The rain paints
the world into
watercolors on my windshield.
Four lights shine
on the horizon just above
the hill where I went on a date once.
I remember him and I
had brought a blanket
to look at the stars that night.
We wrapped ourselves in it
and he kissed me and I felt
so loved then.
So in love.
With him? With love?
I don’t know;In love with something
In love with everything.
his hands made me drunk.
his hands made me really fucking
drunk
and his lips
his lips made me drunk,
too.
but i’ve never been
one for alcohol, really,
because wine makes me cry
and beer makes me angry.
i find the quietness i crave
amid the forest’s windy veins
where my mind can be at peace,
where my thoughts vacate with ease.
here my feet become my breath
and my mind one with the earth,
i come to realize my worth:
an atom in the universe.
When I was young,
my mother used to warn me
not to look right into
the Sun: I could damage my
eyes from the
heat.The first time I met you,
I could not look directly
into your eyes; I still
can’t.
I’d never expected
to find the Sun
burning
in them.
We as a species are always trying to find comfort in purpose, as if we need to justify our existence on this planet by having a ‘reason’ for being here. You do not need a purpose or a reason to be alive on this planet. You have a right to be here simply because you are.
Rather than seeking comfort in purpose, find freedom in understanding that you have no purpose, and that is okay. You alone are enough.
I. i saw your jar full of wrappers
and thought maybe you’d just developed
a sweet tooth recently. though
it never occurred to me that
white waxy wrappers
can carry
fun-dip powder and pixy stix, too.II. i knew something
was wrong when
clouds fogged your eyes (grey and heavy
with rain);
so heavy
they could not look straight.
so heavy
they kept sinking.III. at half past midnight you left
to ‘be right back.’
45 minutes later and i felt the thunder
shake the house; i knew
there would be rain
in your eyes.
At eight forty-five the next morning
(you normally never wake up before eleven),
you ‘stop at a friends’
before breakfast and return
empty-handed but eyes full,
veins full, blood full
of calm, full of ocean waves and
lullabies, full of
ice so cold you feel like you’re
on fire.IV. you are forgetting
more and more
about me these days. it seems
you’re drifting farther away,
farther into
your veins.V. i know that
i don’t know
how your mind rolls
on the tracks in your skull.
i never will
feel the hunger in your veins
for a needle that bites
so good. but every time a new
track mark paints your arm,
the train that’s riding them
runs over my heart.
my mother asked about you today.
i didn’t know how to explain
that your name
on my tongue is like
novocaine;
that i’ve been waiting so long
for the numbness to
fade.
If we are able to– with a clear conscience– call this Earth our mother while simultaneously abusing, destroying, and killing her, I am truly horrified to imagine how people must treat their earthly mothers.
I haven’t lived long, but I’ve lived long enough to know that closing myself off to the world doesn’t prevent pain; it only postpones it. I am learning to live with my heart off it’s hinges and the door wide open because pain is going to enter regardless. It is better to enjoy the time I have in the sun than waste it worrying about when it’s going to rain.
sometimes
reality is a red chevy 4X4 that
hits you at 103 mph–
windshield crashing
broken glassy
eyes
realizing all you want nearby
is someone to hold you–
sometimes it moves
too fast.
sometimes it leaves you
breathless.
Silenticel 