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

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

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

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)

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)

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

my therapist told me
i have anxiety
and that i should spend time


i am trying
to be honest
once again
in my life

the mess at the bottom of my stomach
- is there a possibility it will go away?

i feel blue in this
resonance of being
under water
with loneliness

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