I am a constellation
A baffling creation of unintentional art
A random selection of cells
That form no shape, no being

I am the outline in a child's activity book
Connect the dots
An undrawn picture
Of a previously imagined individual

We humans make pictures with the stars
We draw lines between the dots
We create pictures of the things we are familiar  with
Assuming one leads to two
Defining vast and undesigned constellations into images material possessions
Based only on their locations

I have been tracing the lines between the numbers
Drawing pictures of myself in the sky
Trying to define myself in a human way
Trying to find enough of myself to fill the outlines laid down for me

I cannot find the pieces
I cannot fit the shapes
The rigid lines between the stars
Drawn on your human map
Do not fit my soul
And cannot be filled with my mind
Too much and not enough simultaneously

I cannot be your connect the dot
I cannot find the proper path to the image you created of me
Cannot draw or walk or be the lines
You painstakingly wrote out for me to trace

For the lines you drew do not truly exist
You drew them there to make the inexplicable scattering of dots and stars more comprehensible
You wanted the Galaxy to be graced with familiarity

I am not familiar
I am simply a random selection of cells
Simply the dots
Simply the stars
With no images or meanings

The sun burns bright all day and night
The moon comes to steal it's light
I was sitting by myself
I couldn't help to notice your shine

I was sitting by my chalk outline on the floor
You came like the sun to destroy the night that held me before

You don't have to dress up like a
Barbie doll to look so beautiful
I'll make sure you shine like you're supposed to
You don't deserve to feel like you're being used

I was sitting by my chalk outline on the floor
You came like the sun to destroy the night that held me before

And they’re just want to remind you
That there's nothing you can do
But I'm here to tell you
I’m in love with everything that you do

I don't mind your cold fingertips
That means my body is warm for you
Sitting, waiting for you to decide
If you want to go out or stay by my side

I was sitting by my chalk outline on the floor
And you came like the sun to destroy the night that held me before
So come sit by my side and set me on fire with your love
Who needs the world when I’ve got the girl that burns like the sun

https://spencercarlson.bandcamp.com/track/chalk-outline

Words traced and outlined,
rewritten and replaced
fine tuned, created, and made
words that generously looped and curved
around days I could not go straight through
for fear I've lost the comfort of the old
at the expense of the new
only resemblance is the mold
that once outlined the old.

I kept tracing and outlining
Words to heavy to pick up and carry to you.
So I keep these burdens to myself,
in a box, on a shelf
or under my bed.
and a simple tap
allows them to swim in my head
so fast I can't put them back
and I find that it's strength against you that I lack.

I've constructed this atmosphere
so you can't begin to come near
yet I find you in my northern hemisphere
and I wonder how I appear

I've build my dome from glass
so I can observe and Intervene
but my persuasion never lasts

I know when dark days
prevent me from seeing past
my windows of glass
and they bend and they crack
down the center pane
and I feel that strength I lack

I don't expect you'll send her
words of encouragement or pressure
just to mend her
just to make her lesser

and I don't know why you slip
in the water I saw you pour
all the while convincing me
that you never saw it on the floor

I don't want to understand
the way your words twist like DNA
into their double helix form
and in there I find unannounced strength to warm
those words that fit in my mouth like a diamond on a setting
capable of mesmerizing and capable of slicing

I made this universe so I could find you at your best
but as I lay these swimming words to rest
I know how you must first
remove my armor and break me down
before you can use the scripted words
I've outlined and traced
covered with warmth, but from mace
to dress the wounds that were not undone
and convince me that my scars are not of strength
much like the rest of what I've become

To expel the outlines piled in my mind on paper,
With a light pencil in one hand,
And slice of rubber in the other,
I parent an impression of hope.

Therein lies the potential and the excitement;
A basic figure given the foundation of grandeur,
Amplifying in complexity before me,
With every scratch of graphite.

As it evolves, a heaviness sets in.
And I pause,
And I stop...

I've given something beautiful a half life, again,
As if it was birthed human,
With no flesh to cover its nerves,
And no breath to cry out its agony.

It remains still in my lap,
Eyes blank as ever staring, maybe, at me .
Out of humility, I tack it up on the wall,
A space shared by its many siblings.

I retreat shamefully with the promise to complete them,
Fumbling with the reality of what I do;
Playing God, I shape the husk of a soul,
And drop it when it's still brittle.

Look at the size of that chalk outline,
The evidence labelled from one to nine,
Hear the sirens cry throughout the night,
The screams of despair, the gasps at the sight.

For the chalk outline, common it was,
White powder stained with drops of blood,
Outlining a corpse, a reflection of death,
But this one was less, than two feet in length