There are no more ways to feed me.
I wrote you the most beautiful bowl of fruit;
but my words were twisted up in
the flames of your
nodding its heads under
We are made up of the same piece of sky.
And I can’t leave, you can’t leave,
we’ve tried; and
we’ve tried to mix up our miseries
and we can’t even do that right.
I will look for you
in the crowd of my personalities.
Hold me, hold us, hold, don’t stop.
You are the vast ocean, but I’m every drop.
Swallowing your anger
is an empty pill that
makes me hungry.
When did he stop roaring? And why.
The way he opens up claws stream from his tongue and lift me onto a higher cloud. A fortress in the tone of
anthems and access.
Give him back the way he holds up the universe with a rumble, throat tumble, vocal mumble, where did mine go?
If it gets too loud in this cafeteria we’ll hold up a sign and shackle closed your chords, and if you even let out a hiss of a whis
per, we’ll drag you outside the crowd to your own separate table. We’ll take your voice and your name and your squad and you’ll punch your own head repeatedly because we said “shame” and you didn’t
know any better.
I awoke dreaming into the same town where my dreams take me in sweet encumbrance, always lonely, pacing or running, to or from, they are the same.
There is a castle there but I rarely go in, because I followed him once, screaming that I could not love him, into a basketball hoop forest, and arenas where the ground is caked with sandy blood.
Another time, I waited tables in a red and yellow diner with no walls, but they fired me for never showing up. “I am only here every so often,” I tried to explain, “like Pevensies and Michael J Fox.”
The lake once poured forth crocodiles, barely chewing the toes of my howling infants, breaking my mind with biting consistency.
And the hedge maze: cowering trampolines hide there, and rope bridges pass over elegant swamps.
Beyond a chipping playground, red paint and lead nightmares, lies the cave.
I wandered there this time, and upon arriving, felt your presence. I looked up and breathed. You had written my name, a thousand times, a thousand ways, a thousand cuts. I curled up inside your handwriting
like a closed tomb,
like a fragrant ocean,
like a pulsing womb,
like a rocking motion.