when i lay on my back my eyes close instinctively
it’s only when the creeping, crawling starts that i even know pleasure & pain –
the pinpricks read right to left
i can see through my skin, can you?
what color is my light? is this even skin?
my hands move but i cannot recognize them
slender spiders attached to spindle sticks somehow connected to a pump –
a heart –
my heart –
were they always made of leather?
my eyes are blank
the moons are too
does this mean what i hope it may mean?
can you see through my skin, too?
i’ll sit up
warmth emanates from a fire in my core
can you see me?
the moon is dead but she still pulls on me

how is it i can be so heavy while my feet never touch the ground?

when your face lengthened, I knew I could never trust you – how much else of yourself had you kept hidden?

I fell into the rug and became a pattern.

Your hands dripped on me when you at last tried to untangle my physical being from those threads but I had already decided to stay among them.

i want you to fall into my eyes –
or perhaps i’d prefer to fall into yours?

can i put my face in your face?

when you leave, i leave
i exist only in your presence
i wonder what i look like
you’ll never tell me because you think i know

but how could i know?

i exist solely for you, because of you

I don’t have to breathe
vestigial lungs sit heavy in my ribs
sometimes I fill them up just to cough out dust and cobwebs
byproducts of neglect
I’d like to remove them
but how would I breathe you in
imagining your hands reaching down my throat
a strong grip and you pull them out
(don’t you know I’d do anything for you?)
outside of my body they can breathe
unlike me
they fly far away on the wind of their own exhalations
what once was heavy is now empty
like me
I want to fill it back up with you
you wipe my blood across my collarbone
it drips down into my belly button
draw shapes on my abdomen
they’ll never wash off
chest collapsing inward
I’m begging you to go and never look back

there’s no use talking to people who have home.
they have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people.
for home to be wherever you lie your head.

bubblegum

you said I was sweet
I joke, ‘bite me’
you did, you chewed
you chewed the flavor right out of me
I thought that at least if you swallowed me I’d be stuck inside of you for seven years
you spat me out instead
now I live flattened on the bottom of someone else’s shoe

Gestalt Dream Work

I am the unnamed kitten.
Everyone closes their eyes around me because they’re afraid I’ll scratch them out but I never scratch anyone.
I run as fast as I can from unoccupied room to unoccupied room, I am afraid when anyone comes into my empty room, I am afraid because they want me to love them yet they close their eyes, I’ve never scratched anyone, I just move fast and am afraid.
Why don’t I have a name?
Why can’t I go outside?

fences

live fast
die faster
people always want me around to put them back together as they are falling apart
where are they now that I am falling apart?

nofriends2017

I used to be the best of friends with people in transition. When they were new or unsettled, they would latch to me, another unsettled person, for social support.

But I remain alone in that I do not settle. And when the others did, they no longer needed me and they forgot me.

As though I wasn’t there for them when they needed it, they forgot. They found their new social support and I disappeared, no longer relevant to their experience. They forgot me.

No one has stuck long enough for me to settle. No one has seen me through.

I stopped making friends.

I wish I could attribute this quote!!

“When ‘sorry’ laps at the back of your tongue, tries to pick up after you, remind yourself that your existence doesn’t demand an apology, that you are allowed to make mess and take up space, do not be afraid to expand.”