i think i could see myself
holding fragile life
in the palms of my hands,
a reverant look upon my face
as these eyes, harrowed by
sleepless nights and unsightly sights,
gaze down upon a being
wrapped in cotton blankets
that i love more than my own life

and then i could see myself
giving it up
because i do not know how to
stay loving;
i do not know how to be gentle

and i fear turning into my own father
by becoming a father myself

I am torn galactic
evolution in your pocket
the fight for fight’s sake

born and we immediately
start to die
this piece of us
of the divine in us
is giving
the order to burn and change

giving colourfades
to cut clear our own path
but chained Andromeda
dear
they may never believe you
unless you can tell them
where
this would be embodied

if it were real
and ask the monster in the water
ask me
to rip apart everywhere I might touch
were we wrapped together
I would

the side of your ribs, your thigh, your shoulder

were we wrapped together in womb or in worship

all i want to do
is preach

about how much i don't care

like maybe
if i say it enough times

these idiots might finally believe me

i want to love you
the way
i believe
that you should be loved.

but i can't.

beliefs and abilities:
often polar opposites,
rarely do they come hand in hand;
even the most devout Catholic
will sometimes miss
Sunday mass

but i do remember that Sunday,
so long ago now,
that you made me question
the possibility of soulmates

and i remember thinking
about how you bring me
closer
to religion than i've ever been,
your name
falling
(i'm not falling. i'm not
falling. please don't make me.
i hate that)
from my lips, like a heartfelt
prayer amidst our sin.

but that's the point, i suppose:
i don't believe in God.
i believe He is a possibility, but
i can't commit to Him.
won't.
can't commit to anybody—not even
myself.

so maybe i love you;
maybe that's true.

it doesn't change the fact
that i'll never be steady enough
for you.

it doesn't change the fact
that religion can't save me,
that the closest to the Bible i'll ever be
is a representation of
the Devil.

it doesn't change the fact
that i'll never be good enough
for you.

i want to love you
the way
i believe
you should be loved.

i just can't.

If I shoot you down,
Please, don't take it personally.
I am a walking trigger warning;

It doesn't take much to set me off.
I explode at the slightest provocation
And make sure the cause

Is stained as red as my vision.
Your shirt might never be clean again.
Neither will I.

I dreamt—oh,
how I dreamt

that you were carrying
my child.

I do not remember who you were,
nor do I remember who I was
in this particular dream.
Perhaps a favourite character of mine
from a TV show I love.

But my body was not my body,
nor was your body yours.

In spirit, I knew you
and I knew myself,
and that's all that really mattered.

I still don't remember who you were, though,
my dream lover...

my subconscious desire?

We fell under peril and
ran
from some villain. Things
went wrong,
as things in my life are wont to do.

This villain, threatening
our child, our happiness,
was—of course—still less of a
monster
than me.

I do not recall how it ended.
But
I kissed you.
Soft, and sweet, and loving;
your lips were so warm
and your body, your hands—
they felt like
home.

That kiss...
it was perhaps
the gentlest thing I've ever done,

and so that is how I came to wake up:
because I knew it wasn't real.

I am not gentle. I do not love.

seven months ago:

i. i will fall asleep and let it infect me like a virus and if i die before i wake up my obituary will explain to you how i felt tonight so i never have to

ii. it’s cosmic, i’m telling you. you’d miss me if i wasn’t here.

iii. it’s all quiet. i am here but no one can see me. they can feel me. it’s easy and unpleasant. i just exist, past their realms and in their blind spots.

iv. i want to go back in time and pick you instead

six months ago:

i. i have a lot of pent up resentment towards people i used to love that are successfully existing without me in their lives while i am struggling without them

ii. cant stand you. cant stand being away from you. thank you for calling me beautiful, even if you didnt mean it. i don't feel that anymore, but i did. even for a moment, it was there. we were there.

iii. of all the things you did to me, the worst was making me believe they were in my best interest.

iv. if i could sit in a puddle of nostalgia and let every memory with you hit me like a rain shower id probably contract pneumonia or something.

five months ago:

i. it’s comforting for me to know that you can miss someone and love them without wanting them in your life.

ii. ive spent too much time treating myself as if my love is not sacred, as if it can’t stop time and heal people and create magic. everyone i love is lucky to have me, whether they know it or not.

iii. i’ve always had vivid dreams but last night made me feel something very weird and unexpected.

iv. it’s exhausting falling in love with and getting your heart broken by every soul you meet but i am strong

four months ago:

i. i surround myself with nice and beautiful people and in turn feel disgusting and destructive and ******.

ii. i know people can see me but i feel entirely translucent and invisible

iii. i can’t wait to be 18 so i can check myself into a psych ward

iv. i have stood where you stand and felt what you feel and it’s tortuous and inhumane but you exist outside of the boundaries it sets for you

three months ago:

i. i feel like my life is balanced between the moment where you realize you are falling and you are going to hit the ground and the second after you feel it beneath you

ii. i am not a savior, i am not an angel. my words will not heal you. don’t put the pressure of your will to live on my shoulders, i am tired and i have a lot to balance.

iii. today i am a raincloud and not even just a raincloud i am a cloud that is full and dark and waiting and it won’t rain it will pour it will storm there will be sirens and lightning bolts and thunder and people will cower in safety and i will stay here and be destructive

iv. i woke up safe yesterday, today none of it is real and i hurt when people touch me

two months ago:

i. i think i am in love and it’s inconvenient it’s pestering, i am trying i am trying i am trying.

ii. i want to feel love but i feel so unattainable like i am so out of touch with my genuine emotions that i wouldn’t even know how to feel it (if i even could?)

iii. you have no ties to the people you have been. every day you grow- every day you leave your mistakes behind you and shed all of your previous versions. keep going.

iv. nothing has changed. dont mistake my compliance for forgiveness.


one month ago:

i. i wish the things i care about in my life were concrete instead of the distorted abstract i deal with everyday like a chore

ii. i think about what being dead would feel like a lot and every time i am done i feel like i have to apologize to my mother.

iii. you are not an antidote, i do not need you to survive, you are not sunlight, i do not need you to grow

iv. i am afraid i will never get better.

v. i have always had a hard time with holding grudges but today i climbed onto the other side of the railroad bridge and sat above the water, in line with the trees, and i felt so high and real i whispered into my own palms “i forgive you.”

you said you liked the way i made you feel,
said you've never felt happier than when you're with me

i said i liked the idea of you being home,
i said you could be the one that might make me fall

When they asked if
We had gotten back together
I stuttered,
Unsure if I wanted to say
"I wish,"
Or
"Never Again,"