i think i think too much of you
so i try to forget you in others
but others do not last so now i
feel like an overexposed wound
on the face of this earth trying
to hide my vulnerabilities in
the silence of the crowd which
is that spot when you are sitting
in a crowd of people but no one
is talking to you or looking at
you really so you have this haze
strangely around you where you
catch bits and pieces of others'
conversations but you remain a
bystander and there is silence
around you as you commit actions
like moving and talking so you
remain undisturbed and really
this is nice but i think of you
too much so i think of you in
this noise or the galaxies, and
stars at the point of my finger
tip exploding into colors and
slow motions in a tug of time
that we try to understand and
we pay millions and billions of
pulp of trees to try and see
as if by understanding we will
seize the tug and pull all of it
into the palms of our hands
so we can have these celestial
bodies in the palms of our hands
but really how can you and is
it not ridiculous that you
are infinitesimal in the face
of these constellations but
you sought to bring it to heel
like an errant dog anyway
but i think too much of you
and you are here lurking at
the bottom of my mind now
as if to say, stop, do not
think further of that, come
back and be grounded do not
dream silly dreams of stars
too big to move with finger
tips or even the full weight of
your body and i think too
much of you and i just feel
so so small

this was confusing to write so i guess it must be confusing to read

i was feeling lonely and low again
but this time it had nothing to do
with volume of work just the over-
whelming sounds of not-people tal-
king talking to me to each other

it feels very much like being a
used rag beat up with others tears
frustrations broken dreams but none
of their joy optimism hope love or
happiness so i thought again about
life being for the living existing
stability competence steadiness
about wishing away forever but never
finding anything like today in the
infentissimal spaces between our
gaping web stories i wondered if
yours and mine would intersect
like eye-contact across railways
apathy indifference ignorance of
always being in the same place
at the same time but never sharing
the same moment in the same space

i thought of the intersections
of my veins and my synapses electric
and the nerves on leaves that
look an awful lot like the arrangement
of vessels under the skin of my
thick solid wrists with some bulging
out belying their strength with
their deep blue-ish color
blossoming brusie-like under the
surface pulsating with life-blood

then i thought of fishing by oceans
sitting cross-legged on wooden
benches overlooking rolling cold valleys
with a hot cup of tea in my hands
or waking up and sitting on the beach
in the sand hands wrapped loosely
tugging my knees to my chest
watching the ocean waves come in
in the soft light of stars giving
way to some of the early morning rays
spreading like coffee slowly spilled
across the thick cheap carpetting used
in cheap office spaces with all
the color of a muted mix of yellows
reds oranges pinks blues refracted
across the skies forming impressions
on the water that waves more prominently
preening in the separation between
itself and the now lightening skies

i was thinking of you and me
in our pieces and places
thinking about our own selves

not thinking about each other
until time space place things
put us where we breathed air
in same situations here-there

what a strange conspiracy
would place us here to down
grade the importance of selves
ours mine yours each others

we did not prioritize so
this world put us at number
one for each others for some
time leaving us without options

we made do with companionship
some brief moments of time
where we prioritized each other
then time space place things

moved without us a tidal wave
of shifting things so we shifted
too and moved to others priorities
but you were fortunate enough

to take a plus one for these
black-tie events while i carry
the heavy space around me as if
it is an option a conscious choice

no one rsvp-ed as my plus one
thus no witnesses to call me out
when i don a new face to greet
the faces i meet prepared to leave

every second every day- i barely
remember those i met a minute
a blink a movement ago but
music forges ahead life brims

knowledge is added and crushed
into dust by the relevance of time
disallowing for anyone to put any
hold onto it with intellect or paper

my song remains empty silent fake
lights fake smiles fake laughs fake
fake tears fake companionship so
helplessly temporary i feel the

drowning air of words unsaid anxieties
untested in my bones at my lips as i
slowly nervously keep moving always
being rushed in as a late attendance

by an impatient usher too busy with
bigger details to explain the rules
of a party where i always arrive late
with none to take my coat at the door

i remain hopelessly dressed in red
dungarees worn since i was three
my version of a skintight red dress

painfully obviously underdressed

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
X            anxiety is a cage          X
X                limitless in               X
X               its recursive              X
X              worries about            X
X                problem X                X
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

left at three am
leaving fairy lights on
knowing that i would be
coming back

then
your pale frame
eclipsed my sight,
you, the moon,
caught me staring
too long and i blinked
your face burnt black
into the backs of my eyelids,
there were nights
i would rub my eyes
and count the spots
you’d left like stars
(one two three four
five six seven eight)

then
i thought the numbers
in my head were all
the reasons we were wrong
i started sleeping
with my eyes open
if i shut them i’d see
holes and think of your craters
and how the men who tread
your surface don’t clean
their boots well enough
don’t think to ask you
how you like it before
they plant their flags,
but they offered you
the world, and all i had
to offer were the spots
in the backs of my eyelids
(one two three four)

then
rockets counted down
the seconds until they could
meet you and i
counted you out,
contented myself by
staring at the sun,
blinked and i
saw spots
(one two three)

i am no man,
would not simply
stake a claim so bold.
in hindsight,
you, the moon,
had already claimed me,
wrapped your evening flag
over my eyes
and made me yours,
i just never
noticed the fabric,
couldn’t see past
the spots in my eyes.

now i only see you in hindsight.

i was dreaming about you
last night

thinking about perfection
and its

relevance in my life
my fractured

pieces that come together
for average

cannot compete against that
of yours

where you burn and fight so
you can

best everyone and i i just
try to

get by with some work some
smiles to

help me while my nights away
and a

dream of how i one day want
wish i

could feel living in sleeping
bags half-

stolen songs sung soft in
moon light

on a fall day crisp leaves
falling crunching

slow under my feet while this song
plays out

my life my insecurities and i hope
to live

a life so beautiful that when i die
they cry

Next page