Floating
Spanning
Sprawling
Between Worlds
Hands and feet gripping corners of places
While most of  me hangs in space
Brushed by breezes
Cooling shiver
Quivering I lose my grip
First on one world then another
Curled ball-like
Collapsing through the air
But calmer than before
No strings
To bind me to this place
I am without
There is no measure for this moment
Except eternity

Brick by brick
I build a wall
“Mine will be taller,”
I think.
“Mine will be stronger.”
I hear the words you speak
With lips that have lied before.
My expectations are too high,
I will take this blame.
I will shoulder the burden of this guilt.
Built to tear us both in two.
Separated from ourselves as well as one another.
I hate it here.
Inside depressions cloud.
Where air feels heavier than lead.
I the problem.
I the weight.
I the reason we won’t survive whatever time we are given.
I, a waterfall, sometimes a trickle other times a torrent wearing at rocks sure and stable.

I want to pluck you from my memory
Extract you from my minds eye
Where you had lived too long
Now some dark cancer
Before a guiding light
I can’t think you out of my head
And she’s there too.
Along with you, the new “chosen one”
To protege your opinions
Some gullible peddler hoking wares as truth
Less likely hers


So rather than ruminate
I write
In hopes that pen to paper puts you and her in places further from my headspace
To call it sacred
To call it home
A wildlife preserve
Ideals endangered released to explore again
When for an elongated moment
Nothing breathed that was not you

We stretch and blink and breathe in air cleaner now than before
Slow
Slow
To take time to be
To know
I at one with my mind
To observe
To act
To care
To live

When I see your name
A blackness envelopes me
Crushing coal dark
A mine-like tomb
In seven letters strung in some specific order any momentum I had gained halts and crumbles into crystalline shards

A singular moment rings bell-like in my mind
When all I had become became what you saw of me and not I of myself.

In that surrender I shadowed and slipped into a world you made

I became your creation
Closing my minds eye to itself
Closing my heart from itself
Relinquishing imagination for apathy
Living only for the sound of your voice praising your definition of me

I existed
For too long
In ambiguity
In pockets of bliss
More infrequent as time progressed

And now
Free to pursue dream and desire
Find myself caught
By sheer frustration
Throat aching to cry,
I am not second.
I am worthy of time spent
Of openness and honesty
And public displays of affection
Of respect. More than anything.
And it begins with me.
So I will begin.

A tiny cake
sickly sweet

covered in fondant icing pressed paper thin and filled
with jam
or
buttercream
all one word

marzipan
made of almond  
fruit imitating

that yellow, warm, soft, sponge

Eat of me, that you may be filled

small feline
lying dormant
curled in hibernation
waiting for the cold and dark
to melt with springs returning

laughter warms that unlit space
sounding smiles light and lift
eyes meet
atmospheric shift
now is new
now holds promise like a bird
gently and with such awe

no cold no dark
only some star come down
to fill with fire and light
our hearts and minds

You want me here but I don't want to be here
You want me here but I don't want to be here
And it's not your fault I don't want to be here
But I can't escape my head
Til I get out of here.

These thoughts perpetual
This ephemeral effigy of Who I Am
Rattles around my mind
A cycle, a loop, constant, consistent
The way that they see me
Memories real or imagined
Created an image of me
And they're not my own
Well, some are my own.

And it's not that the noise in my head is too loud
It's more like the silence is deafening
And I'm defeated
Before I begin

At some point the record just scratches the needle scratches the needle and scratches the needle which wears out the grooves on the record that scratches the needle.

And I am the record and you are the needle.

And now I am flat and not useful

Nail me to a wall
Make me into a clock on the wall
Then I'll be useful
I'll tell the time
And keep a beat
With the tick of my hand
One every second

Please make me useful.

When I dream
We are still together
Or sometimes together again

When I dream
You smile with your eyes
Or sometimes curse my name

When I dream
I say I'm sorry
Or sometimes I don't have to

When I dream
And you are there
I long to stay

My only One
I stand before you
Open
Heart laid bare
I can no longer think of love
Or lovely things
Without the ache of missing you


I did not comprehend the depth of my mistake


As each day became the next
I woke
Slowly
As if from some dream

In the quiet space between thoughts
I live in a vaccuum
****** into silence

I would spend my life apologizing if I could see you one more time

To see the light of love reflected in your eyes

To brush my lips upon your lips: to feel complete.

Sometimes we hold our own hand in the dark

When its too late to call a friend,

and the hours continue to slow the closer it is to dawn



Sometimes we hold our own hand in the dark

When we can’t move from the bed

And if we did we’d be no better off



Sometimes we hold our own hand in the dark

And imagine that it belongs to someone else

And if it could maybe the rest of us could too



Belong wholly to another person

No more shackled to our own mind

No more the sole source of heat in this bed we find so wide these days




Sometimes we hold our own hand in the dark



Most times we hold our own hand in the dark

who are you, visitor?

who are you,

dream interrupter, time stopper.

An elongated second

           drawn into tangible space

choking my heart on waking

weighted waiting (heavy) for that dream to come again.

Happy apparition take my mind from me

show your face.

I long to skip the waking world and reunite my soul

with that sweet slumbery dreamland.

I love you.

This gauntlet, laid at my feet
Will never rise.
I will look longingly at it,
And act as though I have no hands with which to lift the glove.

While all the time they hang limply,
Feebly pleading for use.
Recalling their old prowess with knife and pen alike,
They attain a sort of swagger in these secret dreams.
But all good things come to an end.
Especially when
You’re attached.

I, their master, crippled by mild intelligence,
just enough sentience,
has

Keep it
whatever you have
for me
Keep it
I do not want it
cannot take it
hardly know what I have
so
Keep it