musings

I am in that ocean

I am still, sinking slowly

The water draws lines around my skin

A thin border between me and immersion

As I go down I think

Of how peaceful not thinking shall be

I am dust in your hands

let the wind carry me

My dreams are hazy

Just faces last night

A vague serenity

A fading sorrow

All I'm asking

In my newfound insomnia

Is

Whose face did I dream of?

The air smells of rain or dew

I wish I could drink it

Instead my words are stupid

---

Her words have hard edges

While her lines look

Soft

I think of her at 5 am

And can't fall back asleep

Maybe I'm already asleep

The light comes dead

Today the sun's another star

Nighttime image

A burnt pixel

Today the world seems so far

Away

And why

And why

Do echoes destruct

Scratchy carpet

Crusted blood

Dry vomit

Everything exumes intensity

Stale cigarettes

Dirty dishes

Cracking bones

Sore muscles

Take a drag

Take a shot

Take a dab

Anything

When it's hard to remember

It's hard to

Let go

Of anything

No matter how small

No matter how much it feels like garbage

When I was a child I'd collect trash from the ground

It was hard to see

Something discarded

Sometimes I feel discarded

Like trash

Tainted

Filled with a rottenness that cant be purged

And still

When I throw things away

They linger

In my fingers

And then I'm god

Saying good bye

Before I rid myself of something

No one wants

You can find me in the landfills

You can find me by the dumpsters

Looking for whats been tossed away

Wonder what makes wind

Perhaps it is the breath of the universe

It is morning

Here

It can be anywhere

Everyday I wake up

Coming into consciousness, sweetly

I remember nothing matters

Unless I want it to

And I am okay

I plucked the fruit from a tree in a garden

As I walked past

I hope you don’t mind if I borrowed it from you

I took it to the sink and rinsed it

Holding it in my hands

I sliced it and added sugar

I put it in a pot on the stove and

brought it to a boil.

It thickened and I ladeled it out

Now its on the shelf

Maybe I’ll have it for breakfast

dreams are dripping from my eyes.

Find me in a place between the

nightsky and morning.

I'll linger in the spaces between

the forgotten and the nonexistant.

I think I'll drink a cup of tea with Hypnos

and steep it in chaos.

He'll offer milk to drown the bitterness

"They'll hurt"

and they do.

Every one, a reminder of how

I split open.

I don't get them anymore.

They hurt to heal.

But healing hurts more

so my trash is filled with

bloody tissue

bandage wrappers

and something else I can't place

that seeped out that first

time

I spilled my own

It can sting

"Don't try to get from him

what you can't find in yourself."

There are many empty shelves

I think they once were filled

Write the first line

Write the second

Don't think too much about what makes a poem

Bathe in your hatred of petty rhymes

And unwelcome adjectives

Pause

For too long, searching for a verb

Continue

In menotony

Trying to actually say something

Say nothing

Write the last line

And another

Trying to tie it together

The sidewalk when Im standing under an eave and it's raining heavy

Highways, sitting in the passenger side

The frontsteps of people I haven't told I hate

I like

Imaginary lines

I draw them in my mind

Boundaries, semantic and schematic

Somehow

I find myself

In a different timezone

It's ethereal

Day is when I know it

Nighttime is when I don't

There's a comfort in clocks

Yet more without them

The best sleep is when

She said "build a wall"

So I'm looking for bricks

They're scattered on the hillside

Strewn among wildflowers

Like old dreams

I can only hold so many in my arms

And an armful never felt so empty

Bring sunset to my throat

Break my surface

I want to dive into your mind