He was just alive
beside me, laughing at my
***** jokes, shaking
his head in shared silent mirth.
His last words – ‘Stop it, Joe, you’re-‘

Born
Without skin
To hold it all in

Nerve
      So raw it screams
              (everydayeverydayeveryday)

Mind
        So exhausted it snaps
              (itsnotmeitsnotmeitsnotme)

Feeling
         So intense it chokes
               (icantbreatheicantbreatheicantbreathe)

To hold it all in
Without skin
Born

My mistake;
I told myself I just forgot to put my makeup on
and no one would really notice anyway,
but there it is large as life -
the part of me that doesn’t fit in.

You wouldn’t understand; no one does.
Who I am doesn’t fit who I’m supposed to be.
Cramped and crowded in leftover expectations,
like a cicada larvae in too-small skin.
What will I be if I ever emerge,
and how long will it take everyone to **** it?

hope
is a brilliant gem
with sharp edges
that slice clean and deep
like a razor

Rushing downstream
everythinggoesbysofast
gasping above the waterline
idontrecognizeanythinganymore
grasping at rocks and branches
wherethehellaminow
heaving breaths haul me ashore
ilaygasping&vomiting;
where the hell am I?

i begin to think that death
is for the adventurous
and i am only a coward

i die so quietly
you dont even notice
im just an empty shell

now
i die quietly
only death can see me

now
i die

Breathing is too much
for me today; maybe I’ll
stop for a minute.

I have been gone from here, haven’t I, Love?
My body has faithfully occupied its given space,
And resolutely fulfilled the duties expected of it,
But I have been as a sojourner in a foreign land,
With only a thin tether of loyalty to bring me home.

It doesn’t fit right, you know.
The sleeves are too tight,
the shiny threads
running through the material
are scratchy,
and I never really liked this color,
anyway.
I wonder if I can return it?