i want to be smaller.
tiny, tinier, tiniest.

i want to be so small, that
i fit into a jar, and
can hide in the walls of
houses i never called
home,

maybe if i cut out some
stuffing, i will be satisfied.

my back
will slump forward and you
will see my spine, but i
will be smaller,
less open,
less
there..
.

and i will cease to exist,,,
almost
an empty shell of skin and
zipper, collapsed on the
floor, maybe my lungs will still
breathe.:

die, died, will die.
i want to be dead.

My life is falling apart at my seams,
Im crying and im fighting,
Pulling out my hair and skin as i try to comprehend whats happened to us,

What happened to me?
What happened to you?
What have we become?

I dont even know which person im talking about anymore.
But the message is still the same for all of you

Im wounded and I'm scaring up now.
Im stressed and tugging at the skin again.
Hardly eating, barely breathing again.
Not living again.

But of course some of you dont know ive been in so much trouble before.
All you know is what I've told you, and that doesn't mean ive told you everything

Someone, im begging
Look into these eyes of mine and see whos really trapped inside
Shes screaming for help, crying even
But she doesnt know where exactly to turn

She knows noone is looking for her because they seem to enjoy her persona.
They seem to like how guarded she is and how much of a mystery she beholds.

Someone, please, see the zipper on my back and shed my facadé.
Someone help me reach myself.
Because the zipper is too far up my spine,
I can't reach it by myself, my arms don't bend that way.

And if noone is willing to help me, that's okay.
I understand it's a selfish thing to ask of you to save me.

But if you think of all the times I've helped you when you were in crisis of self,
Wouldn't it soothe your mind to help me be at peace as well?

No never mind, forget I said anything.
I'll just stay here with my arms bending in every direction,
Until I can finally grasp that zipper and let her breathe the fresh air once more.
Because after all,
Even superman needs a rest from flying high all the time.

The pain is immense.
Shiny metal teeth laughing.
I hate this zipper.

My jean zipper coming down, all for the eager hand and mouth of a dark woman walking the night. Nothing heard and nothing seen could pry us from our silent, carnal screams or move us from the asphalt. I thought it was all over as we split, but I left with a number left for me, by her fingers on my cell phone screen, oh, I thought it was all over and done.

It’s a foggy autumn
Or maybe it’s a foggy memory.
The trees are trying on new tints;
The vermilion of my favorite matches my sweater,
with my name embroidered and a brand new zipper.
I scrunch my brow, and bite my tongue,
trying to introduce the metallic sides.
They quickly say h-h-hello but don't want to get along.
I try and try; mom smiles and says they'll warm up.
I let them go to take a deep breath.
I inhale and close one eye
and finally, as one vermilion leaf falls,
the left side feels romance and gives the right a kiss.
Zip zip zzzzzzip--
I love to see them love,
with my hands in the air and my chest kept warm.