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endless desire
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don't even pretend that you understand
(which you don't and for some reason that hurts so much more)
i can't explain why, but i need these relations
to flow through my veins and into my brain
so i don't feel so completely alone where im standing.
& i sit on this chair, day in and day out
dreaming of distance expanses
that i want to reach out [and grasp]
with the tips of my fingers.
i fix the entire incident in my mind
as they slide out like drops of water
and thin paper dust in the midst of my wrinkles.
i can't even tell you where to hide
because i haven't found a place to nestle myself
between the corners and the lies that surround me.
i want to crawl on the grass and the pull earth from the ground
and wrap myself in it until im safely burried where ive fallen down.
yes, no one can wake me because they can't find me
in my sanctuary of thick soil i soke within. i breathe it through gills
& and it's better than the salty smell of the beach
or the mist on those after-rain wednesdays.
my brother yells at me for things i haven't done
and im trapped in these screens stealing more songs
and i can't seem to put together this thousand piece puzzle.
but if you could just hold my shivering hands
as the teeth on my nails chatters with sand
& i can't seem to decipher the codes that they're speaking.
i have a wedding today at the back of my throat
and it's itching the tickle that i can only reach with stories of mia.
i am tempted by words that i haven't yet formed
in the depth of my belly to onlooker's words full of scorn--
i would tell you the truth, but you'd probably turn your full back on me.
ive been left by the scanner where im printing my hands,
because they're amazed by their scars and the world that they've traveled.
you see, i can't remember the facts of my life,
and i wonder if that means that there's no point in my living.
i don't see why i spend my days in such a intricate pattern
when i can't even calculate what i had for dinner last thursday.
so im thinking, if i can't remember these things that ive done
than why do i bother to practice such deep-seeded menus
and forums and stitches that only cross in misplaced corners.
i know that you're looking me with uneasy eyes and it's time
to unfold all the myths and the lies that im holding between
the sheets and the clothing that covers my oh-so-tainted seasons.
i sit on my bed and write novels in my head,
but i can't bare to speak them on paper,
because the endings are never these clever responses to actions
regretted in past years. i'd tell my whole story if i could possibly
find some ridiculous closure that movies have taught me to long for.
i don't dare edit these sprawling words and ive promised myself
not to add a single "backspace" to the mix of this running
creation of conscious. and if you want to shame with me with crooked
eyes and false stares than i'll just shut mine tight
and pretend i don't care,
but you should truly know that im crying behind my tears.
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061025
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