i wonder if your silence is saying something,
about me?
or if you just forgot to talk.
some affliction of the mind
or the body:
temporary paralysis, night terrors.

i always read a lot of thoughts out of nothing,
becoming reality,
becoming arguments and hatred or
the bright coloured graffiti
that means nothing.
the places you go are not here or now.

you wrote that it was not a good place,
your smile
obviously not one of happiness.
more a relief at finding me again.
but I followed you
and now we are both lost, or chasing something.

you can talk of ******* like it's a joke,
and i wonder at the poor blokes who mean so little to you
i mention *** like it's a secret,
but no one knows my secret and no one notices that i hide
need to keep a lid on the dark,
better to be frigid than afraid of myself
i figure i'll be able to laugh one day,
when the wounds have been opened
and years have passed,
when *** is passe, when ******* is just *******
and i don't know if i'll be myself on that day,
or someone else.

once there was a house where elephants walked
but we would sit on the stairs and watch
giggling at the breaking furniture
kept us warm like a comfortable shower
sneaking to your place just to use your soap
despite the long highway between us
summer nights bled into winter sheets
something about school kept us on edge
waiting for the lightning to flash or
our thoughts to be broadcast on the p.a.
i learned all i could about chemistry
you studied hard for keeping up
we fell behind, of course, too wrapped up
and i drifted into losing language
or losing the one you used anyway
living in a green house rather than blue
and there were no tears or endings
just elephant memories and sunflowers

head, neck, shoulders
arms, hands, fingers
finger joints, finger nails, finger tips
letters, keys, keyboard
circuit, wire, electricity
plug, converter, signals
addition, subtraction, memory
input, processing, output
light, heat, display
blinking, moving, typing
patterns, eyes, images
storing, matching, thinking
reading, writing, creating

rome wasn't built in a day
except quality can be reduced
and no one will give a
****, just buy another one
rainforest cleared but where
everyone lives/dies elsewhere
and trees will come back
dangerous things anyway
ready to fall on you any moment
everyone knows that, plastic
and metal are better/stronger
don't rot or grow lichen
reach for the ground not the sky
earth provides all our needs
all our stuff, we need so much
dangerous to go alone

if i could do what i loved, i'd have time to create and time to play
and time to rest and time to be busy without feeling busy.
if i could be myself, i'd have space to love and space to laugh
and space to cry and space to **** and be ****** like there's no tomorrow.
if i could be honest, i'd have close friends and close colleagues
and close family and enough real people that they'd make me real too.

no.

no one has time for everything and everything balanced.
if i could be perfect i would be perfect
doesn't everyone wish to be perfect?
but every disappointment and fear makes a richer tapestry
every loneliness and heartache makes a better listener
every slight and loss makes a stronger heart and mind

no.

not richer and stronger,
damaged and struggling,
hopeless
[    ]

empty space on the computer screen
pulls out words from my heart.
totally wrong words, feelings i didn't mean
to think, or feel, or
feelings i thought were long gone
my heart is not yet digital, not yet able
to put logic in the driver seat
and the craziness is driving me nuts.
i didn't know i was.
if i see what i feel in the words pouring out
if i can neaten the mess
surely clarity and honesty are good?
clear as pain or heat or
feelings i thought were
gone?
no, they fill me and burn me and ***** into the day
my skin wants to tear itself off
why does silence start to scream?
empty rooms flood with dark?
writing is dissecting, peering into the depths
of biology and nerves and life.
a logical eye labels the mess and it is no longer a mess
but i'm still afraid of what i did
of what i am in the empty spaces.