My legs are on the brink of
Breaking, shattered bones from
The weight of voices.

It’s ridiculous to try
To comprehend whether you tasted
Bitter or sweet in my mouth
All these years.

From every comfortable slumber
and sleepless night

You are my favorite dream.

When i hear the electric strings
The strained throats
The memory of You turns into
Liquid form that bathes me.

One of my favorite things you do
Is mumble in your sleep
A wispy whisper, secrets only we know
Underneath heavy sedation,
The comfort of avoidance
Life wanders off, forgetting us
Cotton fresh and messy hair
The sun doesn't dare bother us
Anything matters only in these short breaths, enclosed.

I found myself in the directory
With pink ink
Scribbled by blood
Of mental clarity

I used to make little whirlpools with my finger,
In the dark
When I was a bubble, you couldn't hear my pop
I landed back in the cold water
Bleach to sanitize, never enough
My eyes were bloodshot underwater
And I dove to the safest place
The bottom of the sea
The sea shells were never real
And neither was your face
The pressure in the trench would take my breath away
Float to me, I always screamed
But I was too busy chasing the light.

Today, I was going to call you
I thought about it all day
I practiced what I would say to you
"hey, hows it going?"
"hi, how are you?"
"you doing okay?"
but none of these questions were about me
I didn't rehearse lines such as
"oh yeah I went to a concert yesterday" or
"been working a lot" or
"I hate you".

Today, I was going to call you
because even though I wouldn't admit it,
I was scared of your anger for not having
jumped as your lap dog after 2 days
1 day
a few hours
I know how you feel about me
I know what you say about me
So today, I was going to call you
but no matter how many times I say
"how high?"
when you ask me to jump
you'll always tell everyone
I'm a terrible kid.

so I'm not ******* calling you today.

I really hate that everyone looks like pieces of you.  
Skinny hands, ***** fingernails, thinning hair and yellow skin.
Stomach acid bubbles up and the bitter taste of your lying words surfaces on my tongue.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand tall when the stench of your black stain, lingers, unwashable, even when I bleach myself to death to rid myself of your impurities, you goblin.
You have given me no satisfaction, let me live loosely,
I would crawl a mile to you, knees bleeding, pleading you to release me,
Remove the destructive fear of looking any man in the eye anymore.
You don't exist but in a stale memory of a time I wanted to go back to someday.

But not today.

During the most uncomfortable instances
I think back on the piña coladas and sweet cream
Still fresh in the fruit, still whole
The salty air left sand on
The creases of my eyes
We found medallion shells together
But I held my own hand then
And let the blue wet my shorts
Unexpectedly, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Coffee stains on white sheets
Only spots and insignificant
When I inhale your bare face
Into my womb, hide safe in me.

How far are you willing to go?
Would you let the sharp shard of satisfaction
Cut you where it matters?
Would you let yourself bleed colors on the floor?
How far would you let your glass heart
Crack again?

She's alive! I gasp
Waking in the saturated falseness of my dream
I drive for hours every time
Just to see you proud of me again
Are you proud of me again?
Your tired eyes pierce my rest
And I always fall for it over and over
Knowing well I'm stuck in a bubble of lies
I'll still look for you, frantically
To tell you what I never said.

A man sits outside to watch the dusk. Scents of rosebuds and freshly cut grass arise. The blades all uniform, standardized. His chair feels cool, like the bottle in his hands. She, inside, creates his favorite dish like muscle memory, the glass door in between them. The children are safe in the shelter he has provided. There is nothing out here.
Only the mind and all of it's heavy storage. The key is always accessible, but he never wants it. Nothing has changed, but nothing is the same anymore. Inside closed eyelids are ghosts of his friends' torn up soccer ball and his father's ***** hands. They smell like earth.
The garden was bare towards the end, but once, a long time ago, he had oranges. There was everything out there.

We made plans some days ago to see the food truck on Saturday. It wasnt just any food truck; it was the Hello Kitty truck. You knew I had been wanting to see it in california but we never got a chance to go. We loved going to california. The calm beauty of our vacations made everything else so forgettable. My boss gave me a paper showing me how to get to the truck. I couldnt believe it was coming to us. There was no hesitation in your agreement to join me.
We drove Saturday morning in the early sunshine. I hated mornings, but they can be bearable for the right reasons. Driving with you is one of them. We were so laughably broke all the time but it didnt matter. Money comes and goes, but time stays and turns into memories. We would find gas somewhere. The journey was 1/3 the fun. The music was the other 1/3, and the destination was the last.
Arriving, we saw displays of expensive plastic. Cookies I could make at home with love. It was a sad sight. We couldnt afford anything that was on the menu, and the line was so long. The day was warm. I looked at you and shrugged. You flashed your warm smile. I loved you. The days couldnt be that bad with you. I asked if you wanted to go to a coffee shop. You were relieved to leave. We discussed consumerism and hated the hand life dealt us. But it was okay. You taught me how to play chess in the corner of the coffee shop. They had a lavendar drink that made me think of you. You loved lavendar. We talked and played chess for hours. Everything would be okay, I always knew.

You're still a child
fighting the dark asphalt
to find your mommy again
she's lost you to the cold
wanted posters cloud the telephone poles
where have you been?
She asks.
You've spent your whole life trying to answer her.

A sea of sweet, bitter gulps
the truth is so far away from me
it sweeps me here like dust, I am
back to the soil
where the flowers slow dance in the place
they've always been
tough and sturdy
reliant, time and time again
with branches and leaves
and books and time
and grapes melted in my throat
help me be here, stay here
with me.