I bought a new dress and it makes me look like a lost sock
it fits me well and makes me feel grown, the kind of beautiful you find in a fish with funky spots
descriptively the lost sock has the kind of pattern to make you want to take markers and draw on the wall.
the one you go crazy and see women inside of it
gilman could get lost in my dress
makes me want to hold a microphone and unplug it, so that i can let the voice in my head talk over the others.

this is what you know, that all things die
all things should cry at some point
all things should know how to pick rocks up and throw them
they should know follow the light that shines during the day, and look under logs to the things that don't.
that all purpose cleaner couldn't be for your brain, that unfinished things chained to the ground will always be shadows up ahead.
that once a ******* your bag breaks, a new strap will be required
that you shouldn't pick wildflowers but sometimes you can't help it.
that love shouldn't come easy but it shouldn't weigh.
that when your eyes sunk into your head, it was time to fill yourself with air.

I still think of you when I hear your song
Songs that weren’t yours
When it’s silent

a magnet, with little wooden posts,
and little wooden birds. they sit
stagnant  still  perfect
clay maybe, that stuff from walmart that never dries so you have to cook it in an oven
they never grow old  or weather  on my fridge
ill polish them, make them wish they could sing

your cup is empty
you pour people
add some job
a little money
sprinkle little things to make it fizz
too much fizz it overflows
to many things added and it becomes a jungle
the cup needs to be washed
cleaned, sanitized, put in the cupboard for a little
open the cupboard, remember that you can make drinks again
cup care is the most important, because if dropped, filled too often
it gets damaged, frail, old
new cups are hard to come by
new cups take time to make once yours is broken
fill it, empty it, wash it, again
empty for too long, you'll get thirsty and dehydrated.
filled all of the time, you'll drown

i am not anything
i am not nothing
i am everything
all the time
every second
every minute
every hour
every day
i am floating
and i am falling
i am cold
and i overheat
i plan
and i spring
i change
my mind
my time
my clothes
my love
i color
i layer
im mean
my heart is huge
3 times too big
i build
i destroy
build again
i dig
i fill
i trip in the hole again
its how i get sometimes

"stop writing like its a book"
but it is
everythings a book
a story
everything should be beautiful and detailed
should flourish with interesting words and patterns
if life was a painting I would use all the colors
if life was a dance i'd throw myself in the air
if life was a cake there would be flowers upon flowers upon garnish and taste, fillings and layers and gold edible sparkles covering it
if everything I do is not gorgeous, then why?