My life is a latent dream
controlled by
consciously
unconscious
emotions
recognizing but not absorbing.

I mimic the complex partial seizures.

In and out.

Fifty percent of the acceptable me can’t breathe
Twenty five percent of me functions for you.

I look down at my hands
and see my fingerprints

every night.

They're different

every night.

Something so familiar yet unfamiliar
traps what happens in microscopic ridges
every time I touch you, making them
unique to my thoughts
whenever they conform to your figure.

Not confident about our ever changing existence –
a demonstration of life.

I let you slip through my fingers
As every day yours began to slim
And the puzzle pieces that fit perfectly began to float away like melting ice caps under the Alaskan sun
And I wanted to hold you a little longer
But all the while I felt you absorbing into death like spilt coffee in a washcloth
And bit by bit I watched the sand of your hourglass slide to its end

You always told me you couldn't be scared because heaven was real and you kicked the devil sideways years ago
And for your sake I hope he stayed down, and for your sake I hope you were right
But these days it feels like he's standing up, holding his side, coming back for revenge
He's got his pliers out and he's coming for my soul and I'm kicking I'm fighting I'm screaming
But I'll never be as strong as you and I never learned how to keep afloat of my own sin
So now I'm sinking

And I sit and listen to them speak in artificial intelligence
And wonder how they've kept the devil down
Do they stand on his back and scream "You can't have me now"
Or has he just lost interest like I have?

When all sounds are lost and I've made enough tissue paper thin excuses to stay alone for a few hours, I picture your smile, cloaking me like warm candlelight
But you know the wind came years ago and now it's a flickering warmth
I remember your fingers, skeletal now
And I hope you were right
I hope our slender fingers meet one day
But for now I will feign strength and grind my fears to dust with a mortar and pestle
And for the time being
I cannot look at my own hands
For fear that they be bloodstained

To walk until this gradual curve gives out-
Or to walk until the point where "up"
is sideways

and jump.

I'd fall for countless hours
pass all the stars and waywards
who, like myself
couldn't walk a straight line in broad daylight
I'm too sober
and too addicted to vice
I'm a pincushion of anxious
and when the tension releases,
explosions shake my achy feeble frame
or just plain mistakes get made
I feel like I can't handle life
I feel like I can't cope
with even the slightest feather's poke
I feel useless
a self-destructive nuisance
who speaks grandiose
and uses words like verbose
but couldn't tie my own shoes
-note that these don't have laces-
or might miss a bus cause
"**** look at those clouds"
or
"man, bees are super weird"
and meanwhile I'm crashing through china shop two.
I'm a bull without horns,
ever bitter, never scorned.

so I'll walk in silly circles
until this curve gives out.
I'll walk until I'm back where I started
and change course
I'll walk until my own head makes sense
I'll walk until I feel like I have enough room in my body
to contain me.
I'll walk until my legs give in
and my shoulders slump forward
from exhaustion or boredom
I'll walk until I figure out there is no
"up"

and jump.

I'd have to be dead
to let you back in my bed
Your voice is the last thing
I need stuck in my head

don't kiss me in the morning
with coffee on your breath

don't rest your shower drenched
head on my thighs in the middle of the day

don't run my ***** hair through your fingers
at a quarter to two in the morning
and tell me that i'll be okay

don't light my cigarettes
             don't drive my car
                             don't use my cellphone
don't read my poetry
                        don't sing to me
                                             don't laugh with me
           don't tell me about your mother
or your father or your sister or your brother

              and don't you dare cry
                            don't cry under the stars
                                or on the stairwell
don't cry in my bed
            or on the roof of your favorite building
                         don't cry because you're happy
don't cry because you're scared
                   don't cry because you're sad or sick or confused
             please don't ever ******* cry

*because i can't fall in love again
it's such an ugly mess in the end