this is what it feels like
to hold your life in your hands
and feel beneath your skull
a trigger and stand—

you stand because we all stand,
and we stand because we're living;
i stand because i have it all
but it's hard to keep me breathing

and you can feel your heart beat
to the rubatosis of your fears
that shaking, pounding beat
that no one seems to hear—

that shaking, pounding fear
to feed all of your tears,
that numb and hollow smear
on your heart's inner ear:

because there's nothing quite like
nothing to hold you still in place
when you're shivering and quaking and crying
and lost—drowning—in outer space.

A feeling of warmth
Running throughout my body,
Leaving me craving.

I’m supposed to write you a poem,
About the love I have for you,
I’m supposed to write you a poem,
About how you make the sky blue.
But that simply is not true.
Saying your smile makes my stomach churn,
Or that my heart is tightened by a string,
For all I care, every one of these words can burn.
Because my love, they would not describe a thing.

You see Mon Amour, I am not very good with words,
Yet I feel that would not help anyways,
When I see you my voice flies away like the birds,
As I’m stuck with my mind in a daze.
My heart begins to pump, as adrenaline hits,
Confounded by your beauty in more ways than one,
Suffocating my brain and removing me of my wits,
Holding my voice back, as the words escape at a run.

It is not that you are not beautiful, smart, and everything in between,
It is that whatever can describe you, is nothing I have ever seen.

My vocabulary is miniscule,
As compared to how I feel.

We are two sublime entities
pushing boundaries shifting
shapes drifting through life
stomachs eager for the madness
of digestion smoke & acid
billowing pillowing spillowing
against the organic walls
the defenses so thicc & sticky
we scratch our heads calmly
patiently waiting out the silence
conversations can't understand
so comfy we love our close
nothingness our joint voids
our abysmal futures

Sea captain who brings with him an air of comfort,
first mate, confetti egg shell,
metal-framed reservoir.
Cradle my head, pull my hand,
Stand.
Solve the equation for me. Don't.
Be my carriage horse. Roam free.
Burn the papers. Lock them away.
Join the feast. Serve us, **** the beast.

Begot, begetter
A stain-glass window, more like a painting
wet with thinner.
Broken calculator, hard-to-getter.
Man the weather--man the ship. Don't, I can do it myself.
Hideous, antique bird-feeder
favoring the magpies above all and doves the least.
Join the feast. Let us leave the little
beast alone, they've done nothing truly bad! because
Just a little cut doesn't hurt.
As long as the blood doesn't spurt.
As long as Sylvia is my dead friend.

As long as you're an indescribable friend,
always there among the bramble
of the old flower field, abandoned long ago.
In the 30s.

Sea captain who brings sun, my
first mate of all singing first mates, of
all operatic dancers.
Dance with me.

Becoming

Elegant

Around

Upholding

Trust.

­Indescribable

Fantasy

Undeniably

Lovely.




­Longing

Openness,

Virtuous

Excitement.

Outside the windows I see
Some powerful force
That moves the tall trees
And through it the birds fly their course.

Although we can not see the wind
We can feel it around us
Although we sing beautiful hymns,
We can not fully describe this.

The wind moves us like nothing else,
The Holy Spirit moves us like nothing else.