Handing out wings

like they were portions of God

this narrow asphalt

made by architects of tourism

movers of time and space

reaching out like insane astronauts or genius heretics

breathing our iodine

becoming halogens

the sky moves sideways

dystrophic airwaves

feeble beacons

eerie radio silence

here come more perils from the sky

We weren’t supposed
To come across one another
It was a November breeze
That made us crash into
Each other’s arms
Just to leave us
Shattered in pieces

I set this train a' rolling
down tracks with no stations
knowing a wreck inevitable
of this wild and ridiculous ride
wind in my hair taut expression
flesh stretched across a face
expecting the outcome

soaring
oh ****
crashing
tumbling
speckled glass litters my hair
life flashes before me
blinking yellow and red
roaring
screaming
blood drips to the ground
help
Help
HELP

You're the
Oxygen mask
To the plane crash
That I've
Always been

one day i got tired of swimming
and let the sea devour me
my feet floating
timid
expecting floor below
i realized there was no rock bottom
before the waves turned cold
water entering my lungs
like a kiss not given permission
hands on my body like it was given
to someone who didn't know how to listen
feet being pulled towards a depth that had no meaning
no indication of seaweed
just empty space so full it felt freeing
learning to breathe while suffocating
is something you don't learn until needed
friend once pushed away is greeted
desperation gets you places when you need it
being still will make your mind run away
another cold and empty day
you can no longer feel the waves
until a shark comes along
mind in check
body moves
waves are crashing down on you
and it all feels like a fever dream
or so it seems
until you're onto shore
cough up the water
cause you don't need it anymore
and from that day
you pray that you
will never find your way back
to the ocean

There's something unsettling
about this feeling of loving hopelessly.

My toes
are constantly ready to push off and
dive into a pool that's empty.
It holds no water or promise,
but I get up and jump
again and again.
This is what  reparable souls are made of
Magic, drunken thoughts, and bravery all wrapped in delicate skin.

My mother has warned me
of this feeling before.
and how it ends in tissues and stitches.
But I call her and urge her indiscretion
to my father and her emotions.

I crave the feeling of feeling stuck in your gut,
where your body aches but it’s
wrapped in silk sheets.
Feelings
that consume my mind wholly, constantly, agonizing and yet
I stand on the diving board
ready to crash again.