i used to wanna be the sun
casting shadows on the wall
dancing between the leaves
but lately i have found myself wondering
how it would feel to be the warm glow escaping from the lamp in your bedroom
the lamp that lights your room just enough to read your favourite books
the one that as a child, kept you safe from the monster under your bed
and the one that now keeps you safe from the monsters in your head
i want to know how it feels to be the lamp that greets you every morning
the first thing you turn to when you wake up
when your nights get to dark i want to be the light you rely on to get you through the night
i want to be the lamp you bring to college
that sits in your living room in your first house
because you're 23 and you can't afford new furniture
i wanna be the lamp in your first child's bedroom
and the second child
and possibly the third
i wanna be the lamp in your last house
that sits in your attic collecting dust
the lamp that doesn't work anymore but you don't have the heart to throw away
i used to want to be the sun
but lately i have found myself wondering how it would feel to be the warm glow escaping from the lamp in your bedroom

asleep
closed eyes; darkness and depth emerge
slowly my bitter mind is drained
thoughts seeping out of my body
splattering  
through the room
thoughts of,
beauty
broken locks
letters
lights
oceans
and then nothing
nothing?
nothing is the absen-
ce of something
nothing in itself cannot
exist,
the idea of nothing exists,
an illusion...
an illusion is when I am with her,
it tastes of acidic tears
they are
cold
in my suitcase with the rest of my
illusions it lies...
in the ground
dead.

my suitcase is dead

uninhabited, lifeless, barren.
it is death grinding
a copper fence full of lies.

i think i am that copper fence
no
i know
i am
that
copper fence
i am nowhere
i am..
asleep

i wish we spoke more
so that i could talk to you about how last night
i was drunk in a cab
crying again
but this time i was not afraid
nor embarrassed
it was beautiful
it was slow moving
just like how things used to be
when i was getting to know you
but getting out of the cab
was like waking from a dream
a bad dream
one where i was aching
aching to be touched
by you
but now your fingers down my pants
feel like fingers down my throat
and how when you're next to me
you never feel next to me
there's this painful distance between us
i bet you can feel it too
i think telling someone you miss them
is really just a way of asking them to
come back

this morning  i have decided this will be  the last thing i will ever write about you,

i think a part of me will
always love being six years old—
love being tiny, unassuming, cold
in my reactions, bowled
over by my peers, told
to be bigger, brighter, better.

i am largely the same now—
but i am no longer six.

no one tells me to
become any bigger
or brighter or better,
being small means being
crushed, and if i am
overlooked, no one cares.

if i were six, this
would sadden me.
but i am no longer six,
i no longer care,
and i am alone in my
acquired apathy.

hello, i am a
writer, i am happy.
look at me smile.
look at me,
look at me—

no it’s not, you
dumb **** shut up,
you’re worthless,
you’re worthless,
you think you can be happy—

i am sad sometimes.
all the time—
half the time—
my lifetime—
where is the lie?

i am.
i am.
okay, i’ll be fine,
it’s fine,
okay, okay?
okay. yes, yes,
yesyesyes

look at me, i am
worthless stupid
******* amazing
shut up and look,
look at me don’t,

i don’t care i
don’t care i don’t
love you yes i do
i don’t care of course
it’s all i think about

stop stop stop,
don’t look at me,
i am too great,
too great, look,
look, i am on top,
the world is mine—

only in my head
only in my head
only in my head
shut up, shut up,
be quiet, i am tired!

leave me alone.
i don’t want to be alone.
help me be alone,
go away,
please.

please.
please.
please.

[…I don’t know what you mean.]

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”

*where is the lie?