This sunlight can be like a lamp through trees
when it feels like the sun has followed me across a field
finding me with the trees and the horses and small animals
smelling the grass

And I can wear your friends coat
and it will keep me smiling through the cold
eat cereal dry from the box
sitting on a fallen tree
fill the ghastly centre of me
to find it's more like a strange warmth

These clouds can be like some distant lands
And i can be afraid of the mud and the sand and the twigs
because i love them
and i can be afraid of your hand
because it can lead me to the rest of you

I can be alone on the pavement
on the concrete road
and call it a mood and i know what that means
with the houses bending around me
corners on roads waiting

Only one place will be like this
where the moon falls into the sea
I'll feel my heart beating on the stones
see the words sitting in between us
and people who never found me

This music can be like the rain sometimes
and it can be like the shelter
And I will find us a fallen stairway
You will find us a hole in the ground
We can find a space to be in

Along a path
I can touch everything
and let it go
and i will feel how it feels
like leaves and words
I'll fall into spirals
like leaving my body
fall on the ground
in the sky
roll in the dirt
cry and cry and cry
or smile

I will climb the ladder of this silo
with the mud from your boots on my hands
and we can see the fields together
when your smell is still quite new to me
the air will smell like rivers this day
and the world will look like pale light
and you can bring me biscuits on the swing
while i wait for you to see your family
and it won't be normal

once I thought i could taste the world sometimes
it will happen again probably

Marijuana is tempting me
we all have our moments (and)
you're going to hell
hands twitch spasmodically on the windowframe
belly white fire from below
You make me sweat
and fidget
and pace
hair shining ravenlike at dawn
God kills all our children while
America revels in buisiness suits
the poor man beaten down
Listened to your tired song 30 hours straight but
felt no comfort in the melody
smoked 10,000 cigarettes
waiting for the Christian Apocalypse

lonely autumn nights
blisters and calluses
forming on my stiff
cold hands

(pure cotton
is forgiving of
hasty tendencies
or picky forms)

wrapped and wound
tightly around my fingers
every loop an attempt
at controlling chaos

(thinking about
how i'm not
an outcast and
i never was)

i'm the shoe in the pair
that is slightly too tight
on the one foot that's a
bit larger than the other

or the shirt that you
keep wearing for years
because it fits but you
don't really like it

i am the paint on your
windowframe that's just
fine except for the white
flecks it left on the glass

(i've never been
an outcast
i've always been
different?)

i don't like to say
i'm different because
we're all different
i was just different
enough to be a slight
nuisance or distraction

i apologize too much
for what's not my fault
and too little for what i
should take ownership of

*(something about my personality
maybe just misplaced anxiety
dictates that all things must be
stacked and aligned perfectly.)

When you’re asleep I sit in the light, studying your movements
When you’re asleep a sit in the dark, syncing my breathing with yours
When you’re asleep I lie next to you, drinking your mumbles, the sounds your stomach make, the smacking of your lips
When you’re asleep I lie awake

There is something so very special
about the perk in the curl of your eyelashes
the lifts and dimples of your cheeks
and the way your lips part like blossoming flowers in the spring
flush with pale pink color that I draw my lips closer to touch

My worries dissolve like the flutter of your eyes
as you leave our world together and travel off to your own
maybe I can visit you there, but it doesn’t truly matter
I’ve elected to stay behind with the other half of you.
And it stays so very charming, when its fingers—your fingers
wrap themselves around mine when my hands reach for yours.

Why is there something so securing, so beautiful, and so safe
about being in a tide alongside someone who’s unconscious?
you’re hardly any good here, asleep, unaware of burdens round us
you can’t even fight the spider now crawling down the windowframe
you’ll never even know he was there, had I not been here with you
I’ll take care of it, darling, and you’ll never have to know
When you’re out and I’m still here I can rise, protect both of us.

Come on little spider,
oh please do not be afraid of me and this fateful kleenex tissue

Home fort is safe again. My focus is back onto you. And your lips.
And your nose. Is it even possible to admire someone this much?
A hair is poking out of it. Maybe two even. And yet you’re perfect.
Every trait of yours a detail on an exquisite piece of art. And god no it’s not your looks.

It’s your heart, really:
the one part of you that travels to both worlds.
By day it stays mine, loving me back as I try to hide my own
translating my affections into non-misheard obsessions
keeping me safe. And painting my world beautiful.
But at night it follows you, off to lands of magic and adventure
Painting your world full of color and light, even as you lie in the dark
Such a functionally simple *****. And yet somehow I’m alive in it.

This ending wasn’t meant to make sense.

Light danced across the hardwood floor of her irises,
reflecting deep rays of brown, fire-painted oak wood into the
absorbing glass of his sea-foam green, windowframe eyes.
A now forgotten word was mellifluously sung;
curtains leaden with longing were reluctantly drawn.
The luminous sun then ceased to hang canvases of
oak and sea
on their abstractive walls,
diverging instead to displays murals of perspective
into the windowpanes of distant eyes.
Then, like black and white keys
being poignantly pressed by the fluency of fingertips,
the edges of their eloquent lips
began to touch