Rumination is now digital.
Misery’s greatest gift.
“This is for your own good,” they say
as if anyone knows anything at all.
Did the tree really ever fall then?
Was it in Sept? No, December?
No way to tell doesn’t mean there’s no way to remember.
I still hold the spaces that weigh me down.
Still have the things I’ll never look at.
A hidden box labeled “esophagus”.
Hidden thoughts named “avoid”.
I want to hold on as if
something else is actually holding back.
“This is for your own good,” I say.
I hope, I think, I know.
I honestly don’t know.
Facing denial I gently hold her hand
and say “It’s time.”
Love the dirt turned soil,
layers learn how
to hold as it’s pounded.
What it means to balance
not smother. Create the home
of dead and living.
What I mean to say
is some bodies have hands
meant for growth.
Which is to say something else.
I’m in love like honeymoon over and
baby being next to you is the best
best fucking part of my day
and yes my humming hymns are for you
and no I don’t know when I changed
but you say you want something and I think “me too”. I’m screaming inside
with love for you and no you won’t
hear it all the time. Something
about skin and lips and doors
that can’t open easily.
Peek under the door and know it’s
all for you. Put your ear to the floor,
baby it’s all fucking for you.
Reframing words around my tongue
like hands rolling glass back and forth.
Reframing in a way that does not sound
like I want to cry.
Awareness is the understanding
that there is a knot of different colors
evoking emotions that I need to untie
so I can understand.
What is an emotion
that has different voices?
Under a layer of me
is another and another.
Look I don’t make the rules.
Blame the stars for making
me oh so fucking me. Looking
into birth charts, that agree
I hide too many things,
I don’t even fucking know why.
Let’s be honest that is a lie.
There’s power in knowing so
I’m always running towards it.
There’s power in saying things
out loud and it still scares the shit
out of me.
Two hands deep in ocean loose sand,
struggle harder, I wonder about the lessons
of nature. Why we try to be
anything other than what we are.
Always trying to transcend and be human
and then not. Can we blame
anything for how we are built?
Something about falling.
Something about staring at trees
that know how to speak back.
I am always listening for rooted
meanings. Something about beginnings
gets me every time.
What’s there left to say to you, except
what’s been caught in my throat since
sophomore year of college, or
something like that.
I still wonder
are you capable of loving anyone
Awful and appealing at once.
It didn’t make sense
but now it does, by that I mean
it really doesn’t and that’s the core.
You never were a stop sign
just a dead end,
just that’s it,
just it’s exactly like
what it seems.
All I know is
when I watch apocalyptic shows
I suddenly am praying,
to no one actually,
that we make it each time.
I want the simplest things
with you. Suddenly it doesn’t
matter where we live or how
I just want us together
invisible and fucking
oblivious to the world ending.
My love is sunlight,
through a window in the morning,
you’ll miss it at first.
There are more metaphors here
so think carefully.
What I mean to say is you won’t
realize how warm I am till
you are bathed in me.
If there’s something I know
how to do right it’s
trying to love.
Hold yourself against me and
watch how I consume you.
Holy is just a word till it’s not.
You were just a person
till you were not.
Lover do you see the coincidence?
I’m waiting for you to come to bed.
Earlier you said you wanted my feelings
so I throw them right at you.
Want the truth,
sometimes it’s hard to give a shit
when you’re so tired. I’m so fucking
tired. I’m looking at the floors again.
I’m bending backwards and you
don’t know why I can’t just snap and
fit next to you. So we don’t see
eye to eye. Baby I love you
but don’t ask me to step in the ring
and not go for the heart.