You are the mental immigrant,
comfortable only when you are foreign

Take me to Geneva in the winter
where our lungs will be crowded with icicles
as our capillaries assemble on edge
each and every one aching just to quiver
like my bottom lip that I simply can't control.

Oblivious to the weather
fueled by a shroud of eager anxiety
that engulfs and embraces my skin
like the quick and even breathes I'm taking
just to stay awake
in something that predicts like a vision.

Follow me close as I perceive this vividly
that the moment wedged between inhale
and exasperated exhale
is flooded with thoughts of you
that I would drown in it willingly
that all I can credit my thoughts to be
is to the speculation if I am lucid dreaming or not
of your lips on mine
of your fingers earnestly entwined in my shaggy hair
as you pull me closer
and I can smell your warmth
and feel your passion through this possibility
that our our hands are locked
like the door of my bedroom
every night
in my empty apartment
because being safe
has taken me 21 years to understand
and even then
the fear shamefully crawls its way into my spine
like the hunter into the carved belly of the bear
for warmth and survival
for protection of incessant guilt.

But it is in this ten seconds
I can finally sink into this fogless reality
of enjoyment and felicity
at long last
the solace refuge.

And in this accelerating sound of assurance
I will teach you the language I studied
in moments so short
that a staccato could fill two lungs tip top
and still be 100 yards behind this message
gawking at the starting line
and as the gun goes off
I am already there
lungs filled
wanting to do justice
with more than just an ***** in my chest
but with the treatment hidden inside skipping beats
and minds running and screaming so loudly
as I'm howling this adamant resonance from the top of the complex
to empty my mind until my throat is sore
until what follows are the neighbors voices escaping angrily open windows
bellowing at me to please turn it down
for the umpteenth time
but I want to remedy this disease
with the softness of your neck
I want to hold you close
with your head nestled in my shoulder
where scars beneath clothes usually sit dishonorably
but not now
because now they know a relentless forgiveness
and amity so authentic
that now I can exhale

I have the windows down
for the first time it's 60 degrees this night.
I'm sweaty from my workout
the breeze is causing the hairs on my arm to stand on end.
The cold is mildly to somewhat uncomfortable,
but I refuse a jacket so I can at least feel something right now.
I blast my ****** up music as high as it can go
so the vibrations hit my arm hairs.
I need the sensation to remember I'm here
as I autopilot this car home.
Anything past my headlights isn't there,
and you can't tell me it is.
Anything closer is a day dream.
And the eye's the prize
because this isn't sweat rolling down my cheek, just my furrowed temple.
That's tears my friend
and salt is all the same when it stings into wounds.
Don't worry, though,
I'll be home soon.
For what that's worth nowadays.

I wonder if I could hang on
I say as I trip into the sun
never been one for balance
as Libras usually come

Bruises tell that in
a heartbeat I'd give myself
as foreign armor

I'll invade your dreams ,
wake you up in a bed sweat
make you sleepwalk through all the things you haven't felt yet
enough is never enough
but what I know is what I know
most things never need a spoiler warning
because they aren't fresh in the first place

365 days ago
I met you
well sort of anyways
in the strangest way
and 365 days ago
I would never know that impact
that is sorely does now
because a year ago I was a clean slate
and now I feel the reverberations
of strong words being forever scratched into my chest
tattooed into my sternum like the biggest regret
that the cover up story is "for the art"
though behind my teeth I know
false tones come from my throat