Push Skinny Boy
push
Annie said
but what if Sister Paul

sees you
on the kiddies’ swing?
she’ll not be pleased
you said

to hell with Sister Paul
to hell with her
Anne said
now push me high

and so you grabbed
the wooden seat
of the swing
and pushed it outward

and off she went
upward and downward
and you stepped out
of the way

now and then
and then you pushed her
some more
higher higher

she bellowed
and up she soared
her one leg taking flight
into the air

like a wild bird
on the wing
the wind lifted
her short skirt

and the stump
of her amputated leg
showed
but she didn’t care

she just bellowed
for higher and so
you pushed as hard
as you could

that’s it Kid
that how it’s meant to be
like a ******* bird freed
up and up I go

and you stood back
and watched her fly
her skirt flapping
her stump flashing

now and then
and the other kids
calling out
I can see her missing leg

I can see her stump
o go to hell kids
she said
go wet

in your aunt’s eye
and the kids went off
and one girl shouted
I’m going to tell Sister Paul

go tell her
you little weasel
go tell her
her white ******* stink

Anne bellowed
but after a minute
or so she stopped pushing
her leg in the air

and began to slow
and you watched
her black hair
about her head

flop back in place
and the fearsome features
settle
upon her pale face.

i slipped inside an atom to see what i was made of,
and i saw you there too.
hanging out with molecules,
we created as we went.
our dna collided,
neutralizing all that was,
evolving into something else.
we realized it was still us, and that
change was the essence of our creativity.
We stopped holding on,
and flew freely through every dimension.
and when we were done,
i went inside.

reachreach a
littlemore a
littlemore

closetoyou, closeto me

enoughtobe
close toyou

enough tobe
just
be.

You changed your clothes
right there in front of me.
The dust no longer clinging to your skin
like little specks of angel dust
Smiles fading into harsh words and tears
whether there's an audience or not.
A love stained like the sleeves of my shirt,
mascara-streaked and frayed along the seams.
I still can't handle real life.
Those inbetween moments where you're in his bed.
Where you're writing love letters on Valentine's Day
even though you hate it.
Your broken boy is still in pieces at the bottom
of your toy chest. Voice warbled from dead batteries.

the therapist said
that i have to
"strip away my earth suit
and find my true essence"

find my true essence.
who the **** am i without a boy by my side
and a hand in my hand?

who am i when i'm alone in my room, listening to silence?

who am i
without you?

It's hard.
it's gonna be hard to figure it out.
it's gonna be a journey

a journey that i need to take.

but at the same time, it's like
the Matrix.

taking the red pill?
or the blue pill.

you make a choice.
you can either hibernate
in another person's reality

or you can live your own.


but it's so much easier to fill this gaping hole in my chest with people that don't fit

than to try to let it heal by itself.'