i want you, fully fleshed out
     (reconstructed, annually)
for them to see you / in the flesh

complex, that it brings forth
the exhaustion of words

heavy, for lives are heavy,
                 chest-crushingly
     heavy (and my heart cries out,
            bullet-pierced, past distances,
                 to a younger/ age)

the act of reduction
(an elimination)
onto smooth surfaces and shiny layers

is just criminal

Imagine darkness liquefied.
Imagine rain. The drip-drop
the splatter of disintegrated-drops
(the plit and platter) on concrete.
the fat blobs of water whizzing through the air
Accelerating, a sob stifled

Imagine that, and kitties and puppies with soft tummies
tumbling from the overcast sky in metaphorical circles
(Don't imagine their demise- Imagine instead,
the taste of mud and scent of grass
permeating the misted air)
Then the unpleasant chill, the muddied boots,
clothes that cling&uncling to the skin/ as you run.

(this is sorrow condensed) the rain in the stomach
collects into puddles (at the bottom pit)
They say (they say) not to stare into the abyss
but puddles are only water accumulated
and gazing in, I see not a pillar
for tears are harmless, sodium chloride

But it's your choice, whether to step
inside and ****
the mirror image

You'll forget the taste of the sun
when night comes. And the night
will come as a thin veil of darkness
thrown over an unlit room.
Careful not to trip over these
orange globes. You regret to say
that sugar is no longer a necessity
to induce happiness, but a threat
that intoxicates. Missing the warmth,
you unpeeled one, swallowing in slices
the shine of the sun. They sit silent,
the tangerines scattered on the floor,
still, unmoving, cold to the touch
waiting to hear the remains of your story

Ink bleeds out of the tip of the pen, over
my heart's surface, and if words are sharp enough
it scratches. But this motion will come to cease
one day, same as this current (subcritical) flow
The hand that does not reach out for an utensil
to record and create, can only hang limp and empty
on the sides. Palms that hold air, but cannot curl
up into fists.

Self-censored tongue-tie, blind eyes
Sorrow coupled with fatigue, wearing
the body of flesh down to bone.
stripped bare, and with fragile hands,
when anger orders its destructive demands
I obey, gritting crooked teeth
Throwing punches at my own shadows

I cannot digest.
I consume the mandatory text, sometimes
spoonful, sometimes in chunks
my daily verbal diet.
But my swallows remain shallow, and my mind
works not as a sponge,
but a sieve that pours.
Inefficiency saturated.
Passing seconds of a shortening shelf-life
tick-tick-ticking, a hardwired bomb handed down
A worn dream that cages young minds
(the myth)
But my young mind dreams, of my judgement
Hardening up with every word they feed me,
I want to sum up human history, to know, to see
(Knowing it to be a luxury)

(Yet the sharpness of wit
is too fine an accessory to fit
on a body that aches, that creaks on sprint runs
that overflows with bruised sentiments and salt)
And yet,

7 am light, flowing past curtains,
Turning every dustmote suspended in thick, warm, indoor air
Into imploding stars.
Heavy-lidded dreams disrupted. Quiet.
They hide away, able-footed, into the soft crevices of the unconsciousness.
Turn to the other
Unoccupied side

Then 8. Tears dry into flakes.
A crumpled morning beneath a crumpled blanket nursing a crumpled soul.
De-crease your bad energy,
Control it, don’t let it get
The best of you. Boo-hoo.
Get dressed, clean, the daily routine, you know the drill.
Go.

With a push she sits up,
The pain inside her stomach hardens into diamonds. Her gaze
Travels through air, through space, through the window, glass, through
Millions of soundless, weightless miles

She turns to look at the sun.

i will write a song. Now. Here.
i will write of the static air
that expands between us.
Of the barbed wires, traps,
unintended smirks, intended silences,
of the things ( i could never speak to you)
i swallowed down without a sound like bitter medicine
(that done me no good. The muddy intentions
only accumulated in my stomach.)
(And refused to materialize.)

i will write a song and riddle it with riddles
Cover up my weaknesses with covert giggles
Shut tight my eyes and wait for the sound
Your declaration! The thud of the guillotine
That drives this to a clean cut end
( i could never speak to you)