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

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

in&out
slow&slower

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

time was spent
writing and in that
I thought
it's been a while



I was counting down the years
looking at my fingers
two hands not enough to contain
all of it



a palm full of life
two palms full of life
three... and
(well, I'd reverse or continue
but my age
should remain a secret)

but after so many handfuls
there were some more
maybe too many
maybe not much or perhaps
were there any?



some palmfuls of life
and I realize
that maybe I need to
be a little kinder



looking past the now
remaining stuck in fear
fear of what may come
what may be said



I realize that is not good
not healthy
and I wish that above all else
I regain my strength to live
as fully as I wish
as fully as I want to be remembered



but it is hard
and I know it takes time patience skill
to bring everything I have
up to the standard I want to reach



so I stay clustered in my room
preparing myself
rejuvenating myself
re-motivating myself
to try
be better than who I am



apparently motivation is like showering
so it's something that needs to be pursued
not done once and forgotten forever

I thought terribly hard of all the things

I wanted to say in the spaces of your time and mine

my heart rushes ahead of all the things I want to type out and

the time spent crafting my life journey

pathetic as it was

sad and stupid as it was

in the memory of my life

I dedicate it to myself

as something I deserve to have done for myself

not subjecting anyone else to my whining

my feeling sorry for myself and

trying to escape this feeling sorry,

feeling bad for and about

myself





this was my act of selfishness-

one of many I must admit-

however there is something to be said

about taking out for no one

but myself

and in a heartbeat, my life,

continues



no-one needs judge

this is my ode to myself

the floor digging into curves
i did not know by body had
with my body curving absurd
my hands full of realization
that my shapes are awry
off-the-mark

my legs sit ahead
lax tired filled with exhaustion
of not enough miles walked
enough sitting around day
to day and working on
support of my sitting body

i feel sorry to have taken
away their purpose
a life should be better
lived but it's owner
weary and filled
with excuses

works day and night
on sitting or sleeping
not doing much but
just a floater
focused on
a sky always cloudy

a pathetic soul
one of many
just a sad sad soul
in its generalizing
with the many
and the soul has no
shine

but hit escape
life has its
own rhythm and groove

but the groove that once
made itself known
seeps into the silence of
trees, nights, stars
rarely seen

words barely written
unartistic
unassuming
arbitrary
uninteresting
invisible

­screaming heart
quietens under
burden of
weightlessness
of existence

all i wanted was to lie in a pool of sunshine
so hot i could barely breathe, dream or think
ripping them away like crunchy autumn leaves
falling from trees in gusts of strong winds
i wanted to be engulfed in a hot pool
so hot i have difficulty breathing
and my clothes get covered in sweat
this uncomfortable heat and brightness
cruel in its desensitization but also
a mercy for my brain which churns and pivots
bouncing around thoughts and dreams which
make me wish for sleep and then hate sleep
wish i could run run and lie in pools of
molten sunshine burning my skin to the bones
so i can perhaps breathe for five minutes
without a weight on my chest
a crick in my neck tightness in my back
surprising liquid on my face
where does it come from?
what is its purpose?
where does it go?
all evaporate in this stupid pool of garbage
sunshine and i

i can pretend my heart does not beat blood
my presence matters
i am not sad
not contemplating numerous ways to die
in the spaces between my thoughts and dreams
in my thoughts and dreams

i remember and i forget hoping

hope kills and love dies
belief lies and relationships burn
a hollowness a cavity

there is sadness and there is a rhythm
but i
do not remember the paths i tread
following these endless roads to that rhythm
i once had
where is it now?
what is its purpose?
where does it go?

i lie in embarassment and bashfulness
dance around to pretend that love never dies
relationships soothe and hope survives

but in that pool of sunshine
half-truths and half-lies
concepts of gray do not exist in
pure bright white blue
hotness
so i wanted to burn for a bit
let my bones get some air
so my tears can evaporate
the moment they escape
so i can continue saying
my heart does not feel
my heart does not exist