living just to impress,
cannot choose how to dress
without somebody patching their own cloth onto mine
and no matter what i cannot seem to unsew the demon in my skin
all i wanted was to wear my **** self and yet nobody could give this to me
a joy that i will forever be seeking
wondering what it will bring

To E--,

The orange sky
at 9 pm
is thrown over
the streetlamps,
bursting the
starry seams.

It's like you're
here, sometimes,
on this couch
the color of
burnt grass,
looking back
past the gauze
into the
hinging face
of night.

In truth,
you're sleeping
at the crux
of two
continents,
in an
eight-hour wash.

Every night
violent dreams
find me out
& unsew me
a little bit.

But soon
my wing of sleep
will be clean again,
because you will
be returned to me.
The orange sky
at 9 pm will
stop revolting,
and the night
will again be
the sweetest
of burdens.

Always Yours,
E---

oh to be swinging with scratched corneas again, that's the life
strawberry seeds stuck in gums, bones shedding from too much usage
not feeling as empty as i do now
what a cute little fantasy to live in

what a shame, i feel so sick
relapse and selfishness go hand in hand
i've always been right, i am unlined and at home
"finally fitting in? hesitating on showing another sign of weakness? did the palpitations ever simmer down? how depressing it is that your damaged body can't even feel the tetanus setting in (was the view worth it?) do his muscles ache when you dance with oncoming traffic?"
some things are better left in the gutter

long time no see babe, i'm glad we met
          i'd miss a thousand sunrises just to see the moon with you
          you know how much i love having bruised clavicles
          but please release my shoulders
          i wish i could unsew my stitched smile when i think of you
these pieces aren't fitting together, it's all so forced

i'm happy to be alive but it hurts
          it'll get better, i promise
art is subjective, this love is not
          be grateful you were ever a thought
let's just start over: hi, i'm lonely

heartache shared between two people that shouldn't walk the same ground
delusion is driving me to people that are different versions of you, come back
this isn't as fun as it used to be, i don't like being tossed around as much
let's go back to only being strangers

how do i get this thing to stop thinking?

I could be
a myriad
of mystical things,
abstract creatures
from your romantic dreams,
a culmination of your
creative schemes
as you unsew the seam
that seems
to keep your sweet sanity
stitched to this
harsh reality.

I could be
the escape hatch
unlatched
so that
you can get back
to that deep hole,
falling into
wonderland
then on again
to OZ and
Never Never
Land.

I could be a
great friends
and later when
you go looking
for him
I could be
the lover you seek.

Or, I could just be
a cold vagary
of nothing
never lasting
simply passing
on into the
the emptiness
eternity brews.