my emotions are a seesaw
why don't you have a seat
take a ride with me
as we prepare for our final sleep
my head is spinning
like a top that just set alight
will you be my firefighter
and extinguish me every night
remind me I'll be fine

these feelings are unholy
question the essence that makes me more than boring
restless and unsatisfied, totally mystified
i am scared to die, but aren't I supposed to face my fears?
I can't make eye contact anymore
do you think death would accept my prayer?

you are the one thing I can't leave behind
so I'll hold your hand while you hold mine
why am I still so petrified?
is the lack there of a myth made up by the great divine?
who will answer these questions of mine?
I've been in line this whole **** time
well guys, I've got quite the mountain to climb
I should really get going before its my time

I'm drunk!!!!
I can hardly walk straight
I'm glad I don't need to talk
Because I hate slurring my words

they're too important
To be mumbled
And misunderstood

I'm drunk
And I love it
I hate it

Still I don't want to talk
But I cannot help but write
It is the spirit within me
That screams I need to be heard

And when I'm drunk
I understand
The spirit knows more than I do
It knows why I feel so much hope when the moon is new

And such loss
When the moon is full

I'm drunk
But I'm a conduit to other realms
And only by spreading this message around
Can you hear it

I'm drunk
(Hahaahaahahahaahahahaha)
But I still hope
What inspires me
Will inspire you

i feel like i owe you a love letter
(or at least an apology):
my love
letters have always been born
of spark, burning bits of bark
or grass, ash -- elements consumed by morning
fed to wind
departed

i do not love
you flash and fade
surge then break

you are underneath all the soil
you are warm and solid and everything
we move together everywhere, slow
but always together moving:
until the heart goes ice we are
together moving, and even in silence
in darkness we will be together
unmoving

i do not love you thunder
i love you stream:
sometimes roar but often murmur
heard but hidden somewhere among the oaks and maples
not tucson wash that flows twice a year
but new york stream that ices over,
floods springtime, bows deep into late summer,
always cuts
steady etch deeper every day until we are
grand canyon love,
see it from space love,
lasts like mountains love

i wish
i could write
these words
smaller,
origami them
through your pores
dissolve them into
your blood

feels
too true
to be
louder
than whisper

I woke up and your face was an inch away from mine
I pulled up your covers to make sure you were warm
And nudged your face over a couple of inches
I was content
Which is such a rare and treasured sensation
Almost as rare and treasured as you
At that moment you broke me out of my fantasy
You in your sleep kicked me in the knee
I kicked you right back
Because you're my bestfriend
And I'll always return the favor
Last night we were lying in the middle of the street in my neighborhood
Pointing to stars and making up their life story
Describing how they lived and how they died
Our limbs were entwined
We were warm despite the cold breeze
With every headlight that passed us
Every lingering stare
We laughed absurdly
Wondering what they must have thought
About two kids lying in the middle of the street
Legs tangled, at two in the morning

And yet you still wonder
Why everyone thinks we are dating

Loops feel cursed to me,
I've been living in them for God knows how many weeks,
I'd do anything to break the pattern,
anything to make them scatter,
I've been picking the scab on my chin for an hour,
You won't read my texts anymore,

Everything I eat,
no matter how sweet,
tastes sour,
Probably a side effect again,
Isn't it always in the end?
Just a side effect again.

I've been spelling words inside my head,
It makes me feel crazy but the patterns will save me,
Just make this all stop please,
I'm tired of this repetitive clicking,
It's really really itching,
I can't breathe

It's just the side effects again
They always say it is in the end.

I wonder, when John Hancock
signed the Declaration,
if he could feel time pulling apart
then back together,
taking the shape
of his America.

I wonder, when Lincoln
felt the cold bullet
enter the curls of his hair,
if he had enjoyed the play.

I wonder, when ****’s
burned ownerless toys
and 80-year marriage rings,
if they were shaken
by the screams of thousands.

I wonder, when the sailor
kissed that nurse
when the war had been won,
if he thought about bombs
or her soft lips.