hair on me, felt vain.

hair on me, felt extravagant,
foolish. like a curtain of pearls
that i must s-weeeep

                   clink
    clink
                          clink
clink
                ­ .....clink

out of my eyes, what a bother.

hair on me, felt vain.
hair is for loving,
loved, to love, with
length,
and length to be pulled on,
be taut
be supple and silk between the fingers. to be stroked, to come in strokes, to spill
over and tumble and tangle and knot,
and in every which way. from billowy to willowy wisps,

hair on me, felt vain.

it made me expect. it made me crave.
it needed to be swept, it needed to be maintained. it needed to be slept with, it needed to be played. it needed to be loved. and i had no love to spare, and especially no love to be gained.

hair on me, felt vain.

glimmering, shimmering, even when wet in the sullen rain. there was a yearning. a yearning to be made. a yearning to be touched. a yearning to become--

yes, you were beautiful. even wet, in the sullen rain

--something else, something more

beyond me
in that sullen rain. i turned, expecting nothing, perhaps even worse.

but there I saw, in the puddle,

you framed my face.
subtle, like petal. my cheek
rested in the crook of your
arm like perfect.

all
too
perfect.

I had to let you go
and so

snip
        snip
                 snip
snip
           snip
                     ....snip

i cut you away
piece by piece
like an unsatisfied lover

(we loved, we loved, it wasn't, enough)

each snip resounding,
each snip more definite

(we loved, we loved, but it wasn't, enough)

you fell away
the way winter falls away into spring,
spring falls away into summer,
summer falls away,

you fell away and i almost despised
how beautiful you looked,
there on the floor

in death, in defeat.

but that made me all the more certain,

you were not for me. even in death.
even in defeat.

hair on me, felt vain.
hair on me, felt extravagant.

hair on me, demanded love
and i would have none of it.

it's a big, dull throb out there
and there i am, thronging through the thick

we collide, ricochet, burst in each others' peripherals
we tangle and untangle, mesh and unmesh
our limbs, our lines of thought,
our lives, stuffed into one-liners

we pass by,
shoulders thump like halfhearted tongues and
barely parted lips, out drips a single glob of 'morning
and sinks in the air

our lives are too heavy
we continue to fall through the gaps
we cannot stop
we continue to fall through the gaps
our collision was at best
arbitrary, negligible, in the expanse of our lives
in which
we continue to fall through the gaps

why do we knot our fingers when we'll eventually die
why do i hold that gaze of yours when you're only passing by

as the apple falls from the tree
and hits the ground,
with a dull thud
her head hit the ground
and lolled to the side and i could see
the bruises on her somber little face,
what impressionable youth,
what delicate youth we carry on our branches

if i look up at the sky

(or if i sit in the folds of my own stomach
for too long and i begin to feel like a soft and lukewarm watermelon)

i begin to think of tears that formulated but never really made it

and i wonder what's worthwhile

music is worthwhile
art is worthwhile
words are worthwhile
some people are worthwhile

and for that i might just stick around awhile

i laugh lion's heart
loping street by every stride
claw clattering cobblestone conviction
chest puffed out and head held high

climbing fences and
kissing dark breakers

all that, because i am afraid

so afraid so very afraid so very very afraid and of what, you may ask and i will say everything, EVERYTHING! in a roar akin to a king

but between colorful plumes i am
small, so very small
and so very afraid

would you like a cup of coffee?
would you like that with milk? sugar?
would you like me to be your coffee table?

sometimes i wonder whether i
make you coffee
dust the dustless windowsills
and run water over wet dishes

to justify my being-here
to justify my being
to save me from myself

Do I make sense?
I’m speaking but
Can you hear me?

It seems like I’m speaking silence
I suppose I am since, wait--
Do I make sense?

My words are easily misinterpreted
Even now, you’re listening but
Can you hear me?

Tangled tangents taken
From the context of my mind
Do I make sense?

I don’t. Of course the sound waves are reaching you
Still, I have to ask again to be sure
Can you hear me?

L’appel du vide is all I hear
I want to know you’re not the same
Do I make sense?
Can you hear me?