sand falls around my ears, sprinkled over my shoulders
an impression left as i stand
walking away from the water
walking away from the rest of the day

there are so many things to walk away from, and some days they surround me
but today they are scattered across the lake, stranded in the small waves
and i can turn my back on the shore

it's almost like they've disappeared, at least for tonight

i didn't wear my hat, i know
i should have, but i felt rebellious
in some small way, i tried to cheat the day
and paid in tingling pain, sharp aching corners
and a strange sense of pride in my bones warmed me
until just the tips of my ears were left white, dead
yes, dead
but i felt alive

to be in danger and know it, to press on against the cold
to push forward into the wind, though before you is only white
to turn blindly into the storm, to accept the blizzard's strength
to guess what lies ahead in fear and still take the risk
this, to me
is courage

maybe i'm just talking about frostbite like some romantic wound
or maybe we're in danger, you and i
pressing on into the storm despite numbing fingers
smiles frozen, eyes watery
maybe we'll get frostbite in our hearts
but i think it's worth the risk

i step out
and the rain greets me like a blessing
bestowed by some great silence
i speak to each sunday
and i take this as an answer
because why the hell not

i am suddenly sure i have left something behind
but no, my bag is there
notebooks tucked under my arm
ipod clutched in one hand
phone safe inside my jacket
consorting with my keys
(proof I've got somewhere to go)
travel mug empty, wallet full
of receipts and loyalty cards

finally, pricked by the bent arm of a button
i give up, knowing it's all in my head
and i have everything i need to survive today

still, i feel like something's missing

my right hand clings to my scarf
fingers tight, knuckles white
as if to say
"give me something to hold onto"
and the rain that stings my face reminds me

i have everything i need to survive today
except you

she is no longer human
writhing, shouting, feeling
human
past

i look at her and i see paint
windswept hair sticking to muddied lips
flushed cheeks over pale skin
gilded lids
blink

she is canvas
heavy and sagging
brushstrokes
this way and that
covered

i listen to her and i hear nothing
swirling silence
surrounding stereo sound
breathing into doubting ears
hidden

she is no longer awake
swimming, sighing
through cold water
rough, splintered waves of memory
slap her briefly
before the current pulls her under again
and the rocks onshore call out
faintly
to her floating body
as she lies beneath a blue sky
and lets the water move her downstream
life waves weakly from the bridge
ignored

the mirror tells me i am human
unpainted
loud and awake
but she recognizes the lies
she has learned
to ignore them

shy stutter of a thought
scurrying across rough rock and diving
headfirst into cold white water
so as not to be heard, unlike
the wilted sigh from pinched lips
that draws eye contact then breaks it
like waves upon those stones

syllables soft and jumping
through valleys, over jagged mountains
just to reach ears clouded
with assumptions and a failing effort
to tune it all out
skinny fingers gripping a skull
through wild, upset hair
hands coming to rest uneasily
within each other, still shaking from the strain

or maybe it's the cold that cuts edges
into my shoulders, ties the laces tighter across my back
pinching me into place as i twist inside
looking away a thousand times, and trying
but i cannot unwind, i cannot open myself
to you

i wrote this for you
because i knew you'd never read it

fear rules my words, rules every breath
as i walk, head down, avoiding the rain
that seeps into my hair as if to tell me
i can't escape
i will always have these cracks, these splits
that let the rain and sunshine in
and lately, they've been letting in
too much water

maybe i'm drowning
in the river we dipped our feet in
in the rain that divided our differences
and washed them down the street
the first day i held your hand

but differences are tougher than us, i guess
because they've still found the strength to shade the sky
with charcoal grey and light blue worry
that keeps me up at night
even now that they've finally done their damage

i wrote this for you
just as i always did, honest and rough
because i knew i couldn't say the words out loud

i wish i had, though
because there's not much poetry can do
to fix this now

cheap wine tides me over
as i go against the grain, walk along the side
of the train tracks
and wish i was brave enough
                                          to stride down the middle
wish i was brave enough to admit out loud
that i’d love to just stand there
embrace the black coal smoke with open arms
breathe it in
and never exhale again

and i don’t mean that in a suicidal way
                                                         (i swear)
i just mean the thought crosses my mind
too often not to mean something

there’s probably a word for this feeling
but i’ve got nobody to tell it to

i guess i’m no longer unbreakable

i think this to myself as i look down
at the cracks spreading slowly across my chest
like dangerous veins in the wrong place
as my heart beats out of time
and my breath catches on the words
that try to explain the reason
i cannot speak

i guess i’m no longer hidden

i say this to myself as i step out
from behind a wall of warmth
and winter creeps over my skin once again
just like last year, only this time
it’s actually cold

last winter, i welcomed the cold
as an excuse to disappear into the folds
of a jacket enclosing arms that shut out the snow
like bulletproof glass and denial

i guess i’m no longer bulletproof

because i’m freezing cold, shivering
even under autumn trees and blue skies
i stand, knowing that sooner or later
the snow will swallow me, taking me down
into a real winter this time
with only myself to blame, only myself
to keep me warm

i guess i’ll just have to get used to it

inside, i asked you to speak your mind
and got no answer
as expected, really
since the you that sits at the back of my brain
is usually silent

and i asked you to tell me with your hands
what you think of me

push me, pinch me
drag your nails along my self-esteem
and leave me marks to be proud of, give me war paint
give me scars
do what you will to my body, take what you want
from my words

just leave my mind alone, leave it
to process this all later
after the blood has dried
and the room is empty
and i begin to feel full again

i wanted you to tell me, but by accident
that your mind is just like mine
and i don't need to worry
that when you open my body up
my mind will unfold with it
and you won't like what you see

and so i distract you from my thoughts
with the disposable skin that protects them
from you

what was the weather like when you were born?
your smile displays sunshine, but your eyes
betray clouds, and i know
that day could have foretold the way
the sun shines through the frozen clouds
every time you smile at me
and i guess i'm just hoping
that the sun broke through the sky in the same way
when you arrived in this world
because that would mean we're more
than just temporary weather

i slipped out
into the waves of watercolour
that broke themselves upon the shore
of the horizon
and i disappeared
as they darkened into black

i escaped through the sunset
as words were climbing up my legs
setting fire to my ears
and forcing me to retreat away
from the choking letters and sinking ink
that tattooed all this sound into my skin

at first, the sunset saved me
and the waves that gently hit the dock felt like a heartbeat
telling me that this was how it would always be

but soon, i began to miss the panic
just for the simple fact that it was a feeling
and the sunset had stolen them all from me
leaving me bare, black and stretched high above
unable to land on the ground again
unable to even blink stars down onto the grass
unable to do anything
other than wait for the sun to rise again

but solstice has already passed
and the dark hours grow longer again
and i am pulled thin, veiling a world
that accepts me as the night
and doesn't even miss the stars

shut out the light
shut out the sunshine that reminds me
of how much i will have changed
when i leave this place

i have hardened my skin and my resolve
to ignore time until it favours me again
i can't stop the shifting days, and i don't want to
but i can't hurry them along either
and i need to

basic needs will be met, sure
but you are more than just basic

you are complicated and simple
and everything in between a smile and laugh
that i have memorized and forgotten and saved again
a million times

shut out the light
and take it from me, take whatever you need
take it all before i notice the change
that pervades the air here
as my skin darkens and my smile tightens
and my resolve buries itself deep in the places
where winter still keeps me pale
and you still keep me warm

i'd take a whole summer of this grey sky
just to know you were spending your time
under sunshine

black sky, black road
yellow lines like warning signs
i turn my head away
from those flashes of colour
and look out the window instead
at the grey fields of evening

grey fields, grey grass
bulrushes like sentries
and one bird that calls to me from beyond
as if it understands this feeling

some days it mocks me
other days, it lets me speak
and i hear it often late at night
telling me to dry my eyes
and sleep

black sky, soft wind
that creeps through the netting across my window
and sweeps the salt water from my cheeks
while the coyotes howl, voicing what i cannot
and the crickets play their violins
as if i needed a soundtrack to this

and the next morning, my door opens
revealing brown skin and a summery smile
and when the sun hits my face
i feel the cold embrace me once again
feelings washed from my body and escaping
back to my bed, waiting
for the sun to set and for my body to hit the sheets
and for my mind to remember a day full of nothing

and nothing sinks into my tear ducts, opening up
the river, and i cannot for the life of me
remember why i am doing this, but i am
and the black sky watches without comment
as i take the bird's advice, drying my eyes
and sleeping

the sun rises again each morning
and so do i

finally
after days of dark, threatening clouds
and anxious birds tracing signals into the air
and trees waving back at the lightning
while the thunder rolled around this valley-

finally
it rained

the sun fought against the sky and lost,
instead blazing behind the curtain
and turning the sky a dangerous yellow
while the trees accepted the sepia rain
with defeat

i stayed inside and watched their branches
waving lazily back and forth
as if to escape the rain, or maybe
just to dance beneath it, i don't know
but i knew
i didn't feel like dancing

i felt like dancing
when we were alone in an old building
whose walls echoed the tinny swing music
back at us and whose floors were already printed
with the patterns needed to teach you
the basic formation
and we fell out of place a million times
only to fall back in again

if you were here, i'd take you out
into this rain
and dance until the thunder came back
and celebrate the lightning's wrath
and fall out of formation a million times
only to fall back in again

with you, i always feel like dancing

the sun shines down today
like a lie, as the clouds betray
intent to darken the sky, and i can’t exactly
pinpoint why, but i know that it will rain

i smile bright and wide
like a lie, but i will not betray
intent to return to my bed as the stars blink into existence
and i can’t exactly pinpoint why, but i know
that sometime tonight, those stars
will make me sigh as i realize
that they are not
the same ones i saw with you

underwater, laughing echoes
faces smile and mine smiles along
while the brick wall remains strong
and so do i

break the surface, grab the air
with one cold hand and save it for later
might be needing an emotion or two
sometime soon

above the waves, all i can do
is observe and pretend to exist
while the background consists of the rest of you all
and i am separate
and the only thing i feel
rises up in my throat, hard and painful
and of all the things to surface, this
(crying)
is not the reaction i was hoping for

I do not walk
with anything but a purpose in my mind,
whether false or confined
to dreams.

I do not sit alone, though it feels
lonely, sure, but I am not
forsaken.

Some days, I only hear one voice
and it haunts the cracks in the ground,
seeping up through the soles of my feet
and forming webs around my heart.

And I like being confined
by these sweet strands from far away
as time keeps pace with my feet
and I remember that purpose:
I will get through this.

drying my eyes with the crumpled plane tickets
that brought me here
as the new ones slowly print, inch by inch
and the ink dries upon my cheeks
and the time has been tattooed into my eyelids
ticking away, ticking closer and closer
to the end

closing my ears to the sound of cars
passing by on an open road
as the sound of wheels on concrete presses
into my memory and suddenly
i am in a taxi, speeding towards the last drop
of this city, and part of me is left behind
among the crashing water of spring
and the wood chips of an abandoned playground
and the puddles that we avoided as we ran
uncontrollably down the street
laughing

i am not laughing now, except to appear
alive as the boy who makes my coffee
makes me a joke too, free of charge
and i don’t want him or anyone to worry about me
so my mouth opens a crack, and my eyes fold inwards
and he smiles, placing my drink on the counter
and i burn my tongue trying to drown
that fake laugh

the tickets are done printing
the zipper has been forced
over the gaps between my fingers
where your hand should be
and the puzzle wavers as i pack it, but
the pieces stay together, at least until
i close the suitcase
and somehow, i am confident
that it will remain intact

i crumple the tickets in my hand
in an effort to make them look old
as if the summer had already passed
and i was on my way back to fill my empty palm
with warm skin, soft words and a hard press
of my mouth to the sound of something akin to home

i can feel the push and pull of two places
that have shaped me and are shaping me still
as my body curves around the ribs
and hips of a new kind of comfort
and the stiff seat in this airplane
reminds me that i am never as comfortable
as when i am with you

and i resign myself to sunny months
and warm music
and the discomfort of a puzzle
that is trying its hardest
to stay together

and i resign myself to dipping my toes in the water each night
pulling out the glue from between them
and keeping the pieces together
pressing my hand into the soft wood of the dock
in an effort to shut out the cold air

and i resign myself to the confidence i feel
knowing time will be on my side
when i need it to be

i throw the old tickets in the trash
and slip the new ones inside my passport
ready
to keep myself together

i threw rocks at time
tried to shatter the face of each clock
that mocked me today, but
i was unable to slow the seconds
that pulled me away from you

feeling childish, i gave up
and time paid no mind to me
as the bus sped away
and i walked home, my mind spinning
with visions of plane tickets and suitcases
and the spaces hidden around this city
that we've been occupying all this time

i saw sunshine smiling down upon rough, empty rocks
and a hill sloping steep toward the water
that we sat by
and i saw the places i have yet to show you
and i am so sorry, but the happier i am
the worse i feel
as the days slip past me
and i am always one step closer
to leaving

wondering how you win at love
do you have to wait
until it's over?
what's the victory then
in losing it?

somebody needs to think
of some new metaphors, because
all these tired old scratched-up symbols
lead to dead ends

forget about falling, stop calling it
an end, stop calling it a means
just stop calling it anything
but love

let it describe itself, let it climb
up its own legs, let it be
what you will it, what you feel it to be

let it be what you feel
can't the victory just be
the feeling of holding on
and staying?
losing, falling, calling it anything but
plain old groundbreaking
love
is what it really is

been spending an hour or so each night
convincing myself
that crying is something i never do

but i guess i can make an exception
for you

cold morning, warm heart
and burning concrete beneath feet
that are tired of playing along
to the off-beat rhythm of the cars that pass
covering any other sound

and i contemplate the difference
between the ocean and the sea
in an effort to stop thinking

well, there it goes again
no matter the metaphor, i'm always full circle
swinging back into this pattern
looking for noise, looking for colour
looking for a distraction

distracted from myself, i turn
to speak to empty air, just trying
to start a conversation with less meaning
than the days have been holding for me

give me weather talk, give me politics
give me capital punishment, for crying out loud
give me something to debate
that will not affect me

and i contemplate the difference
between me and my feelings
in an effort to prove that they are
without a doubt
separate beings

cold morning, warm heart
beating away from my chest
as fast as it can

Sometimes I feel
fleetingly
like I am not here.
I feel like a narrator
like a character
in an unfinished novel,
like
like

like an unending street.
Like this town,
like this place-
a collection of lives,
beginnings and ends,
tangled strings
and cracked windows.

Wandering through the small maze
of downtown,
I know the answer.

I need to get out of here.

whiskey drips down into the skyline
and my sober eyes close, refusing to resist
another heavy night
and i wake up drunk on too much sleep
again

this is how it’s been lately, maybe
i’m making up for those three weeks of sleep deprivation
but i think there might be something else keeping me
tied to the bed so late every morning
finally standing up, still tired
and the shadows never disappeared
from beneath my eyes

at any rate, sleep is not doing its work
bringing me deeper down into the sheets
as the morning runs its course
and still i don’t feel ready to face the world

the more i sleep, the less alive i feel
now tell me
is this how it’s supposed to be?

april cut into the city
in long fingernail scratches
of running water and suddenly brown gardens
and the air fell heavy onto the eaves
of houses eager to open their doors

i stepped out and spoke
into a space filled with spring
just trying to hurry things along, i guess
trying to warm the air
trying to clear the path
trying to make some sense of this transition

i stepped out, leaned forward
and spoke
too soon, i guess
because the mercury sank coldly back into the glass
and the rain became needles, the trees thread
threatening to sew winter back into the sky
and the air retreated back
into a dull winter chill
as if afraid of my open chest
displaying december's frostbite
and january's cold words

and i apologized silently
to the city and myself
for thinking winter could be defeated so easily

present
for you, i’d remain standing
long after the trees sat down to rest
and the sun had done its best to make you smile

past*
i realize your presence was heavy upon me
for years, damning praise and sharp silence
like tags poking out from brand-new clothing, reminding me
to cover you up
and worn, fraying threads betraying the fact
that my feelings for you were long past their due date
and i should just throw them away

present
i never threw them away, i just recycled them
somehow knowing that one day
i would find a use for this feeling, a cause worth standing for
and a body that stood in the same crooked way
you are not the same, you are better
than any face i used to hate, or any voice
that used to grate upon my tired mind
love turned to hate
and now the cycle repeats itself again

ears spilling rain, water found
when i tilted my head up and tried to listen
at the wrong time, i guess
but hey, i'll listen to your rain
catch it, absorb it, drink it
and shed it through tear ducts like mirrors
reflecting your weather
you don't have to smile, i'll find some way
to light the wet pavement in front of me
that involves no lies, no "i'm fine"
no way that's going to keep my head high anymore

eyes spilling honesty, feelings found
when i opened them all the way
just for a moment, but it was enough
to let something in, something clean
and *****, small but somehow
it filled me right up to the brim

and now i'm spilling over
with four-letter words
care
or ****
because of the fear
or love
because there really is no other word for it

cars, trees and concrete flip by
like television channels, each one forgotten
by the press of the button
or the slow closing of my eyes as i grow tired
of the still-life patterns
and the constant sounds of humans
interacting with machinery

to tell the truth, it was different before

this morning, the buildings sped past
in time with my music
and i smiled back at the bus driver
sitting down with the anticipation
of standing up again
waiting to step down into that sunshine
waiting to shield my eyes from the sky
and wrap my vision around you

and you never disappoint

this afternoon, though
i sit heavy and sinking
into blue plush, silver metal and damp dust
as i leave the sunshine behind

call me dramatic, but leaving you
feels like the real thing

heartstrings are stretching
words etching weakness into the veins
that spin round the surface of what might be my soul
and the doubt casts bruises upon the changing weather
that threatens to break through
and sever the strings altogether

i don’t need my heartstrings, do i?
i don’t need to be tied down to some feeling
that keeps fading and sparking and blazing
and blinding my eyes to the strength i am losing
i don’t need to be tethered to any safe words
or to careful phrasing of a feeling
that has no meaning without an answer
and yet is never a question

and i’m tired of phrasing it like a question, waiting
for a response to validate my crooked, fearful thoughts
waiting for a yes or a no or even just
maybe
coupled with a smile
and some **** good explanation for why i’m being left hanging
on my own stupidity, time and time again
as i read too much into nothing
and nothing into everything
and i become someone other than myself, ignoring
the way i used to work, always standing by
until someone else went first

i’m tired of going first
tired of waiting in line, tired of buying tickets
to  my own show
tired of being early
tired of running behind
just tired, really

i’m tired of myself, and of the way i deal
with all this, letting myself give in to honesty
and then stitching myself up on the way home
with cold air and a hard swallow of the words
that i regret saying

i’m tired of regretting everything
come springtime, i don’t want to regret winter
stretched heartstrings melting across bare branches
as i am swallowed by the leaves
and an airplane takes me home across three time zones
where i can just forget the whole thing

it's not about luck, you know
it's about reading the cracks in the sidewalk
and taking the route that your heart beats toward
and saying the words that feel right
and reaching out when your fingers itch to
and reading more into luck than just coincidence

i swear, it's all a pattern
sure, we shift like tectonic plates
all over the place, but we are still
when it matters most, time moves around us
and you've just got to recognize that quiet
submit to the current

it's not about luck, you know
it's about reading too much into the little things
and ignoring the big picture
just for a little while

i am an old soul
in young love and out of body
i have ceased to hide

yesterday i was alone and walking down some tunnel
that was the opposite of crowded and yet i felt as if i took up the whole space and more
and my words ran long lines, longer than my normal short thoughts
breaking up in weird places
and then for the first time in a long time my mind spoke with my body instead of my soul
and my voice was coming back at me from the concrete walls
and i realized
i was talking to myself and i was answering myself and even as the conversation continued
i thought, all these times i’ve called myself crazy and now i’m proving my theories right
but there’s nobody here to bear witness to the fact
that i am arguing the existence of my own sanity
and i fell silent only when i encountered another human being and suddenly
i felt ashamed, even though the words i had been saying
were nothing short of some sort of honest truth, and actually
i kind of liked being crazy and i vowed that the next time i find myself
really, truly alone
i’m gonna check in on how i’m feeling
because my voice seems to know me better than i know myself
and i’d like to know myself

feeling like something of a pharaoh
ignoring the pain of crossed legs
and just sitting here, still and trying
to be a little bit regal for once

could i be a royal?
would you listen to me?

i feel like something of a peasant
low down to the ground, but comfortable
being at the bottom

i could never be a royal, really
even i wouldn’t listen to me

8:25 am
“all i wanted was a little love”
says the voice in my head
and the black cord that connects my mind
to somebody else’s words
tugs at my heartstrings too

bright copper sunshine on fast-moving waves
dull glitter of ice over snow
spindly shadows of trees bent this way and that
striping grey concrete and faded yellow lines
slow clouds covering the last of the night
as it sinks into the roots of the day

“keep your hands to yourself”
says the voice in my head
it’s been one song
since i last heard those words
and i keep my hands to myself
and my mind outside
and my thoughts on the objects and values and colour
and not on the things i can’t see

i see a spreading warmth beyond the window
i feel the same thing in my bones
and i am unable to move now, unable
to turn my eyes away

outside, the cars pass by
and the water keeps flowing
and the sun keeps glowing
and it all looks the same, yet the longer i look
the more it changes

each day i look the same, and yet
i know i have changed
like a river slowly warming after winter
like the sun dissolving clouds around it, not with anger
but with something else
like the concrete of the road supporting those who cross it

this morning, sitting by the window
i had the urge to reach my hand out
and i don’t know why, or what for
but it seemed like the right thing to do

but i kept my hands to myself
i know
i am not ready yet

the sun shines crookedly
into the cracks that beat the light
into my head
and i blink away the weather, but only for a moment
as i am temporary
and it is forever
and i feel like forever too when i'm walking down this road
but if i look behind
my footsteps disappear into the melting snow
and i know that i will fade

but how? i feel like concrete
man-made and unmoving
while the leaves crushed into my surface
by rain
are the transient ones

i will remain long after i am gone, if only in spirit
since my mind and my body
have not been friends for a long time
when the time comes, i will cast
that shadow from my skull
and my thoughts will be the weather

if i beat you to it
(i don't dare think that thought, just this one time)
will you hear me on the wind?
will you smile back at the sun?

you know that you're the reason
i can say those silent words
and yeah, it's a burden
but it will be you who makes the sun shine

and now i'm done with that morbid thought

words, make me eternal
let each scrap of paper ***** with my letters
speak the truth, and nothing but
the stupid truth
but is it so stupid?
the truth, to me
is becoming less of a fear
and more of a blessing

and sure, it's still a fear
since the blessing scares me
but the sun has become less of a shadow
and more of a light
and i'm pretty sure that's a sign

i'm pretty sure you're a sign
that i should wake up and go outside

eight hours is all it takes, i guess
to erase the cobwebs from beneath my eyes
and today i kept reaching up
with shaking, caffeinated fingers
to softly press the skin there
and feel the bruises disappearing
as sleep became less of a constant ache
and more of a comfort

eight hours still seemed impossible
and yet here i am, awake and able
to close my eyes without slipping into grey
able to stand up on solid legs
without fear of buckling and falling

i'm just taking it all in, all these nights
that i have spent wisely
because the countdown in my head
tells me that soon enough, i'll be back
to my old ways, dazed and euphoric
as two or three hours try to rub the shadows
away from my eyelashes
and i will once again be painting my skin each morning
into clarity

i will once again be hiding
behind a curtain of half-lives
and half-lies
and i will once again ignore the need
digging dull nails into my palm
to keep myself in sync

i'm just taking it all in, all these nights
that have brought me back to life
savouring each moment
while the countdown echoes in my head
and the spiders are waiting, ready
to spin their cobwebs again

sun shone down
moon broke away
and spring became a possibility

i spent time wandering the halls
of my mind and my body, up and down
my veins
until i found the oxygen

today i dug my nail into the knuckle
of my pinky finger
for an hour
because without the pain
i kept sliding into grey
amid a room of voices
that i knew i had to listen to

and it's ok, i mean the mark is barely there
but that clarity scared me

i think i'd rather fall asleep
than rely on crushing hard into soft
dead into alive
just to prove dead is alive
no matter how it may feel when untouched

and i have been left untouched for days
so when my heartbeat made itself known today
i was afraid, and i wish i knew
why

sun hid behind the clouds
moon ate at the sky
until there was nothing left

all grown up and here i am
a child again

you've taken me back to the easiness
of jokes and meaningless words and smiles
that mean nothing more than happiness

childish tunes of light footsteps
and heavy touch of hand on hand
and cold air burning cheeks bright red
and heaters bringing out the best in our ability
to just lie still and complain
about things we know don't matter, and besides
with you, it's all a joke, it's all a game
and yet there's a seriousness to the smile in your eyes
that pins my chest to yours
and my mind to your words
and it's this combination that keeps me here
after hours, after the walls have been emptied of echoes
and the windows are darkened by cold and near-midnight

with you, growing older and younger
and happier
simple words come to mind
so here they are

let's keep growing together

i make these decisions without thinking
but then again, don’t we all?
there are some things that must be done
on the whim of a heart
or the quiet suggestion of a sudden realization
that the path to take has been cleared

so did i do the right thing?
i guess i’m just not used to opening my mouth
without thought to precede every syllable
and so decisions like these
take me weeks
and this has taken me days of split-seconds
long steps strung together
to make one big breathless change
and i am not left in the wake
of all this, no, i am
riding along

and i know this for sure, a new feeling
of certainty that i missed
feeling alive, occupying my own body
i missed the lack of control, i really did
and i missed the fear

i have grasped this feeling
and made it mine, while it has taken me
by the hand and pulled me forward
before i could ask a second time:

did i do the right thing?

i am cheap logic
bought from a man on the side of the street
who says it's the real stuff, nothing but the best
and i guess you believed him, i guess optimism ran in your veins that day
and i should be glad, really
except you've been tricked, and the man
walks away laughing with your petty change in his pocket
glancing back to grin at your smiling face
as you slip your arm around my waist
and i pretend to be worth it

dress me up, because i'm tired of painting myself
i just wanna hear your description
i like it better than mine
take me out, at least as far as the road
to show me why i usually stay at home

i am a solid shell
this logic has been welded into my surface
and i make sense, just ask anyone
i am a rock, i am an unmoving blanket
i am a hand to hold, a smile to be reflected
i am a solid shell
within which the logic falls apart

too bad wandering gypsies
don't give refunds, eh?
you'll never track him down

be my computer genius, crack this code
make me logic from spinning numbers
make me make sense
make me make sense
make me make sense

keep the optimism running in your veins
i like you that way

felt strong and weak
like a paradoxical spirit
walking between the lines of
yes i do and no i don't

felt like a skyscraper
among all the other concrete mountains
blending in, sticking out
windows open, blinds shut
walls untouched by rain, but
the water still falls in through the gaping frames
and onto the floor
seeping into the surface in patterns of
yes i do and no i don't

felt like a city among many
like one among thousands
like the only one with my mind cut open
like the only one thinking
real thoughts

my real thoughts
have not yet been made material
are they still real?
yes they are or no they're not

all i'm really looking for
is an answer

je ne suis qu'une femme
qui cache un enfant derrière son visage
cette fille qui me tient la main
et qui me suit avec pieds lourds
yeux soit au soleil ou au sol
mais jamais devant elle
et moi, je dois toujours
regarder derrière moi
pour faire certaine qu'elle n'est pas tombé
encore sur la terrain que nous traversons ensemble
ensemble, mais pas du tout
la même personne
je suis une femme, mais pas encore
fini mon enfance

just trying to take each day
separately from the others
maybe then the similar moments
won't run together like muddy water
down the roadside of a week or two
and seep through into the grass
of culminating time and too much rain

trying to pick the hours apart
and keep the bits and pieces of patterns
away from each other
so they'll just stop dancing around me
for now
it's true that they somehow make me whole
but i've thrown logic aside for a little while
just wanna see how the other side lives, that's all
let me do this, i need to justify
myself

can i be justified?
turn me into a philosophical debate
and justify me, prove me as a theory
concrete as an idea
make me an argument, defeat what makes me wrong
teach me myself
and i promise i will learn, just please
make me right

i am not
the sum of my parts

i am my parts, still scattered
and somehow arranged
in working order
fingers scrabbling to sew
the pieces together
into this shambling, smiling mess

i am not
the whole picture

i am the pixels, the sharp squares
of almost-colour
that mean nothing up close
but look ordinary, lifelike
and solid
from far away

i am far away
a million-pixel memory
moving into the whole picture
and fitting in just perfectly enough
to fade into the horizon
as the sum of my parts
becomes just another spark
trying to ignite a dormant soul

hold myself tight
find a new metaphor for loneliness
to symbolically scratch and burn away
find a different voice to speak my name
so i can hide under the covers
and pretend i hear nothing
let me be lost to myself for a little while
make it a treasure hunt
aren’t i worth the effort?

“where do we go from here?”
a line that haunts a million songs
like a small, aching insect
creeping in through the cracks in the lyrics
and spreading its wings to infect the expanse
of music that reaches my ears

do you ever feel like there’s a theme to your life?
some familiar collection of words, some thought
that pervades the space around you
and finds body in the world that follows
your every move
some chord, bright or dire or dim
that resounds in the echoes
in the tunnels you pass through
and sings silently after each word you speak
ringing softly beneath your footsteps
colouring the air you exhale

“where do we go from here?”
the first time i heard those six words
i have no idea where i was
or when
but i remember the thought that came to mind as
desolation
and it made my heart hurt
and i was happy
because i now i could prove its existence

“where do we go from here?”
one day i heard those six syllables
as i often did, above me
tinny and abrupt from the speakers
hidden in public places, among the plastic clouds
and spiderwebs
and i, at the precipice
of some great beginning
felt that thought beneath my step
and my soul sang, it breathed in deep
and i was happy
because now i could prove its existence

“where do we go from here?”
one day i found those words
etched into the notes of some electronic
heartbeat or sellout tune
and i, in the middle of a slow tumble
towards the realization of a loss
of a feeling i had worked so hard to find
felt the emptiness between my fingers
and the ground pressing into the soles of my feet
and the ache once again in my mind
and my heart and my soul
and i knew now the existence
of the feeling inspired
by the downturn of that phrase, six words
that speak to us all

“where do we go from here?”
i thought of this line on my own time
and never knew how to use it
until today, aware of a familiar scent
in the air, i sat down
and faced the six words haunting my ears
and embraced their meaning
closed my eyes and breathed in their truth
felt the confusion and desolation and joy
that seeped into my bones the harder i tried
to join myself with the forever aching phrase
that i now know was written
to describe the way i move through this life
and today, as i walked
with false purpose along the real lines of the road
i felt words pressing sharp into my cheeks
and i turned to you but could not let them free
six words, a simple door
into the patterned floor and closed curtains
of my untidy mind
and so i let the sentence be
swallowed it whole, let it sit in my lungs
a while longer
and i still have yet to ask you

“where do we go from here?”
has there ever been an answer to that question?

a few untrue facts about myself:

i stand up straight, with pride
in my sturdy spine and my upright gaze

i speak loud, strong and faithful
in the value of what i say

i sit here with the knowledge
that these words might make a difference

i know the value of silence
lies in the promise of truth after the silent storm
and i never break my promises

the game is done
the t's have been crossed
and i am on my way home, shivering
at the lack of letters in the sky

but no complaints, because today
i plucked them all, one by one
down from their playground
and stamped them into the paper
of my spinning mind, and then i spat
the sentences out, sour on my tongue
bitter in the air
damp and disappointed on the ground

as the rain tells me that yet again
i have wasted my chances
thrown another good day's worth of truth
away

but no complaints, because by now
i should be used to this failure
i should be well on my way
to looking upwards
with the strength to let some of those letters
slip by me, and the knowledge
that the silence might do me good
within and without, i have no doubt
that i am wrong in my actions
but right in my disbelief

i have wasted my chances
thrown another good day's worth of truth
beneath my feet
but one day, i know
i will wake up
and get it right

when i was young, i knew
(with more belief than i had in my own name)
that i would dance ballet
and i danced ballet, attempting
each spin, each hopeful leap
gaining slivers in my knees each time i fell
and keeping them there, proof
that i had flown

but i fell more often than i flew
and one day, i just knew
(with no tears, only a firm nod of the head)
that someone out there would always fly higher
than i ever could
so i just turned the music up
and let my fingers tap out the rhythm
and to this day i close my eyes
and let the neurons dance inside me
electric current, steady pulse of a bassline
mirroring my heartbeat
inside my head, my feet are light
even to metal, or to some quiet, hollow guitar
i don't touch the ground

and now, still young
i know
(with more belief than i have in any concrete thing)
that in this silly metaphor
we can dance to choreography
or just make it up as we go
and me?
i let the music show me
where to step

it's just a word or two
a few syllables dropped from my mind
turned to slivers on the floor
and i step purposefully, heavily
upon them
so that the shards of myself can be painfully absorbed
back into my bloodstream

in other words, i'll do whatever it takes
to hide those shards from the open air
eyes and ears and even hearts
would never understand my language
so why try?

and now my blood is contaminated
with my own wayward thoughts
haunting my veins, trying so hard
to drift back up into my soul
and are they poison?
are they foe or friend?
am i my enemy or can these thoughts defend
my own fine line
between insanity and just another roving mind
the tightrope quivering in the cold air
i am always one step away
from an accidental leap into ice crystals
and sharp snowflakes
and another reason for all these stares
strange looks, imagined or real
pierce me like no arctic wind
could ever do

am i my crutch or my own splintered bone?
sunglasses or the blinding light?
the question or the answer?
truth or lie?
lie or truth
or both
or none
or just confused
or crystal clear
or muddy water, near the bottom
sinking down into thin air
and cloudless skies
and sentences that make no sense
and metaphors defying science

do i defy science or reality?
or am i just a monster of the two
born to question without end
born to close my eyes again and again
and write words into my spine
to keep me upright
in my dreams

eyes and ears and even hearts
would never understand my dreams
so how could i?