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Συγνώμη
Κολλητική βραδύποδες
Πολιτικά Αλύσοπριονα
Εγο ανάγκη ένα άλογο
Πεταλούδα
Δέντρο

Love is so complex;
too grandiose to comprehend,
too intricate to explain,
lost in some ulterior realm,
in a universe that is foreign
where the only thing of which I am certain
is that I am in fact
lost in you.

My body goes on autopilot
as my hands grip the sterilely frigid steering wheel,
speeding 20 miles over the limit,
body going through the motions
as my mind slips back into love,
into the all-consuming mesmerization,
grasping at song lyrics like straws,
searching the vowels and consonants for the
y - o - u
that I hear in them.

Reality comes and goes,
but you remain,
even in the moments most mundane;
sipping the koolaid slowly,
injecting your poison deeper into my veins
as I struggle to prevent the come-down.

What I feel buried deep inside...
it dries out my mouth,
creates craters in my stomach,
esophageal spasming,
I fight to catch my breath at the sight of your name on my phone,
the sound of your voice as you speak my name.

A thundering tsunami bursting at the seams of my
pale skin, my rosy cheeks,
the ferocity of my burning love
scraping against the bone and cartilage
to rip through me and
devour you...

And the only way that you
allow me to love you,
it's so small, it's so
momentary,
you only able to drink one
drop
at
a
time,
an entire hydraulic system,
streams and tributaries,
rivers and oceans,
forcefully squeezed,
funneled into daily droplets.

Dreaming of the last time I tasted you,
the times you used
to intertwine your body
with mine,
lost in incomprehensible ecstasy,
I can now only love you
through the simplicity of
conversation
and
of sitting by your side;
however,
even in its relative infinitesimalness,
I anticipate, yearn evermore for the stillness,
for I know that if today were to be my last,
if my hands were to slip off the steering wheel,
my body becoming sterilely cold,
your name would be the first word I would
speak
in my survival,
the last thought I would think
in my demise.

And though those moments
do exist
where I grow impatient,
frustrated with the walls you've built,
the dams you've constructed
to guard against my love's roaring riptide,
I would rather lose myself,
drop
by
drop
to you,
love you in the most minute way,
if it means I can
love you
at all.

i am a mess of broken strings and branching neurons that will never quite reach their intended purpose and i am a creature that loves like arsenic. i am curling flames that make their way into your heart and nest there with no intention of ever leaving and this is my problem; i never know when it is time to take my inhibitions and my shortcomings and get on a bus that will drop me off in your left ventricle, where i can smooth out my broken pieces and start again. i am a bird who can't fly and relies on others to take me up into the clouds because my potential overshadows my reality and i have never learned to escape mediocrity as it chases me onto a dead end street. i am all parts and no wholes; i am all fragments that won't fit together and no amount of glue will repair my shattered sense of self or my crippled brain that loves so intensely it drives people away. i am a line so long i can't even begin to look for the front so i settle into waiting and let it become my personality, let it become my everything because here is now and there is then and the timeline of my life has never been a straight line; it has always been a zigzag of humanity that folds back in on itself despite my mumbled protests. i am not a phoenix - when i have burnt to ashes i do not wish to be reborn because i have always been a loaded pistol and embers don't mix with gunpowder (i know this because i have been an inevitable explosion since the day my mother first held me in her arms). i am a surplus of pride and shame in the form of hidden tears and crumpled papers but i have always been older than my years and the anomaly in me has never been extinguished; maybe this is why when i look down at myself, i see only marks and freckles and imperfections instead of the blinding glare of my rattled soul. i am Hiroshima with its enormous power (too great to be contained) that dissolves my judgment into fine white powder and scatters it over dead soil like a twisted mosaic on a mottled canvas. i am poison - you will know this part of me if you reach past my organs into my core where my fears rest, if you get too close for comfort and my electric fence of a heart shocks you back. i am a being that never learned to love the right way so i love all the wrong ways and if you get caught in my crosshairs from where i stand above, you should run. i never learned how to escape myself, or my arsenic heart, and this is my problem. this will always be my problem.