downhill

When you say you want to touch me
I think of paintings. Now
I just think of paintings.
Thinking of sinking ships
and us in them. Holding hands.
I’m afraid of holding dead things.
I can try for you,
slippery hands, throbbing chest, warm skin.
Showing up to keep you fed.
The ship won’t go anywhere but down.
I’ll stay longer, if you tell me
you know that.
I want to hold you with love
but darling we were never in love.
We were never going anywhere
but I packed my bags all the same
because it’s always like this.
Never knowing where I’m going,
where we are going.
I just wanted someone to hold my hand,
hold me down. Honeymoon phase,
always so sweet. You drew me in,
now I’m slipping out.
Can you think of me? I’m
thinking of you and that’s why
a part of me wants to hold this
till the end.

weights

The chest pains mean conflict 
mean look inside. 
“Aren’t you tired?” I whisper to my body.
I cradle myself like I can disappear.
Cradle myself how I want to be held. 
Cup my tears before they hit the ground.
Accidentally reabsorb what I’m trying 
to let go. Sticky heavy residue marks this body. Sadness seeps late at night, alone
is how I collapse. 
I turn the lights off. Say it’s just shadows, 
just the moonlight dancing on my skin. 
Just the dark, just that night, just this night.
“I’m just so fucking tired” I whisper into myself. 

numbers dwindling 

Let me count the ways 
this could go. We’ve got chances and multiuniverse theory. We’ve got time
and I have enough courage 
to meet you halfway. 
I wish you’d show me the ocean when it’s calm too.

You make me think of water and 
other things running. A way 
is all I ask for. I’m a lighthouse
calling your name to me. 
I’m tying myself down, rope in mouth
rope on skin, holding us down.
When it’s said and done 
we’ll make it or we won’t. 

race to cycles 

Like feeling so relieved
you could puke.
So relieved you can’t breathe.
So relieved your body
doesn’t know how to
not be in high gear.
Doesn’t know what it means
to have enough air to breathe.
Too much air to breathe.
Like fall to your knees
I could weep because
I don’t know how to
thank the stars and universe
that somehow it worked out.
For a little while. Resetting
the countdown clocks,
I don’t know any other sounds
lately but ticking bombs.
I flinch with loud calls and clocks. 
Reminders. Reminders. Reminders.
How am I suppossed breathe when everything is a countdown?
Everything is a cycle and a race
to the next line
that looks like the last line
that looks like mirror
against another mirror. 
I don’t know any way to push forward
that doesn’t also snap me back. 
Don’t know any ways out of holes 
except building into new ones.
Don’t know how I’ve made it again,
to the next line anyway… 

dead things

The bird on the floor is dead and I am always speaking in metaphors.
I do not know if it is kind or cruel to
leave the bird there.
When the living become dead why do we let nature take care of some
but not others?
You are always bringing more dead things, you know that I am just trying to keep them alive. Keep us alive.
Hades, baby, our room is getting cramped.
You need to let go of some dead things.
You think the ghosts won’t leave.
Look at me, I’m here and I don’t want to die.
Don’t want to be your fucking ghost.
Don’t say you’d love me more.
Don’t think if you kill me, I’ll have to stay.
Don’t tell me about resurrections, 
call this what it is.
Murder.

games

We are playing wackamole and you’re never hitting me
but I feel it all the same. Tell me why you need to feel vengeful.
We are playing operation, you can’t keep coming for my heart and
the butterflies are dead. I know you kill them before others can.
We try for the wishbone, no one wins if it doesn’t break.
We are playing tag but you never come near me, never touch me
with your hands, just your eyes, don’t tell me it’s counts.
We are playing back and forth but we are not playing back and forth.
We are playing chess and it’s your turn, it’s your turn. I’m waiting on
your turn. It doesn’t count if we only play in our minds.  Fuck, I missed your move.
You are a step ahead, but only if I move. Last move, last piece.
My king, frozen, like me. Stalemate. The only draw I want, you into me.
We’re playing, you say “I’m just fucking playing”.
I hate these games, and it’s your turn again.