oh, i yearn to make a leap
spill my heart out
but this is a tightrope i'm walking on

i'd love to ease the tension in my lungs
but with one wrong breath
we'll fall

it comes in the lonely hours of the morning
a suffocating wave of loss that leaves my throat tight
chest constricted
stomach rolling
i didn't think loss could feel physical

hugging my knees doesn't help with the tightness
i guess
but it keeps myself from breaking
it's not as good as the feel of your arms
but this will have to do.

i feel shy
when you tilt my chin with your finger
and explore my cheeks with tiny butterfly strokes
while drinking in the darkness of my eyes
my heart is fluttering fast
and you'll notice the slight curve in the corner of my lips
a hint of a smile, but i'm nervous
eyelashes cast down
avoiding your gaze
but my fingers are dancing
across the small of your back
travelling lightly across your waist
and up your chest
my hands
they give away my hunger
but my eyes are still shy
and i wish i could be a better lover
and god
i wish i could hold your hand

the snake in my spine
loves playing around my throat

it used to be that
i was the one stranded on an island
and with every perception of a passing ship
i would go insane
lighting fires
shining mirrors
screaming until my voice ran raw
it used to be that
i would chase down my freedom
like it would be the last ship i'd ever see.

but i'm on a ship now
and sometimes, in my peripheral vision
i think i catch glimpses of a break in the sea
where rocks rise subtlety from an expanse of shimmering water
but i can't be sure;
the sea likes playing tricks with my eyes
and anyways
i'm not the captain of this ship.



(but i think i prefer the island)

there are good days
and i can love the sun beaming at my laugh
i can feel the canine affection
as the wind playfully tousles my hair
i can sing along to the sweet melodies
that the birds chime into the air
there are good days

but there are days when
the sun seems to stay in the sky for too long
and its malignant rays seem to pierce my eyes without mercy
and when night,
blissful, dreamless night,
finally sets
all i can hear is the echo of a tap
drip

          drip

                    dripping

its hollow notes a dull ache in my mind
where i reel with a tempest of self hatred
while i bite my knees
and rock to and fro to the eddies of worthlessness;
i am losing.
i'm fighting, believe me,
i'm fighting
but my arms around my knees
and the movement of my body
is a dull sword
and i am tired, so tired

but there are good days



There are good days.

but all the sad things
sound the most poetic.