I miss you, distance-
where's all the space?
I miss you, closeness-
and all the density.
I miss you, voice-
that sound that softly rages.

I don't let myself speak,
so I hope tightly
that someday everyone
will move back to me.
And maybe we'll be happy.

I miss you, arms-
cover me and hug me.
I miss you, beauty-
when you're far and gone.
I miss you, circles-
the ones you draw on my shoulder.

I miss you, distance.
Come back to me.

I want to be what I can,
so much so that truth
will drip off my skin.
And you won't deny that this reality
is taking over me again.

I am a mess.
And this mound won't untangle itself.
I am not me,
not who I want to be.
Let's take me down from that ***** shelf.
It's a fit to clean off,
but I have faith in myself.

From where I stand,
I can see who I really am.
It's me on a mountain peak,
it's me as a white sunbeam.
Won't I let the right things
take me to who I am?
Won't I close my eyes
and run there as hard as I can?

So I'll make the plans,
and take them in.
I'll finish them,
and I'll win.

I want to be what I can,
so much so that truth
will drip off my skin.
And you won't deny that this reality
is taking over me again.

Would you beat your body with your own fists?
Would you scream aloud at yourself for what you did?
Then why do you let your thoughts take control?
Why do you so easily allow your anger to take the fall?
There's a fine line between love and abuse.
That's something we should explore and choose.
It's so easy to taunt ourselves with the things we lose.
It's what we do, whether we beg or refuse.
The truth is that loving is the hardest part,
but cruelty is the roughest.
If the world was perfect,
we would acknowledge the distinction between the two.
We'd live happily as self-love makes the rules.
We would bend and break as we always do,
but the consequences wouldn't offend us as much
or be as crude.
There's a fine line between love and abuse.
The difference is the flight we take,
the ride we want,
and the weakness we fake.
It's a lifeless game,
this life we live.
So when you sin and sin,
will you beat your body with your own fists?
And when the times get hot and out of control,
will you talk yourself out of grace and forgiveness?

Sometimes I wonder if my memories
are just dreams.
If they're things I made up;
they didn't happen to me.
If I gave myself years and years of pure dishonesty-
compulsively redeciding what my past should be.
Did all those events, conversations, lies
never even take place,
and how can I be sure?
What if these things I'm remembering
never even occurred?
What if I'm crazy and nobody has told me?
What really happened all these years?
Did I not have to shed all those tears?
Maybe I danced and sang like a little child would-
was the world happy and feel as it should?
Was I taken hostage and never let go?
Am I in this room right now,
or is this just a mind show?
Where am I at,
and where have I been?
Does that affect where I'm going and who I am?

I decided I really like the word "light,"
and I hope it likes me back.
It's not about life,
but about the objects that make it great,
like the sun and lampshades.

Light makes me feel inspired.
It makes me want to run
but also stand still.

Put light on me
like a dress,
to dance around
and take pictures with.

I stand in a giant cement driveway-
a driveway of trials and blessings.
I look at my green hands.
Green hands.
They hold a red brick.
Oh, how heavy the brick feels to me!
Since I am just a small grasshopper,
it feels impossible for an insect like me
to carry an object such as this.
It scratches my hands, my chest, fingertips.
And the weight drags my light body
to the cold ground.
Cold ground.
Sometimes a cold ground seems terrifying,
but it is almost a comfort to me.
My eyes dart from the ground to this brick.
Darting eyes.
My body wishes with all its strength
to shatter this brick against the cement..
But the driveway is my home.
A home for a grasshopper?
Shaking green hands.
Shivering cold ground.
Raging darting eyes.
Help me hold this brick.

"I need health"
is what I wrote on my desk,
so that I won't die
being the same as I lived.
Repair my skin,
repair my sins.
I am falling to the ground.
Give me a change of self.
I can hardly stand these pins.