statisticians, assistants to quack physicians & staph-blind clinicians

Is it possible to be engulfed within yourself?

My insides are an ocean.


If I could, I would float away from all this nonsense
dancing to my heart's content on the cloud that flew me out of here
reclaiming my boldness, fueled by the bits of light scattered about,
rays of golden-ness spelling "forget, forget, forget it all"
dancing on my eyelids, sculpted sunrise, salty tears
"please, just feel this moment and be a part of it."

Please, just feed me back my feeling
Please... cry, wholeheartedly.
... What even is this beautiful world without the emotion that keeps it spinning?

Love is golden light on pine trees. Love is a clear river.
Love is your fiercely beating heart. Love is full immersion.
Love is rawness.

Please, tell me how to find that in this vending machine.

Tell me if you see rainbows when you're on the treadmill,
please teach me how to be human when so much of this world is telling me to be a machine.

Tell me how to forgive myself for choosing my brain over my heart?
For sitting still when my bones want to run and jump and dance and swim.
For forgetting how to play!

Forgive me for the woes of the world, for the things that I can't change but still feel the weight of. Forgive me for consuming. Forgive me for hurting. Forgive me for not giving homeless people money. Forgive me for my selfishness, for my biases, for the mistakes I make over and over again.

Forgive me for my humanness...
And most of all, help me reclaim my humanness.
For love is the most human thing I know, and I'm struggling to feel it.

[because not everyone understands what i mean,
though it's obvious to me]

when i say
"you are beautiful"
the meaning
depends on the
[context]
if you know
(and everyone around you knows)
you are a striking
shining
beautiful woman
then i mean,
"you are beautiful."

if you are a person
that has just
spilled their guts
their art
done some
amazingly selfless
act
then i mean
"you are *beautiful."

however,
if i'm speaking
to you*,
and i say
"you are beautiful"
i am saying it
in a
g a l a c t i c
                      |cosmic|
(cellular)
e l e c t r o n - like way

i am saying
that thoughtful look
that comes across
your face
lives in
my heart

i mean
that when i see
your body
i
temp
orar
ily
lose
my
breath…
and my first instinct
is to pour
glitter gold glory
over
you
which would
bring me to tears

when i say
(those words)
i mean that
your neurons are firing
in perfect time
that every decision
you make and
emotion you
reveal
is
right

for you alone
- these words -
s t r e t c h and
enfold
and include
trust and love and
judgement
without these
[there is nothing solid]

i don't call you
an     a i r y    beauty
or a flameless cute or
a lone handsome
your brain connections have
shown themselves to
be level
calm

you are beautiful
because i said i
wanted to give you
something
    and you said
       you already had everything
  and i knew in that moment
             that you meant those words

you are beautiful
because your voice
was made for me alone
to hear my name being said…
   so that it sounds like a drum

you are beautiful
in the blue
        of your eyes
   and the little part of
      your ears
the corners of your mouth
   the softness of
your hair
the hardness of
              your thighs
   the strength in
    your arms
the sureness
          in your chest

my beautiful one
i only want you to know
    that since i found a
beautiful
      cosmic
   ethereal man
like you
  i want you for myself
      i want to show you the way

if others have failed
   to see you for who
you are
     then they are
vile creatures, indeed

when i say
you are beautiful
   i mean i see the creator
                  in you
       the spinner of reality
   who deftly grabs his
warped or broken world
         and shapes it anew
without leaking dark bitterness
onto others
      while plucking strings
   and summoning images
            from the wild vastness
of imagination

you have caught my
eye     my
      ear      my
            body
wild one

in your presence
i listen and i connect
       i watch and i remember
              i feel every touch to the core

in the stillness
these words bombard me

because i could never
say this to your face -
   i would sound
    like a silly
          over-emotional
                   unstable
girl.

so instead i lamely say,

"i really like you."
"you are beautiful."

but believe me,

i am no girl.
i am not silly.
i am not over-emotional.
i am not unstable.
i am simply a poet.

i see, i feel, and the words come.
these words are true and rather
   un-emotional at times
        more like scientific facts
being fed from the environment
     and filtered through my senses
             my brain
                     my chemicals
and spit out in
data called poetry.

here is the data regarding your beauty.
interpret it as you will.

"Tell me a secret."

I cannot *** with my eyes open. (Especially when it’s with someone)

"No way."

I still believe that one day you’ll tell me you love me.

"Why not?"

When I’m driving, I imagine swerving into the other lane. I imagine what color your eyes would be when you find out.

"I can’t."

I cannot let you inside my anatomy anymore, for twice is far too much. Your touch creates asteroids, and I am struggling to place layering upon the craters.

"Tell me a secret."

*Your eyes are still supernovas.

a day of chalk
and bruises.
your strength is flexible
I am curious how much
effort I have lost in thoughts of greatness
rather than making that greatness reality.

words have me in their throat
I can't help but scream with them.

I didn't wake up last night, not once.
It was a miracle and I woke up to blood,
which was also a miracle.

I threw cotton on my back,
I got caught on the door ****,
I thought I taught myself how to move,
guess not.

I sorted bottles from lowest to highest
I sorted ideas, just the same (how useful).

Using my tongue seems inevitable today
opening my throat, I'll talk to myself while I look others in the eye.
I'll let them know how I'm doing in robotic undertones
and wish I could bring the real conversation out every time.

It's too personal to know how someone really feels. It's too dramatic.
Love & ignorance & arrogance & waiting & chasing & giving up
trying to get over what you can't change,
about others & about yourself.

If this and because of that and you should have because I couldn't
and backwards again because I keep forgetting to breathe through the stress
that I inflict upon myself, so I choose another infliction and risk an infection.
You're not a disease but this won't last forever. I'm feeling like a tug of war tease
that can't stop begging for attention, although I can't seem to hold my own.

I've got a key to an open door and yet still I stand
with my frame in it's frame wishing for another
frame to place myself in. Maybe even hang myself,
suspension at it's finest. The elevation of my image might **** me,
so I'll save that trick for the dead and wait my turn like everybody else.

Take my number and count me out
ring me out like a wet rag and then
let me try and help you in other ways.

The graveyard was twilight and the fox was silent.
I was chalk-based chemicals, caffeinated and drinking, still.
He was worried about the unborn, our talking was a storm.
Emotions running wild through my speech, I wanted to shut up
but couldn't help speak. That happiness got me laughing, and it
got him a little too.
The madness was my walk to the car
but it didn't end when I got there.  

I kept on thinking like I like to.
I kept on talking like I like to.
Then I fell apart
because the most positive fact
that I will be alone forever.
The small pieces of chapped skin
which I ate off my lips
soon became a reflection
of how although I'm not always okay,
I will be after a good amount of pain.
Something shy of heartache shouldn't fall so deeply
for someone whose attention is so easily caught by
the seemingly unimportant. Something shy of heartache
shouldn't pay so much attention to the moment when
they finally hit the bottom of that abyss they fell into.

Something shy of heartache
and I'm turning into a ghost,
a shell of a baby that has the
ability to speak with knives
even though they're too afraid
to hold them, because they know
they'll just hurt themselves like forever.

I want to shut up about forever and give myself now.

I'm feeling lonely and I'm feeling raw, keep making fun of me.
I want to crawl back into the blue from which I came,
where everything was dark.
Ever since I've seen this light I've become increasingly more blind,
I'm torn in all decisions, keeping myself weak.
I'm buried in my own self too deep.
It's time to climb. I believe in myself this time, unlike the others (which aren't important).

Success is inevitable.

treat yourself like a lullaby
soft and sweet
give yourself away to the restless
biting their tongues and twisting their bodies
(like I do, 'cause I can't help it)

attraction pulses through poison
I don't want to hurt you
attraction is deluded through conversation
I know your annoyance stems from over-stimulation
and that  maybe if I'm alone then you won't be afraid to be,
or at least if I am then you won't
'cause as soon as I need someone you're there.

here's where I jump from one thing to another
this isn't about you, I know what you're thinking
this is the problem with explaining poetry, or maybe it's just my problem
but I can't hold on to the same point, even if I were to die without one,
and if I were, I'd die screaming, "**** me!"

here is where all things I've never found inspiration in meet
where at more love than hate explains how I'm not alone,
and that after meeting a real-live-manic-depressive
(that I really hope doesn't own a gun)
can help me more than I can help them.

I had *** without love
and realized what a love meant
and the distinction between the two.

Without experience, there is no learning, for me.
without reading, there is no knowledge, for me.
without interest, there is nothing, for me.

caught up in the heart drop of loss,
I decide to learn as much as I can
and not give in to myself,
distraction is paradise, lately.

I know time is just a measurement from the way you looked at me,
the way you held my face, and kept moving no matter how tired you were.
sweet sweat tired breath repetition redemption saliva salvation
I love you, I love her, I love him, I love them
I love me, I love us,
I love all.

whoa there, you're so personal.
you're so jaded, you're covered in attention.
I'm not going to let go just because you want me to,
I'm not going to hold on just because I'm scared,
I'm just going to go in whatever direction I feel is best,
no matter what whoever thinks.
Rebellion on my finger tips
watch out for yourself and I'll do the same for me.

I'll send you sweet dreams while I can't sleep.