Slip me in an envelope
seal me in safety
put a stamp on and,
address to anywhere
I don't want to know
And really do not care
as long as no one
Can see the inverted me.

I pack my bag. A girl approaches me.
"I love your jacket! "
/I hate my life./
"Thank you! Me too!"                  
I hurriedly make my way across the side walk.
" I really like your boots."    
/I really don't like being alive./
" Thanks! They were at Target!"
I glance at my tattered agenda.
" I wish I could do make up like you!"
/I wish I would get hit by a car. /
"Aww, thanks! You can always try watching YouTube makeup tutorials for help!"            
/I seriously need help./
I scribble doodles in the margins of my notes.
" I wish I could draw like you!"
/I wish I could have my life together./
" Thanks, but it's  predominantly in practicing. Draw like you, instead!"
I crumple papers with shaking hands.
" I dig your sense of style."                
/ I wish I had my sense of direction./
"Thanks, that makes me feel nice!"
I dig the dirt beneath my jagged nail.
" You always look so cute."
/ I always look for reasons to not **** myself./
"Awh, thanks! I try."
I slouch into a computer chair.
"You look tired."
/I'm tired of  my life./
" I'm actually not. I just have naturally dark circles under my eyes, is all."
I glance up at a familiar face.
"How are you?"
/I'm drowning./
"I'm ...surviving. ."

Intimations of intuition
Liberally surface.
Faith and I
Are on speaking terms.
Ekstasis wraps its arms
Around me and eases
Into my body.

I seem transmuted.

Come Here by Kath Bloom
Is mentally playing;
She sings of love,
And even though I have no lover,
It still soothes me
Like the generous breeze,
And uplifts me
Like Sol's glimmering solace.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

Originally written 1/15/14
Revised in 2014

For not occupying
very much of it
I need space.
Taking more than
I can give.

I don’t have room in here
for all the people I want to be
let alone any spare rooms
for you to crawl into.

To you my skin would be
a snug sleeping bag
but to me it’s being loved
into a corner of myself.
The only way out is to zip
ourselves together and
for me to lose storage space.

There were little clues
like you asking me
if it was okay to get a haircut or
to help you pick out your jeans.
You wanted me to become you,
but I wouldn’t fit your mold
so you’re trying to fit mine.

But did you even consider me
before you moved in?
You may know that I cut
eleven inches of my hair
twenty-two months ago,
but do you care why?

Don’t exhaust me,
and try to find out what I hang
on the walls of myself, or what keeps
my grandfather’s clock ticking or
why there are no windows.

There aren’t many
I would invite in, probably
why my walls were built so small,
but to you they are an expansion project.
You see a house warming party
where I see invasion.
A For Sale sign has never
been more appalling.

Inhaling to expand myself
like a balloon, bigger and bigger
so people will see that just because
it may not look like it,
I take up a lot of space and
I deserve it because I am
denied of it.

You were a hurricane
I was a little cloud
I was very quiet
You were very loud
Invading my mind
You became Calm
I thought I was an ocean
But I am just a lamb.

You are bonfire smoke
Clinging to my favorite clothes
Washed my hair 30 times
Felt your hair in my fingers
Every single time

And when I look in the mirror
I wear your smile
This glow in my eyes
Is reflecting off your skin

If I pricked my finger
It'd be your blood
You're coarsing rapidly
Through my veins
*I need a transfusion to escape

Sometimes less is more,
When more threatens
To become too much.

i must be allergic to kindness
because i don't receive any
i must be a pathetic loser
because my blades are my only friends
i must be lonely and alone
because i am always ignored
i must be dead
because i feel nothing but numb

i must be skinny
because i don't eat, right?

wrong



-k.l.