Dimmed lights, yellow aura.
The gentle rhythm of a Paul Anka classic
ROCKING
The baby-fragile atmosphere into a warm
Mood.

Fresh baked cookies
With a glass of whiskey
And a joint to knot it off.
Legs, smooth and airy, resting on her lap.
Head against the cushiony pillow of a
Couch armrest.
TV blarin', bop-bopping your head to your own beat.

A breeze sways through the room, swiping my hair lightly.
Everything is so perfect, it's almost comedic.

I rest my arms on my chest, dizzy on life.
Focused on the future.
And sidewalks.
And watercolor yellow on the pink road.
And black letters- signed forgeries.
And your warmth, ****** heat wafting through us.

Your long, gold waves wiggle as you laugh at my expression.
Jeans taunt and creased, sweater far gone, only you
In your graphic T.


Our hands extend, meet, and we hold tight.
I know,
No matter what they say...
You, my lovely Kylee, are my soul.
Maybe not my soulmate, but my soul.
My every and all.

We'll laugh until our ribs crack, smile until our cheeks bruise, and
Stay up so long the sky looks like the scent of Fuschia.

Because the ecstasy of our happiness reigned.
Because I love you.

-Because-

My mental slip mentality; thoughts and feelings in the 'flesh':

Slamming head on a metal board of bunk bed mass,
Body in a cold sweat of hyperventilation,
Hyperbass flute of a banging heart; Brass knuckle BUMP THUMP.

Ribcage rattlers!! Running for the communal like an athlete-
Legs a gelatin mold of fabricated lies; Sliced as unevenly as the cursive words that spell "Hell No! Run!".

Fight or flight-ing the oxygen entering your lungs-
Baby girl slow dancing into an acrobatics show,
Flips and whips of cardiovascular hyperactivity
WHEN
My heart even glimpses at what it once was!!

So scorching flames of liquid lead
Drip through bathroom faucets, fogging and filming over it ALL...

My nightmare is scratching at my skin!!
Crap... ****** finger breaths when you understand.

Head in hands
Sobbing your oxygen back into your lungs
Icy air from windows
Blending with the muddled confusion of other campers
And the fog of every scorching faucet
Wrapping me in a tense comfort.

Inhale, exhale.
Don't touch me.
Can't name me from the crowd of children in your wake..
I'm a loaded gun,
****** nails
for
Eruptive violence.
Known as the mental one.

The gradual silence of other showers shutting off
And dispersing of clustered adults and youth.


Finally, you arrive.
This time I'm fully clothed.
Red from scorching my demons
With my screeching, panicked roar.
You calmly float by...
And panic attack central is pierced-

finally.

The beige-blue cotton
and
Light pink sandals
Move close-

Flicking off the shower.
Offering her hand, not to hold, but to observe.
5 fingers, 4 pinks, 3 spotted, 2 lined, and one bent.


Keep it together.
If you falter again, those looks from
CAMP NOWHERE
Will put you in
THE HOLE.

'she', therapist and friend along with them.

(IN MIND)
You aren't crazy, baby...
Just scared.
So, SO scared.
Of yourself.

Count
What you can see.
5
4
3
2
1

Sooner or later the fire that i love about you is gonna turn my heart into ashes.