as a child
i used to carve gravestones
with each narrow detail
etched carefully in the middle
however gradually
those sullen rocks crumble
and rearrange
beckoning my arrival
so they can be slowly pieced together
yet to my dismay
they have aimlessly sunken
leaving me no choice
but to dig.

it is late
i spill boiling water on these soft hands
because i need to feel something
hardly on purpose
but i want to write courageous words
bigger than myself
only to tear them apart
and scatter the pieces
in a nearby storm drain

your self hatred is so routine to you, but so astonishing to me.
i hope one day you realize that we all see through different eyes.
well, i'm clearly so shy.
but i won't hesitate to throw all my thoughts into a cloudy pool.
even the most worn down gamblers in vegas would never bet on this.
i feel serrated daggers plunge into my torso.
just from the quickest glimpse.
you are the most perfect creation i've ever encountered.

i'll put stamps on my body
and sit near the mailbox
but nobody will ever read
anything i've carelessly etched
underneath my skin
if you say a certain set of words
over and over
it begins to sound more powerful
and with each resounding echo
maybe you will actually believe me
i don't care about anything at all
i don't care about anything at all
*i don't care about anything at all

i am an illumination,
a constant flicker of light
my thoughts burn like candles
and wax drips down my weary face
i am uncertain of what expression
will cause panic in those nearby
stare at me
i need to be noticed
but i look away because
i don't want to be seen
such a tiresome game
i will never get what i want
and i am losing the patience
to keep trying to trace my fingers
around something that can't be held

my eyelids feel as if they are being pulled down,
there is a constant noise that comes from
below my floorboards like a hollow idea and it's screaming to be fed,
i hear it every hour or so,
now you're falling down the stairs
and i watch you beautifully pirouette before
i put my hands out to catch you.
why do i feel so guilty for indulgence when i am alive only this one time?
i am moving and the dark red trees on the mountain look transparent
and they are in the shape of a maple leaf. i never know what i am seeing
but i am sure that
somebody needs me. how can anyone love me
when i'm not even completely there?
i am out of my mind but occasionally i will dawdle back in
and feel the invisible edges. it must be nice.

i live for the moments
that you clasp my hands
tight like you're worried
i might float away.
the times your lips can't
contain your love when
you're close to mine.
the ways you find to hold
me when i'm too far
away to be held.
the things you do to
remind me that your heart
is my home.
the places we will soon
declare as ours like our
interlocked fingers are explorers.
i'm alive with you.