i am running
in circles from
one dead end to another
with nothing to pour myself
into but the corners of these walls
that silently scream with
termites from within.and i’m suffocating myself
with warm whispers
in ziploc bags. little
presents; promises
that were made to be broken
by gentle arms and
gentler lips.
i am inhaling stale air.
what was once
fresh is now foul,
no longer breathable, no longer able
to sustain life.
birthdays,
thunderstorms, new relationships,
flowers blooming,
last goodbyes,
tears,
kisses,
weddings,
leaves falling,
sun setting,
first hello’s,
deep laughs that make your eyes
water and your stomach hurt,
sun rising,
long hugs,
flowers withering,
learning self love,
a small orb in a vast
universe spinning
on its axis three hundred and sixty six times
and me
learning to live
without you.
Do not forget that you are a flower, my love. You require both sunlight and rain in order to bloom.
You started off as an addiction with an exhilarating high, but you’ve dwindled into more of a habit.
well-water eyes like hands
reach into my chest to
squeeze my beating heart. to
stop the thumping.well-water eyes like drills
tear holes into soft tissue and
grind teeth down with
sandpaper stares.when the covers baptize me
in my own sweat,
i am not haunted
by the dead, but by the
living.in our own
Waterloo, well-water
eyes that drown me in
their dark waves of
self-doubt.well-water eyes everywhere,
making darkness permanent.
well-water eyes that
i have not yet learned how to escape.
it makes sense now, you
being born during hurricane season:
the way your eyes melted
into clouds,
the way you spoke in rain,
the way you tore apart the ground
beneath my feet
(you made it look graceful, though).
you were my life’s greatest
metaphor,
and you’ve left me
looking for explanations
in every corner.
the controller is here
in my hands,
but i can’t move
my thumbs.this video game keeps going
and i am on autopilot:
an endless cycle,
straddling the line between here
and somewhere else.i know i’ve been on the other side,
i just can’t remember when
and i’m waiting for the day
that i feel awake again.
take a breath before
you jump off the deep end,
child.
don’t you want to see
the canyons around you before
you commit
yourself to a cubicle?run, and feel the breeze
in your hair before
you put on your suit and
tie. your hands
have yet to touch
so much.the paper they give you
is only worth what you
let it be.
don’t let it boss you around.take your head out of your
computer screen
and put it back in the clouds.
write it all down.
pour your mind on the paper–
all of it:
every passing
thought
every hiccup
every mistake
every “i can’t believe…”
every disaster
every painful memory.
put it all on the lines.
and when you’ve squeezed your sponge dry,
take a wet brush and paint
the words into colors
shapes
noises
textures.
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.
Silenticel 