when i'm gone i have five shadows
and they knit quilts with barbed wire and dead leaves.
they chew on the fat lie
and simply forget the gravity of exile.

but i'm here now, and i love this.

-
-
you are not special
you are not special
you are only
my imagination.
you are not my foundation, fixation, frustration.

you are fire flirtation.
pupil dilation.
tablet temptation.

closed circuit consideration.
and this is all you will ever be.
you were never my medication.

you are not special
you are not special
the mantra is *******

but really i was always too afraid to say
"be my tonight and you'll be my tomorrow"
and i don't know how long forever is but
we can find out,
right?

Chalk, felt, feather-pens.
construction paper ends
glued to gift you a shift in-
to happiness:
You need bliss.
You don't have bliss.



I can give you this.

I look at these four letters
I use but cannot ever
truly own//
You will never be my blackness.
Never meet my skin
on your
skin.
s-s-senses
dont sense you.
cant seem to
finger on-
trigger-
it
back.
pull.
now
we
go.

I can't.
Can't I?

so we pour salt on slugs and watch them shrivel away
'cause you used say, "let's be human here."

disappearing was never our forté
but we could make it his.

I build bridges
I don't burn them.

And with every bridge I turn to
I look for the white paint lines of
"I Love Sarah Murphy."
Because I find that bridge
is the only road home

solemn day out at sea
when even words
won't talk to me.