JengaI can’t go crazy again. I am building a pyramid, a massive tower of poorly balanced bricks. Every relationship, every friendship, rides on this. I cannot go crazy again. Everything would fall.Rumi and Hafiz. All the references to the Sun are what does it. I am pushed back in time to two years ago. Wild with joy.I never felt it again. Perhaps I never will. To feel it would destroy my tower, now balanced through months of careful stacking.Everything used to make perfect sense, although to everyone else I was chaos incarnate. Everything I do now is distraction. I am a flicker on the water, refusing to look down into the depths, refusing to look up into the stars. I am simply here. The beauty is gone. Only a half glimpse per month. Almost every sentence begins with “I remember”. Sloppy happy. Sloppy all over the place happy. I learned to cook without recipes th
Chaos Soupmy thoughts don’t seem to press well together, now a dirty tangle of threads instead of the once-bright tapestry. I can’t think what picture must be woven, the one so clear to me a week ago today is dim as dreams, thick fog, impenetrable. (I was somewhere else) or Soon, I will find myself waking up, shaking sweating and relieved. I will pour myself into your arms. “I had the worst dream....” Reality will be blinding us, sunrise through picture windows. This will not happen. The only present-tense that weakens my eyesight is darkness. I feel my way through four hundred days, scrape my shin on five hundred and seventy six thousand minutes, the miles an impossible maze between us. The time, moreso. This is not anguish. This is dull, confused, gray-skies ache. Your “I love you” feels more like a bruise than a promise. I am becoming far too skilled at goodbye poetry.
feathersescape becomes worthlesshow ridiculous would you feelrunning away with no onechasing you downso test the ropesI was the last kid on the playgroundto learn to tie knotsand you arenot my kitedogor balloon-trappedheliumdon’t wait for me to bear-trap youtameyou and me: the differenceI’ve burned far too many prison cellsto lock you up anywhereyou’ve clipped enough wingsto fear a cage from anyone youtouch
zooher voice is cream overcoffee, made unbittercarefully palatableeyes, twin snake-bitesthe most unfortunate ofharsh beautiesdo not touchdo not feedher teeth are the greedinessof bear traps,she is lonely enoughto never let go.
highThere are people who find the truth boring.Me, I caught honesty like an addiction to the rarest of drugs. I've been frequenting alleyways looking for a fellow junkie since my first night doing lines of sincerity with you in the back corner when we were still strangers. Clear eyes, clean hearts. The crash back into reality, to deceitfulness and calculated smiles nearly killed me.I've been living in the withdrawals for far, far too long.
newThe places we escape toeventually becomethe places we escapefromyou told meI will be the same personwherever I gomy soul caged upin the same bodyregardless ofwhich constellations light up myeyesclipped wingsstilldreaming offlight
residueyou know usuallyI can forget men,I can forget themfast, express-mailedamnesia, neither snow norsleetfor every natural disaster thatbegan with a sunrisethere is a deep calm where Ikeep myselfafterspidercaught in my headwebyou are either betterthan the rest, or far, farworse.