i am undiagnosable.
my injury is not see-able. but my wound is not closed
as i am only myself, when i am alone.

i have found understanding life is
simple. it is the ability to accept
non-understanding.
simplicity:
thou art a cruel *****

indeed, to understand
is heroic
or crazy. i may call you a liar even

[i am a liar. in many ways]
but to my mind. i destroy
me, where it counts.
i do not
understand myself. and
that is the worst of all.

i find myself
here again.
blue jeans and barefoot

the ground, too
cold.
ah, all i can do
is watch the single tear
fall, with that cruel deafening silence and explode
on the dirt below

for all i have left
is that one tear

but when i returned later
after slamming that same ****
door
i found a single spring sprout
stretching its limbs, growing
out of the
less-cold ground

the biggest
lie
ever said, is

uttered, muttered
shouted through tears
wailed, mailed
failed by ears

twisted by mind
but worn in the heart

but really.
don't worry, my friend
this time,
i truly am.
                     i'm fine.

i am invincible
like a rock is

tough

dropped for a millenium
but if it lands
in the wrong
way perfectly

it cracks in half.

life
does not come from
breathing
alone.

1. to exist: have objective reality or being
indeed, it is the struggle
of life
to discover what
makes us real
or to be a being


2. to exist: be found, especially in a particular place or situation
is it not
the goal
of each of us, as humans
to be found.
in a place where happiness is
drunk by the gallons,
eaten at feasts,
gorging our stomachs:
swollen with happiness

as for me.
i am lost, itching
to exist again. to find my life
i am breathing
underwater.
but
i have no anchor
.
.
.
and
         i      
            will
                     refuse to sink.

you laugh, adorably
perfectly.
i, embarassingly.
i can't help
myself. with you

i love our jibber jabber.
late nights, awake
smiling.

how can you not see
me?

when i started high school
i was in a box.
perhaps, i was boxed before
9th grade. but the box closed
with packing tape
very soon after.

this box--cardboard, brown
small. too small. too much.
became my ideal.
                                  "there is nothing outside
                                   these cardboard confines"
and so i went.
no air holes
no time to
breathe.

it is here
now. gasping hard for air
where i decide,
to cut the tape.
rip apart those confines
to which i have been conformed to
fit. just so

no matter
i have the ******* knife.