lingering in the unsaid words,
    my soul is heavy.
    i am dragging.

you were diamonds inside your darkness
    and i wish i called.
i wonder, with all of the
           unimportance
      hovering around me,
   as my heart rests low,
              still,
              in the love,
              in you.

did you know?
did you know how much we'd drown?

i'm here for you to haunt.

i'm here,
     always,
         in this heavy air,
             where the birds are so distant
             that they are but a memory,
                                    like those of you.

please,
       please,
              please.

                    oh please,
                            i hope you know.

i'm here.
       so please,
               haunt my lonely soul.

If you were still breathing in my universe,
I might see you as a
mediocre
being.

But it seems that, as you are;
uninvolved and out of sight,
I see you as I last saw you -
    a large, black, grimace
    on the face of true self.

Oh, I'm not angry or saddened.
In fact, I'm grateful!

But that doesn't keep me
from seeing all of your negative energy
as it swims around,
******* itself
into it's own black hole.

It's interesting how,
when I first loved you,
I was blind to your darkness.
and,
when I first hated you,
I was blind to your light.

Either way,
I was blind
during all of our firsts.

I do not hate you and I haven't
for some time.

But that grimace
is a tainted memory that,
no matter how many times I cross-examine it,
seems to hold as much truth as you do.

Who knows, really,
     who you are?

Who really knows anyone -
    loved, or not?
    hated, or not?

I certainly don't know you,
and I probably never did.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say,
so I'm just going to talk.

I'll talk about how you remind me of the sun.
And how it's bright;
so bright, that it literally feeds all life on earth
with it's light!

I'll talk about how beautiful teeth are
when they're lined up in a smile.

And how good it feels to be held so tightly
that you're sure it's not just a hug,
but a sharing of everything that you are -
that within that hug is the most accepting love that you've
ever known.

I'll talk about how you make me take apart my life,
piece by piece,
so I can put it back together again,
with more understanding than before.

And I'll talk about how perplexing you are.

About how I've spent far too long trying to shape this
into some sort of comprehensible form.

But then,
I suppose that's you, too.
Always as incomprehensible as you can be.

But, I'll talk about how that's all a part of your charm!
Your adventurous, confusing,
way of living -
wading right through the moulds to find your own shape.

You're all mystery,
but you're all exactly you, too.

I'll talk about how clear it is to me how important you are.

And how I will never share that with you.
Or, perhaps I will.
But you won't know it.

And if you do,
don't think too much about it.

Because, I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say.
That's why I'm talking.

It is really complicated being inside my own head.

There are numbers in there that have
nothing
to do with logic.

There are fragments of memories that
may
or may not
be real.

There are completely intact dreams that
I'm pretty sure
really happened.
Or, at least,
they happened on a
more real level
than what's really
happened.

And then there's this bitter old man
who criticizes my hypocrisy.
And let me tell you -
he is one unforgiving, miserable,
person.

Next to him is this sweet lady
who's always telling him:
"Oh shush, she's doing her best".
But she's often too soft spoken
to really make him listen.

There's this crowd of activists who are
usually
screaming
to be taken seriously.

And a young teenage girl
in the middle of them,
who just wants to be like
everybody else.

Often, she's accompanied by
her older brother who
never
fails to remind her of how
idiotic
her aspirations are.

And all the while that they're
screaming,
and sighing,
and crying,
and keeping quiet,
they are breathing the air of
my mind -

a swirling,
whirlwind of
passion
and fear.

Bring me the moonlight in a glass
Soft and sturdy liquid
Deep flowing magnetized
Colour
Creeping broth
In hazy pattern
Churning in the cauldron
Let me gulp the heavens
And sip away at it's farewells
Silken threads of water
And hot headed fluff
Gathering bits of holes
In endless vast
Moving with my eyes
And with my hands
Reach up and scratch the sky
Reach down and swim

There are words written in the sky this morning.
I'm not sure who they're from,
but they change the way that
I see
the sky,
and the ground, for that matter.
There are words in the sky
and on the tombstone.
Maybe they're his words,
maybe they're his mothers.
I don't know who they're from,
but they've change the way
that I see him,
and the way that I see
us.
The words aren't devoured
by the tree,
nor do they hide behind it.
They're combining,
harmoniously,
somehow.
The words on his tombstone
and in the sky
and the tree
and the ground
have changed the way
that I see it all.
They've changed the way that
I see.

Wind.
Ache -
        Prolonged wrenching ache
               Pulling organs into new
                                                       surroundings.
People
So many of them -
                            murmur, murmur, murmur...

Laughter.
Belly laughter of recognition -

Tears of lost souls
Sobbing of a wanderer -
                                     with frozen eyes

Breath -
        breath of clouds
        of the lakes
                         of the strings as they slide across
                                                                            hearts.

Moved and disconnected -
                               involved and inseparable.
                                                           Unbearably together.

Moving through the motions -
                                             with nothing.

Nothing
but everything to lose.
                              And everything lost.