andromeda

Hi! I'm jace (or jupiter or andromeda 💫)

I like space, purple, music, writing, poetry, and art :)

My pronouns are it/its, my gender is a void

I have two wonderful amazing partners (woo polyamory)

One who is desperate enough for it

To bless my water heater

So when I turn my shower on as hot as it can go

I can wash away all my sins

And when I hold my head underwater in the tub

Does he rip open his own chest just to make sure his own heart is still beating?

Does he make the blood into a poem for you?

If you leave a poet alone in the night what happens to him?

Does he rip out his own heart because he can’t stand the sound it it beating? Does he put it in his mouth to taste what it feels like to be alive?

If you leave me alone in the night, what happens to me?

That is to say

When your hands do not work I will take care of you

That is to say 

I love you 

I show you the orange peel that was a nearly one strip in tact 

“Look how almost perfect this almost was” 

You smile 

You throw it away

You wash the dishes

You clean your hands

You take the orange and split it down the middle 

You offer me half 

“No” I think 

“It’s yours” I plea in my head 

But I take it 

Because how could I deny you?

I think you were waiting for me to [stumble, fall, fail]

I think you wanted me to [skip, misstep, topple]

And when I did [slide, lapse, miscalculate]

Trip

And the neon sign buzzes like it always does 

Sometimes I think I can hear it 

An engine turning over before roaring to life 

But the headlights escape me like the stars behind the clouds every night 

If I go far enough I can’t tell if I’m looking out or up 

All my happiest moments are with you [and?]

I almost 

Missed my turn 

I almost 

Ended up at your [and?] house 

I wish I could sit with the contentedness 

Put it on my chest like a bandage 

My bones refuse to rest until they find

Until they find

Until they find…

What?

A second chance? A tomb? Tomorrow?

They seek, eyes searching

I walk down Chinatown, I walk through the garden, I walk into the door

Alone

The inherent heartache of an empty hand

A quarter of the bones in my body balled into a fist

A quarter of the bones in my body hidden in the jacket pocket of a jacket that isn’t mine

Follow the southern star or the northern star or maybe I should be looking at what’s in front of me

I’ve wandered into Maine or Amsterdam or July

The inherent heartache of having a heart

It beats but it’s not mine

I hold it in my chest but it’s not mine

I put it in my hands but it’s not mine

I wear it on my cheek, on my sleeve, on every part of me, but it’s not mine

It aches and aches and aches

For what?

I set myself on the operating table

And I see myself

Gently, methodically

Take the scalpel from the tray

And I watch myself

Calmly, forcefully

Cut my chest open

I wonder why I don’t stop myself

The loved ones

Once loved 

And yet my brain recognizes this stranger in a city we’d never call home 

It’s noon. I can’t follow the sunrise. 

A broken compass that only ever pointed to you 

But you never believed it 

Your shape 

Small in the distance 

I walk farther 

There’s a reason it’s still

I

Collect empty glass bottles I didn’t finish

And candle holders that have long since burned out

And all the boxes I receive are broken down in my closet

Why do things suddenly become useless when they are empty?

I can’t bear the thought

Of being hollowed out

I can’t handle the heat of the covers on me 

And yet 

Our backs are to each other, touching

I throw my leg over yours. You throw your arm behind you. 

We interlock our knuckles

We become contortionists, but it comes natural 

Naturally, how could we not intwine