth
skeletons
rubbed raw in piles of
ashes
from the fire which ate
your house
I held up my magnifying glass
only the furrowed brows were
visible

they said it would be easy to
level the rubble
clear it out, rebuild- brand new
it would still be
your house
just stronger with steel frames and
brick walls (with windows)
if the fire came to
snack
the ashes would not
fall in your eyes like
dandruff
irritating right?
so will you let them
in?

I promise once you
let the steam strip away
the flashbacks
and allow the water to
blush your skin
the deflating moments of
ash
will not find the key to
your house
when I ask what's wrong
and you say "nothing"
for once, that can be the absolute truth
for you and I  both

hahahhaahaha
                                      I
                                      thought
                                      you
                                      were
                                      my
                                      whole
                                      world>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>  so wrong

Writing this
                                                            ­ specifically
                                                                ­                               for you
                                                             ­ yep, you
                                                                ­                               in the black beanie
                                                          ­     wondering
                                                       ­                                        (because that's all I do
                                                              ­                                  on the weekends)
                                                       ­         if you read
                                                            ­                                     anything
                                                        ­         here.
                                                           ­                                       also
                     ­                                            is there anything    
                                                                ­                                    you'd like to add?
                                                            ­     because that
                                                            ­                                        would be great
                                                           ­       would be nice
                                                            ­                        
                                                                ­                    I think anyway

Curious about
           the way
                   you built this
                                               solid ground
==========================================================­====================                             
so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so strong, so fast
===========================================================­====================

Won't deny that
               It is so much easier to walk, think, smile, laugh
                                                 live
                             There is no crumbling world around my ears
                                                            ­      there is no pouring salt water
                                                           ­                                flowing freely from fallen faces
                                                           ­                                                             HOWE­VER
?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????­???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
quest­ions questions questions uncertain uncertain uncertain doubtful doubtful doubtful real real real  
??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????­??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

I­ can see that rose is red
              I can see it grows
                               I can see it bend
                                              I can see it snap
                                                            ­     It looks like a **** to me
                                                              ­                A **** that makes your fingers drip
                                                            ­                                  Rose seeds
                                                           ­                                   so red
                               it all depends on how tight you hold the stem

###########################################################­#######################                              
I boarded a train, it zig zagged--quick, unstoppable uncontrolled. It was nice. It was, steel
###########################################################­########################

peered through the window
of this train
(slightly fogged, slightly blurred)        
But I managed to make out the image of
this girl
(this woman?)
whose back rested against the cushion, eyes wide, face open, shoes tied
she mirrored
impressionism
I noticed
the small details
her coat was covered
her hands were covered
                                                        ~­ with red rose seeds~

surrounded*          surrounded                    surrounded­   surrounded
surrounded                                   I am
   surrounded                                              remin­ded
               surrounded                          of a breeze when                            surrounded
                  ­                               I think                                                        s­urrounded
  surrounded                                        ­             of you
                                                     here with me                                                             ­ surrounded
                                         * sometim­es overwhelming
surrounded*                                   *sometimes gentle                    *surrounded
              surrounde­d                                  always surrounding                             surrounded
                                                    ­        b r  e  e  z   e  s though
              surrounded                           t­hey are moving                                     surrounded
      surrounded               here             * there*             fast             slow            
                                            ­                           they come                                                           ­     surrounded
                                     surrounded                                                     ­    they go
                                                            ­                 Can I rely on a b  r ee z e                                   surrounded
                     surrounded                              Can I rely on...............
                                       surrounded                     surrounded           .........       surrounded
             .......................                ............              ­   .............            ...................
    ........
....
**­you

His cane bares as many wrinkles
as the tired sagging years
of skin
Trembling, the scuffle of leather
on the grass
ssswwwwissshhhhh
was not heard over the drags of
fresh air
New as it enters aged as it leaves
Does that glassy stare
see?
Is he searching for an X on the road?
or is he purely on a quest to
move
one swish in front of the other
escaping the burn of age
the spike of purpose the rush of
world
always better than the rush of
pills
8 a.m. "Have a nice day!" Grab, lean back, swallow
8 p.m. "Have a nice night!" Grab, lean back, swallow
escape.
shivering slightly
in the lonely place
skin thin as a
poorly made jacket
in seeps
all the cold
weathered from the storm of
living
the storm of
deaths

swwiisshh

-just move-

swwiisshh

-lean on the cane, lean on the pills-

swwiisshh

the Lonely Place, I live in the Lonely Place

swwiisshh

-NewOld  breathe  NewOld  breathe NewOld-


swwiis. Gaspgaspgaspgaspgasp

-Hold heart, reach reach-


*"I'm Scared".

hate hating
but for you?
I promise I'll try
                                                    


                                                      liar

we can watch the waiter clean the dripping puddle of spilled chocolate milk and see how he looks at me disapproving my clumsy hands kinda wishing I never stepped foot in the restaurant and later we should try swimming but not in a pool not in a pond but a great lake (with jellyfish that don't sting) and the ripples will flatten out mimicking the puddle of chocolate milk against the white towel and deep into the night we can imagine the number of glowing bulbs and blades of grass never ending just like the moment just like the day just like the way your hand moves over my arm gliding smooth smooth and flowing glassy without interruption highlighting the way a group of words can manage to escape punctuation leaving behind the choppy tension only dancing on and on to a place that can't be ended with a simple spot of ink directly below the last letter**.

citrus

it smells like
citrus
in this room

left in the trash
all twisted
torn
orange

did it taste
bitter?
too ripe. was it
too old?

burned
I bet
when the juice hit your
small cuts. small cuts
almost healed- but it still had to
hurt. just a bit
just a bit?

but that was awhile ago
from the looks of it
wedged down there
in the stupid trash

that doesn't matter
ok?
no one feels bad about
the action of peeling
an orange
nobigdeal

I was just saying that
this room
(which was always too small)
still carries the
hint
of
citrus

As I fall
little cannon bursts
of cut ribbon
yellow green blue
I will rain
on your parade
but the good kind
if there is such a thing
and maybe ill land
in your hands
on your shoulder
in your hair
and I'll get to be with you
even though I'm not
there
just pretend I'm the confetti
in the air
the drink in your veins
the pillow by your shoe
the couch you passed out on
it's whatever one you choose
just as long as you pretend
in some way
too


hmm....immediate sequel

actually you know what
don't pretend anything
don't say a single lie
don't utter a  false sentence
mean everything

next time, count me in
and we can watch the confetti
together

Just because my eyes
are slightly more red than the
average, and my ears listen more to
                                                                ­                                                    roars

than normal talk. My fingers are
more greedy, reaching for things
never yearned
                                                                ­                                                    before

I met you. Why now do familiar faces wish to
pour into my sharp eyebrows
                                                        ­                                                            speec­hes

I don't care much to hear. Does
it matter that running feels more
natural, instinct that I should feel
                                                            ­                                                        afraid

b­ut I don't. Do I care to
figure out
                                                                ­                                                    the monster

that reflects back into my cheekbones.
What does it hungar for? What does it
know? I'm not sure if I have the  
                                                           ­                                                          will

to overcome it. Or the ability to pry away
the nails that resemble too much
the rage of
                                                              ­                                                        claw

mar­ks. Dare I take a light into these dark
thoughts and search for long sentences
that traveled
                                                        ­                                                              awa­y

from the mess. What do I expect to find, what
is it I look to now for answers? Should I
stand on
                                                                ­                                                       what's left

of this old bridge with these rotten logs and
aging secrets? This sight- is it part
                                                            ­                                                            of me

or is it just a sad painting I keep confusing
with a sad memory. My heart aches for beauty
in the intriguing hues of gray.
                                                           ­                                                             or maybe

this gallery, this mueseum of
inner maps will lead to new rooms.
Red eyes, angry claws, mighty roars,
sharp eyebrows
                                                                ­                                                        the monster is

what I believed to represent. Perhaps
it is only a mere splattering of
                                                              ­                                                            brush­strokes

I allowed my mind to be absorbed into. Like
all good art, it captured my soul, paralyzed.
                                                      ­                                                                 ­     and I

was unsure of reality. How funny
it is to be so lost and not know it. Now
I see clearly, now I can
                                                             ­                                                              continue

to know. Know what I hungar for, what
I crave. I am what I want
                                                            ­                                                                 to be

and that is as comforting as walking
onto a porch to observe the sun as it
dives into solid ground.
                                                         ­                                                                 ­    Free

as the cool night air, welcoming
the stars and all the promise a new
morning has to offer.

we resemble
pen and paper

You help me and
I help you

now we have a chance to
write a story together
a new adventure

let's make it full of happiness

A canvas is merely a mirror
Yet, I change to fit the image-remake reflections
Feel me as paper in the frame- might I be glossy as oil, will eyes slant along bends in light,
does the dull perfume of ink still linger? Hush -
is there a faint pushing of blood through painted veins?
I taste the sour stroke of an artist's mistake
Pointed footsteps echo insults, "Stupid Girl". Such prickly laughter slit
the base of stone statues.
I sense a million standing bodies
and a building desire to melt- hidden as one of the alluring ladies
amongst the crowd. I will chisel my features to charm the masses
The lashes that brim my sight mimic the bristles of a paintbrush-
yes I blink masterpieces!
Enchanted emotions engage everything
With the speech from a baton, the passion in symphonies will mesmerize
Dive from the stage, explorer- sometimes when we imitate we fly.
The image becomes me, I become the image.
Will the lens of film alter too?
Might the harsh flash of society disfigure itself yet again?
I stare at us all- each an individual glimpse of art

no one will understand this
gibberish is more like it- some foreign language
it doesn't make sense
no one will understand
I'm not quite sure I do

fuzzy
it's becoming
scratch that
I'm becoming
me?

see the way the t.v. laughs at our faces
when the screen irritates our ears with
complaints
we watch it too much
we crave it way more than we
should
oh shoot I assumed again
replace the we's with I
actually.......nevermind
I don't care- I feel like I'm right about that
this time
....sorry?

but that sound
[the laughing-the continuous laughing]
that is where fuzzy comes
into play- this little game this little trial run
with it's "rules" which are really "guidelines" because no one intends on
listening to any of it
because everyone intends on
stepping over lines, breaking all their words
they said couldn't....they said they would never
bend
[well they bend all the time- but i'll say it's because we are
human. mistakes are natural, deal with it. human- I'm allowed to not
listen(understand).     I'm allowed]
oh right that fuzz
talk about annoying
just turn it off
it isn't hard okay, it isn't hard
just do it already

much better
so much better
hey did you know that
I walked into my room today and
didn't feel a single twinge
of negativity
I beat the rules
[I'm allowed]
beat them dead
sure I know it hasn't been long enough
blah blah
still beat it, stepped over the line
and it feels goooood babe
it feels real good

hope that the weather is less bitter about
ahem.....love
than I am
that word .....frankly look at it
it's just a bunch of lines
and people always step on those, break them, bend them, try and change their shape
so the original meaning, the true ....personality of the word love
its a bit harder to discover since it became a game of hide and seek and pick up sticks

or it hides
away in a pocket
that someone made themself
really we all make the word ourselves
stitch by stitch
until it looks right
"right"
you found love?
great!

hope you don't lose it

hope you think it's right

hope you actually mean it

hope that girl you find
                                                          kn­ows it's not real

harsh? fine, whatever


do you get it?
yeah of course you don't
you never did

you never could
because you were never meant to understand

because you were never meant for me

I may not know exactly what to do
this could be all wrong
this could be all right
all I know is
I like how when my head becomes
too heavy and folds to the side
it comes to rest on your shoulder
resembling a shelf I can escape to
high above the sharp teeth memories sometimes
leave bare, snarling yet whimpering
afraid they are being enclosed
shut away
in a wooden box. smooth wood.
surrounded with travel tags that turns out lead to
the closet

this could be all wrong
this could be all right
however I know when my eyes drift I say goodnight
and it's not to you
in fact, a lot of me has absolutely
nothing to do with you
the links of my chains are dwindling
that's all me old friend
all me

simple peace
lazy behind the left side of my chest
it resides
the pain you created is becoming what it was meant to be
a memory
the past

                                                           ­                                I'm saying it's becoming easier and I
                                                                ­                           mean that
                                                            ­                               I hate to admit this
                                                            ­                               but
                                                             ­                              there are moments ( most inconvenient)
                                                   ­                                        when you arrive to haunt me

nonetheless
simple peace
I like it.

                             I hope you have found it too
                             then again
                             you were already
                             well on your way

hah
so you know you
make me smile
right?

I realize I am fairly
broken at the moment but
smiling feels
amazing

can't tell you how much it means
to me
that you take my mind
and let it just think whatever, let it
freely wonder
to a place that doesn't hurt at all
not at all

wow
surprised that you help all the
sad that always built up behind my eyes
the sad that drove me mad, blinded
you helped it all
disappear
now it is becoming
a dull buzz
that hurts like the memory of getting stung

a faint sting
no one dies from a little sting
(ok well not unless they are allergic.......)
good thing I'm not!
hah!

I'm really saying thank you
thank you thank you

for being my friend

To the creator somewhere above all our heads,

they (we) call you
GOD

G   osh
O   h
D   on't we all wish

that we really knew
who/how/what you are
so
we could send you letters, with all the stamps you need, and we could ask all these
?  ?questions?          ? that float                                   ?                      ?                      ?         ?                  ?
float and attach to our finger tips              ?                    ?                        ?­                             ?                    ?
we use whatever we can to smudge it across sur(faces)
like we spilled ink on our hands and we can't get it off
                                        get it off
instead we just end up living with it, learning from it, painting with it
almost as if we believe that we can be artists who
paint in black and white
but there is lots of color too, all settled in between the letters between the
lines
lines and lines of these questions that we try to ask
or get rid of
                                        get rid of
because you know we all just want to make living a little less complicated, a little less
covered in smudges
always trying to make the perfect picture
Perfect.
Like heaven
Heaven
creating our own idea of the word here
just in case we don't find it
later on


I don't really know what to say to
all this air
what I say, well
it just shoots across and hits the wall
smack
waiting, stuck, like a post-it note waits on a desk
I think i'll peel it off and re-read
make sure I meant to say it aloud
then try harder
see, the thing is I ran out of stamps
but that doesn't mean I can't still address a letter and let it
float

GOD

G   osh
O   oh
D    on't we all wish for


more

sometimes life's a little funny
and we just never know
after the morning wakes and yawns
what events the day will throw

In fact, it doesnt matter if
the sky is gray or blue
when you step back and think
the choice is up to you

I really like to smile
I really hate bad news
but  somtimes life's a little funny
and we end up with a bruise

though, remember those clouds
you thought to be quite mean
there's always rays of sunshine
you could have never seen

yes, things will happen
and we lose our will to try
yes, sometimes life's a little funny
and it makes us want to cry

but that's why nearby
there's always a hand
to reach out and help with
beginning to stand

we feel up, we feel down
scared there's no place to land
but sometimes life's a little funny
and we start to understand

that
everything will be ok
and some things
never end

I was thinking
skeleton fingers, all joints and points, are a lot like
my pencil
bare,  hard, with these cuts here and there that
I don't remember making, I don't remember happening
it would make the same screech
as nails against a blackboard
that scream of desperation, or is it anger, or is it fun
well anyway my blackboard is paper
harmless..thin..blank..
 ----------
|                |
|                |       <-------  see. blank. just laying there, anticipating.
|________|
even when the goal is
Everything.
wishing to pull together a string of words
--------la tee da---------there once was------------the end-----------the beginning------------
unfortunately, they all just hang there
                                         a
                                      little
                  ­           like ornaments
                         on a Christmas tree
                     but instead of sparkling
                like all good laughter and songs
           they sort of hang there with sad curves.
      these bits of gray. I wonder if they even form          
  letters. Really I  just see all sorts of crazy symbols                
                            crazycrazycra­zy                            
                           symbols symbols
                           crazycrazycrazy

Tripped and fell today
wasn't watching myself
all these twigs, stupid rocks, mud
so much mud. ugh
it's all over my feet
seriously, it's a feat to go without the
accidental step you hope no one saw    
keep your eyes up- idiot....
then at least you'll be
prepared

and when you make it to the end of the road/path/decision/idea/goal
success! (it's alright that mud will come right out no worry necessary)
stretch your hand out to me
ill give it a good shake, show you a firm pat on the back
ouch?
oh-yeah I know, sorry
forgive my bony fingers      
and let me know if you ever need a pencil

I could say I told you so
but id only be talking to myself

it's quite obvious that
this is new
stretching out my legs and
walking
              walking around without a plan
                                 without those thoughts
                                                          those ideas
                                                           ­                         that one dream.......
                                      (it was so lovely)..........
it's alright my [love] friend, to admit that you still believe that. I know you do. I know.
yes, it'll be weird
walking around              
without you

yeah, of course i'm
numb
I will be, for a long time
yet just like when
I sit cross legged
on a couch or red plastic chair
and the feeling is lost
in what becomes rubber limbs

once I begin to move
not shifting positions, not trying to stay comfortable
when I really
stand up and start
doing all that walking
                                    walking
             ­                               walking
                          ­         walking
                       walking
the feeling shoots back

at first it is so
harsh and unyielding
I think I might never move
without this fire striking me down
well frankly I don't want to
fall anymore
I just,
I just don't

                                                          ­                                      I went looking and I found you
                                                             ­                                   and it was just like it was, but it was fleeting
                                                        ­                                        you looked me in the eyes, in the eyes
                                                            ­                                    said it was wrong, this didn't change a thing
                                                           ­                                     and when you walked away (because you were able to)
                                                             ­                                   you didn't look back, not once                
                                                                ­  I clutched my heart and watched you go until I couldn't see you anymore
                                                         ­                                       that was when I too, turned the page
                                                            ­                                                              


­so.....

I tell myself to
just keep letting my shoes hit the
pavement
and soon that tingling rush of pain
will subside
and it will be ok

and it will be ok

I reject the words that were like
honey on a bitter dessert
only hiding the
true taste

they are revealed
to be
silly wishes
that were whispered
in secret
and in vain
to an ear that had stopped listening
awhile ago

very well then
it seems I have been humming this
string of notes
all to myself
and they have been unbearable to endure
alone
yet I thought
I hoped
I did not just sing to an
empty room
but to the bigger picture

which would continue to become more
ornate
and continue to stun
only me

only me
ok
I'll get used to it
soon I beg
for the action of blankly watching my ceiling
every night
just won't do

I want to dream
instead

now i'll try
but only because you
asked so nicely

it's interesting to know
the truth is
the only thing
the.ONLY.thing.
that will stand- vivid and tall
right next to you
through all the madness
and it will keep you company
whether that's to a good place
or a bad place
and you can be sure that
it wont change
it wont hold back
it wont worry
when it stares you in the face
with the look of a bull that sees red
and releases upon you
answers.

Well.
it's super, really-super
to know that tiny glimmer of light
at the end of this black tunnel
was my imagination
thanks truth!!!
Now if you don't mind
and you DON'T
I think i'll turn around
and start walking out in the sunlight

and you won't see me again
for a long time

for that, little fake glimmer
is what you asked for

I want to memorize the way you
didn't show up

I walked a long time
yet when I snapped back
to the place I was standing
I saw I had only managed
a few steps
but that's a few steps I never took
before

my eyes keep shifting to the right
and I'm pulled to look at the road
transported
to this frigid piece of time
stuck, aching as it tries to move it's hand
down and force the seconds on
I'm not fooled, I know it's lost
in thought
just begging the world around to
hold their breath
so for the first time ever the moment could remain
unrushed and untouched
by anything other than
the past

like a fool I allow this
electricity in the air to
buzz and collapse into my
thoughts
and my heart starts reciting
a funny joke
that sounds like this:

"so this girl was sitting on
a curb
at this old campus
in the shadow trees cast
from the stars
and she kept looking
                                           right
and she kept looking
                                           right
this girl saw
these trees and these lights
and they acknowledged she was there
like a fine gentleman would tip
his hat
and she kept looking
                                           right
with some odd inclination that
she would find what she was
looking for
funny huh?"


I let my chin fall to my chest and
stared at all the pavement under my shoes
it was solid
I reached to shake the hand
of the fine gentleman's mighty branch and
it was solid
the metal railings, the reserved parking signs
all solid

I gulped in
buckets of icy electricity-
felt it stir inside
I can hear it humming
and it sparked this idea that

I'm solid too

No, I can't ignore this
but
it shouldn't control me

I feel ridiculous
just this mug
with this purple heart and this
yellow background
and do you know what I did?
[here comes the kicker]
clutched that little thing to my chest and
out from my mouth stumbled the most awful sounds
like they were lost in darkness, feeling the air blindly
confused at their mere existence, prodding jabs of exhales,
littering the space with blurbs of mismatch speech
silly as it sounds
I knew if I let myself
I could fill that purple heart with salt water
don't doubt it a bit
shocked about this incident
well
no, truthfully I'm not
as soon as my eyes locked their gaze
I could feel a stir
this buzz of an awakened monster
monster
and one just can't remain calm
with that
oh well, better luck next time
as in I might find a sword or a hero or
I don't know
courage
to look away and not dwell
idle in the same space, loitering
purposefully unintentional
if you can believe that
* side-note
rolled the word "Respect"
around in my head
for awhile
stretched it like taffy in the window, shot it at
faces as though it were a lecture
mulled over the depth of it
r-e-s-p-e-c-t
rreessppeecctt
came to this conclusion:
is it possible to respect "this"
....."this"
yet at the same time secretly
openly?
show that I wanted to hear you say
"yes, that'd be fine"
but it came out as
"thank you for respecting this"



oh.
ok

I should....
no, can't
       can't     can't
won't.
refuse actually. do I like hurting? is there a reason I don't just
move       on
normally when goodbye is said, twice, it means you leave
as in put one foot out into space and
pull
     down
see what happens, see what passes. well, I really wasn't ever normal
knew that from the start
but this?
I'm on an edge. this thinned pathetic rim
that looks to me a bit
u
  n
     sta b l e
clearly
                        [not clearly]
there is a problem
or something broken
I'm dealing with it, but let's be honest
sometimes it feels like I'm
meshing with it
blendingintothisbigmess
that's so hard [for me only] to separate
forgot about that- have to be more specific
[for me only] is this still more than a bad taste in my mouth
[for me only] it stripped me of common sense
[for me only] I can't sleep at night
All I want to do is
         be free
free to either walk through a day and not think your name
name   name
       name               name name
or free to fall into your arms at the end of the day
every day
whatever
I know I talk to a wall
                                      wall
and I'm here              wall           and you're there
                                       wall
                                       wall
and I swear I'm putting all I have into
[insert "letting go" here]
but instead-
trying to understand why I can't
leave you behind

I don't remember
how it feels
next to you
anymore

it only took
my breath                        
                           away
and my heart
only sorta
                           fell      
when you said
I'm sorry
it's for
                          the best
for both of us

this is what
I get
for saying
I love you

I'm tired of writing
about you
wish I could just drop the pen
release all this frustration
some other way
or even better
slap myself across the face
and be done with it
all this effort- feels so useless
can you believe
that this is the only way
I know how to try

oh, you again
thought you left
something about a brick
and how you understood
it's meaning
watched you go, well more like
watched your shape get smaller as I looked over my shoulder
I get it mixed up sometimes
whoops
for a second there I thought we were friends
sort of
I think maybe I talk too much, or is it want too much....
I'll cut it back to 2 attempts - is that better?
trying to respect the line, you know, that fine line
quiet, lots and lots of quiet
no don't worry about it, i'm used to it now
actually starting to like it
gives me a lot of time to reflect and
think
think think think think think
thanks. couldn't ask for a better way to
pass the time