Today is the day you last said hello
I wonder how long it will last
I'm turning my back to the sunrise
If I don't see it how will I know it has passed
But of course you're the sun
And you're not nearly done
But your light is dripping out of sight as you hurt
Tomorrow I'll wake and wonder if the days will still remain
Or if we will ever be the same
Yet 'till then I'll lay down my head
In my dreams you still shine
And I have to squint tight my eyes
Upon waking it is for you I pray
I pray your rays may glow and you I might behold
As the sun greets the day

You're inside me,
like a disease.
You tangle through my veins,
unwilling to put my mind to ease.
I beg of you to loosen the reins,
just let go of me and take the pain please.
You have taken place as my cane,
but you've pushed me to leave.
I beg of you to loosen the reins,
But you are my fatal disease.

I
[After surgery]

Your new skin is a flat, white stone washed up into the arms of the shore

you'll need to become the rough shoulder of the sea

and wash over it

rise and fall

over and over

rise and fall

until the seams split

until eventually it slips back in place over your bones

and folds once again over the two empty caves of your eyes

until it wraps around the base of your skull

and begins to sponge up your mind

which has been elsewhere

seeped out and spread

as an unbound ocean

through the dark void of anesthesia

until you once again become small and unbroken

II
[Upon waking]

The entirety of your mind is contained within the few ounces

of ice chips in the Styrofoam cup on the tray

next to your hospital bed

you'll have to crush the ice with your teeth

let it melt over your tongue

let it seep back down your throat

over and over again

until you feel yourself

climbing up

and into

climbing up

and just beneath

the surface of your eyes

wide and clear

through this final surrender

wide and clear

through this

long and drifting

homecoming

It is when your mind shall know the truth,
when your body doesn't comply with your thoughts.

It is when you're immobile that you'll understand what you've taken advantage of.

It is when you don't feel right that you'll be reminded that you've lost respect for yourself.

there is a boy in a bed in a room. tubes are coming out of his arm, one out of his nose, and something is beeping too loud. he looks up at you under half-closed eyelids, and he smiles, and you love him. no fanfare, no celebration — just something taking root in the pit of your stomach and blooming, an unseen flower.

the boy is still in the bed, the beeping is still too loud, but you go and sit next to him and you can’t let go of his hand. he’s looking at you like he knows, like he’s always known — like he’s been loving you this whole time, just waiting for you to catch up.

and in a hospital, in the midst of chaos and disease, a beautiful thing slips quietly into the world. everything is still, and you can’t look away from his eyes.

I'd never do you wrong
But I can't do you right
I struggle to understand things
And I might, be better off alone
Who knows?
Perhaps we're great together

As if I'm the whiskey and
You're a fine cigar
Individually enjoyable
Together we're great
But we're both cancerous and
One of us ruins lives

Everyone has a drug, and sadly you are mine.
But whenever we talk, I feel like a waste of your time.
Maybe I'm not worthy, but you sure are addicting.
Because after a while, even joy turns to sickness.