I, with every ounce of who I am, need you...
               I need you to complete my sentence, my day and me -
     You are always following my thoughts,
                    Knocking on my every conceived notion to be let in -
                                                               ­                                                                 ­     Please, come in...
                 
I, fiercely want every morsel of you -
                       I want you beneath me, on top of me, in front of me,
But...        more than anything...                
                                         I want you beside me...
               Walking with me through this haze of a life together -
                                                          Figur­ing the world out as one,
                         Living a great adventure and setting the world ablaze...
                                                       ­                  All it will take is one word -
                                                               ­         

                                                               ­            Yes.

Wavers it does,
sanity.
It's not so secure,
no.
The spaces between,
the going and the went.
Elongate
sometimes.

Trembles and expands,
the light
in all things.
Stretching my mind
to its limits,
where logic
withers.

Fear saluted at first
the go to
when things are new.
But actually,
this trickling mess
of unknowningness
allows me
to be.

My body is stitched together by the beauty of language, foolish hopes and dreams, and seventeen years of slight displacement.
My child-like finger are formed slightly smaller than expected, attempting to catch my tears as they fall from my tired eyes but failing each time.
My heart beats as if placed a few inches too far to the left, pounding against my rib-cage as a constant reminder of the sea of liquid that rushes through my body with each pump and ***** the size of my fist that sits like a ticking bomb.
My lungs are a little too large, taking in all the hope and inspiration that hangs in the air on a silent winter morning but always somehow finding enough space for a poisonous breath of hatred.
My eyes are a little too far apart, greedily marveling in the beauty of a night sky but failing to see the beauty in four limbs and a slightly-larger-than-average torso.
My reflection is a little too weak, burdened with the weight of aging eyes and a young mind and unable to hold the weight of a simple dream.
Seventeen years of displacement, yet it is now that I learn to take my first steps with my slight imperfections.

My spirit opens like a sunflower in snow
i want some more of what you told me I could have,yet you never let it go.
my attic lair I kept to hide away from
peeping toms.
Paper whispers a secret now a blot on my side.
drawn as a lover but with no heart.

sigh

Fall carries sense of self to brain to work
and find the worth of a grainy sand
to the oceans touch.

still a charming writer did my muse
guess better?

life
does not come from
breathing
alone.

1. to exist: have objective reality or being
indeed, it is the struggle
of life
to discover what
makes us real
or to be a being


2. to exist: be found, especially in a particular place or situation
is it not
the goal
of each of us, as humans
to be found.
in a place where happiness is
drunk by the gallons,
eaten at feasts,
gorging our stomachs:
swollen with happiness

as for me.
i am lost, itching
to exist again. to find my life
i am breathing
underwater.
but
i have no anchor
.
.
.
and
         i      
            will
                     refuse to sink.

Words begin to form in my fragmented mind, swirl around the base of my neck, flutter across my bare skin, caress each curve, absorb the essence of my body and grow larger with each twist and turn.
They gather in groups and beautiful ensembles, singing glorious tunes.
They race towards my fingertips and my hand twitches in anticipation as I bolt to catch them.

Suddenly, moments before my net reaches its place,
these ensembles flutter off my body, race off my fingers,
and fade into the infinite atmosphere.
I face towards the sky and  breath in deeper to catch the essence of any few remaining,
but all that fills my lungs are the heavier words weighed by their sorrow.
Fragmented words
separated from their companions,
left to dissolve
among the abundance molecules and atoms.

So I bow my head and clutch my net, awaiting the next cluster of delicate, glorious words.