it's always an ocean
grainy and washed by the sun
seafoam floats light as your laugh

rosary beads left on the beach
while the salt rolls in from the hilltops of *****

and when i breathe in i can taste the sweet smoke
and your perfume reminds me of the desert

exhale and dance in the brine

if i'm being honest with myself,
i am always scared

i am scared that someday i will trip in the
school hallway with everyone around, and
i am scared that my family will stop being able
to take care of ourselves. i am
scared that a third world war will erupt and
it will start two streets down the road from me
and end in my front yard

i am scared that one day i'll convince myself
that nobody really loves me, and, even worse, that
nobody will be around to tell me otherwise. and
i am scared that i'll drown at camp this summer
and i'm scared that if i don't, i will want to

i'm scared of needles and feet and airplanes
and on especially bad nights, i am afraid of the dark.

mostly i'm afraid that i will never stop living my
life on the brink of a panic attack, that i will always
back down from a fight, that i will never learn
to speak for myself, and i am scared that i will never
become anything more than this

i will cut out pieces of paper with the letter K-I-S-S written on it
than actually torture my body after physically kissing you
because sir you
are '
magenta.

a color revolving so deeply with in my veins
i am not saying we are one because you sir
are
magenta

a colour ravening with lure and mystique
but if i allowed you to kiss and kiss my breath to open places
i would become an expert
a know it all
because i would discretely feel your lips on mine
as you pronounce volcano, muscles, performance
and just like that
you would be the......

the things i avoid constantly in my head
and now i allow paper with K-I-S-S
allow you to understand that i want you.

Once upon a time
I carried a corkscrew in my teeth
and tiny feathers leaked out
every time I whispered.
I wonder where the time goes
when you’re not cleaning out the shower drain;
all my hair collects in my pocketbook.
The barista asks for change
and all I can produce is pen caps
and an expired ****** I found in your glove box.
An ocean stands on two feet before me,
all this leather in my hands,
but I’m pierced by the clockhands
I saw in the lines around your mouth.
Tiny feathers leaking out.

i am seeing beyond your parallels, the routine you
are living in discontent with the way you are strictly
forbidden to be unbridled, so i blinded you to my
antics, because revenge is either clean or messy, but
i like to leave traces of myself in everything i touch
this is my revenge, watching you from my hindsight
as similar as a dog, and remembering what it was like
to be denied my robust but brass voice, and as the alcohol
drips off your tongue, i remember you aren't a drinker
you only drink during contemplating angry thinking,
the alcohol washed over the bridges that led to my heart
and i lit them on fire with a snap of my fingers, and
i watched you fall out of yourself, like a spirit that was
released as soon as i denied you entrance to my soul
you ruined the very best parts of me. i used to be normal.
i know there isn't such a thing as normal, but i wasn't
waking up from dreams thrashing and screaming how
you are a vulture, picking at my skin and destroying me
and all i ever wanted was to find my happy place, but this
is not happy and i struggle day by day crying for solace

- met

can you taste the iron on your lips?
acid reflux creeping up your tongue
as you swallow another soul whole
sweat stains on a pillow
all of this surrounds us
time will tell us as legends or monsters
we aren’t in control of the wheel
tirelessly we maraude the alcoves and nooks
of an indifferent planet
they call the thing we’re looking for love
we call it whatever gets us through today
but if this shriek of pain sets your teeth on edge
just know that it should
just know that even the smallest island
is connected to the most landlocked country
through an underground railroad of humanity and history
the bedrock is constantly shifting and warping
but it’s key elements remain eternal
tattoo my address on your forearm
should you ever find me lost you’ll know what to do
with the baggage I carry like heartbeats in a ribcage
do not burn the bridges
regardless of how rundown they might become
do not convert drift wood into an idol of the sun
because time is relative but the moon will always have it’s moments
eclipse your protests with apathetic motor oil
manifesting the robotic machinations of another man shackled
tethered to anchors which set out not to drown him
but to keep him on the precipice of high tide
all of the great words in the world couldn’t paint a picture
of what this all means
so why do we try so ceaselessly
to see the face of God

i learned that sounds
travel faster through solids
than air, so press
your mouth to my skin,
tell me stories of the places
you were scared to have
been, i'll try my best to
understand, and with all that i am,
i will listen