a winding road
and up ahead, a dark expanse
of water
it rained recently, and i'm wearing my boots
and for some reason that puddle is just
too tempting
you know that feeling?
it looks like fun
the damp leaves above my head whisper
go for it, what's the harm?
after all, you've got your boots on
so i step forward, confidence heavy
upon my chilled shoulders
and that is when i realize
just how ******* deep this puddle is
you know that feeling?
it looked like fun
and now the muddy water is spilling
over the tops of my boots
and my feet are swimming
in stale rain
and it sounds stupid, but i feel like i'm drowning
and the dead brown leaves on the rough cement whisper
now you've done it
you're in too deep

and i try to let go of your hand
but something stops me
some casual phrase, a few words
stitched together
and the thread tugs at my skin, saying
what's the problem?
we'll fix you
and i read the words again
realizing just how human everyone is
and feeling excluded
i don't get it
except maybe now i do
and i try to extract my arm
from around your waist
but something stops me

and the crooked bare branches above our heads whisper
now you've done it
you're in too deep
and the water is so ******* cold

late night talking, but i can't tell
if i'm talking to myself
or to somebody else
and everything i say is either real
or just rhyming with reality
and to be honest
i don't know the difference anymore
i'll tell you, in words
overflowing with the truth
spilling out through the cracks of uncertainty
falling to the floor as lies
because
this is how it feels
and it feels like the only truth i've ever told
the rest is false, but at least i can tell you
that before the words left my mouth
they were flesh and ink and blood and water
alive and kicking, swimming
stabbing little things
but there's something about the night air
or the sunshine
or the real life, i don't know
whatever i'm missing, it affects them
like putting them in brackets
(emotions become afterthoughts)
like adding quotations
"this was said by someone else"
like ending the sentence
there are no more true words.

explain to me the difference
between open and closed
negative and positive, for i am told
that it is negative to be closed
and yet being proactive, a positive person
i am shut down, and fine with it
sometimes
i give in, and i open
some small window
every once in a while
somewhat drunk, under some influence
and i give in to the theory
the convention
that it will make me feel better to do so
so i do
and instead, i feel
different
that’s all i can say, as the breeze drifts through
the rift i have made
and the air is cold as it touches my veins
and i want to close the window again
but the glass is broken
and i will never be the same

a jewel of a lake, hanging
from a rough gold chain of stars
summer air and midnight sounds
quiet water, echoing
loud beneath the old wood
bare feet touching sand, pockets
filled with pebbles
i sat down
eyes closed
and i felt my heartbeat

i opened my eyes to grey
to rain, to fog, to half past autumn
soggy leaves on the cracked cement
and the lake and stars only a lament
playing in my ears, fondly
saying goodbye
and i thought i would be still
i thought i would be calm
empty, sitting here
among dead trees
but i looked to my right
a familiar face
and i felt my heartbeat
missing summer less and less
each day

playing cards, flinging numbers on the table
conversations leading nowhere
and i sit on the outside, watching us
and analyzing the game
i see your head tilt, i see your mouth crack
wide open and speak
and i see the words, read their shape
and watch the colours fade in the air
to match the grey of today
and i wish that i could reach out
and touch them, try to brush
the colour back into your voice
but instead
no matter how hard i try
the words are stale, the cards are bent
by the time they reach my ears
and land lightly upon the inside curve, soft and dark
still nice, still present
and i guess i don’t mind the lack of colour
besides, i know that if i really wanted to
i could move closer and catch the words
catch your voice
as it leaves your lips
and intercept it before it can fade
taste the colours instead
and it’s nice to know i have that option
so i stand here and watch this interaction
watch the card game, hearts and spades
and analyze each move
black and red and white
and colourful
just waiting for the game to end

hold your tongue, i said
i'm tired of these bleeding words
and i passed you the gauze
slipping my fingers through the maze of your palm
and out through the cracks
hold your tongue, i said
i want to feel these words instead
pretend i am paper
and bend me, press your lips
to me and whisper the letters
and i will fold myself over them
hold your tongue, i said
i love the noise but i love the silence more
just the sound of me
drinking in those phrases, swallowing
air as i try for more
hold your tongue, i said
hold my waist, catch the words
as they drip down from my forehead
sweating ink onto my shoulders
use the silence to soak up the meaning
of each and every one
hold your tongue, i said
and the words will come, riding
upon waves and i will swim
with you to dry land
give me your hand, and i will guide your pen
down along my spine, across
the sand dunes of my shoulders, through
the space between my collarbones
let the ink bleed into my hairline
let the words sink into my skin
as i let you mark me up, graffiti
in the best sense of the word, badass
but secretly
hold your tongue, i said
and take my hand
pretend i am paper
unfold me

there's nothing like being wanted
to keep your spirits up
for a day now, or more
i've been smiling, and today i found myself
noticing things that don't belong
i saw icicles under a warm sun, dripping
back down into the earth in shame
i saw a streetlamp, still lit at noon
and its light was orange and dark against the sky
but i did not see myself
turning to look at that space in between
this place and the world outside
the train window, taunting me
with an almost-reflection, my eyes hollowed out
to make room for the sunlight
and i realized
today i am noticing things that don't belong
and i belong
so i stopped looking for myself, and i was found
beneath that useless streetlamp, waiting
for the icicles to melt away
and they did, leaving me calm
and on dry ground
there's nothing like being wanted
to keep your feet moving
to keep your spirits up
to keep your eyes open
for a day now, or more
i've been smiling