R Saba

R Saba Nov 2013

want

to touch something,
anything.
to feel surface, electricity,
rough, smooth, endless,
anything.
to be somewhere,
outside or inside,
somewhere with light.
to feel a knee touching mine,
to feel the movement
of somebody else's breath.
to connect,
eye to eye
and palm to palm.

need

to be there now,
in contact with clothing
or skin
or both,
to be moving in time with the rest of the world.
to feel a knee touching mine
and staying there,
to have heat pass through space
and join us.
to connect,
eye to eye
and soul to soul
and palm to palm.

reality*

i am floating

three parts, one feeling, or maybe a million

R Saba Nov 2013

depersonalization, question mark

part 1 (this)
**** this
i say to myself
hoping the harsh words will strike me down
for i want to feel the cold pavement jar my bones
just
**** this
i say out loud
hoping the sound of it will hook into the back of my sweater
and reel my mind up to join my body
i say it and turn round
to see if anyone has noticed my efforts
and yet
i still feel the same
shock me
please change me
please bring me back
find the strings that connect my soul to my body
and tug
pull
bring me down from the cold blue sky
because
****
i want to know
if i'm happy or not

part 2 (search)**
and so i searched space
space bar
enter
an easier world
and i looked for myself amid the definitions
and questions
and stars
and i tested myself
without thinking
answers automatic
yes i know what's happening
and this is how i feel
but almost
not quite
and now i have a diagnosis
i have ten
one for each time i tried to define it
letting someone else do the job
and yet
i can't seem to label myself
and the screen lights my face
but not my heart
no
i have not yet been found
so i tap out the pattern
of how i think i would feel
if i felt
on the keys and i press enter
enter space
space bar
search
where am i

part one: how i feel. part two: what i did. result: i did not feel

R Saba Oct 2013

Innocence/Shock Value

I am not innocent,
not by a long shot.
Then again, who really is
innocent these days?
It's a ***** world,
and I try to stay clean,
waterfall once a day
to wash it all away.
I keep my mouth in line,
saying only half the things
that come to my mind,
and I don't swear.
Surprising, really,
to some people,
for they seem to be overdosing
on those words,
grandmothers' hands over their mouths
in shock,
callous and defiant,
rebelling
and making these ***** things a norm.
You'll laugh,
but to me, swearing is like love.
It's special;
it means something.
Fall in love every day,
and the meaning fades;
just like that,
those coveted four-letter words
become just adjectives and nouns,
nothing special at all.
So I save up,
like love,
waiting for the right moment,
so that when I need to,
the shock value is there,
the anger is real,
the truth is apparent,
and I am exposed
bare.
So that when I tell you
this ******* hurts
you know I mean it.

truth is, I swear more now

R Saba Oct 2013

river water

you were baptized.
i'm sure of it.
you're so clean,
so smooth,
so
nice
and i love it.
but i'm not going to touch you.
i don't mind the distance,
the lack of electricity;
it's just the idea that's taken me.
touch this,
touch that,
run my hand along your jawline
and feel imperfect stubble,
loving the realness;
for real perfection is not perfect.
that makes you perfect
in both senses of the word.
it's just the idea that amuses me,
the thought that i
me
could actually do it,
affect you.
unfortunately,
you don't affect me,
not like that.
it's just the idea that you exist,
and that try as i might,
i don't want this.
i'm all scribbles and worries,
one too many cups of coffee,
one too many sips of crazy,
and crazy is as crazy does;
i need someone to understand.
i'm sure you were baptized,
all clean and pink,
that's nice.
but where i come from,
we swim in murky river water
and i like that
a little too much
to ever be totally clean.
*whatever

pretty boys: not my type, but the thought is there

R Saba Oct 2013

Where I Started

I don't feel
present
in the moment.
Looking from the outside in
and yet
trapped
inside my body.
Handwriting,
familiar;
voice,
silent;
thoughts,
ignored.
A few steps behind;
a few steps,

and I'm right back where I started.

In this past year I have become dormant,
confidence
invested somewhere safe
and then left behind,
no trail,
no evidence.
Only me.
Now, among these tall trees,
emerging buds
and flowers,
faces tipped toward the sun,
I lie down.
Eyes closed,
I surrender
to who I used to be;
almost willingly,
with an ease that scares me.

And I'm right back where I started.

and that's that

R Saba Oct 2013

Science

"That's a dancing shadow,"
you tell me.
"That's a silent song.
Listen; can you tell me what you hear?"

I guess
I can hold your hand now,
after all this.
So I do.
It's warm
but distant.
They tell me that
no one surface in this world
ever really touches another;
something,
electricity
or air
or energy
will always keep them apart.
Or something like that.
The point is
I can prove this,
for I have held your hand
I have heard your words,
Ethereal,
meaningless to my ears,
but beautiful.

"One more time,"
you ask.
"Where are we?"

"Here,"
I answer,

and this seems to satisfy you.

what a cryptic person. I'm glad they're not real

R Saba Oct 2013

arrival

the moon
glinting
onto the once-white wing
of an airplane
now dusted with darkness
and bathed in new light

coming in for landing
under a sky full of stars

poetic, i know
but this is my arrival
and i want it to be beautiful

in truth, it's mundane
just another passenger
eyes peering out the window
feigning disinterest
after all, i've been here before

in truth, i feel empty
waiting to be filled
like the real part
the important part
will come with time
after all, i've done this before

but this time it's different
and i want it to be beautiful

the moon makes it beautiful

I crossed the country, and I stayed there