Sometimes I Catch Myself Not Breathing.

She cries tears of stars and seas,

desperate to fill infinity.

I rub the blanket across my cheek, trying to ground myself.

I feel your skin instead burning and intrusive. Grating on me.

I feel like I'm floating. I'm off in a dream.

Experiencing horrors I've already seen.

My breathing is heavy. I try not to scream.

I scrub at my skin. It never gets clean.

It's sun down now. The early stages of it, where the sky is still full of light and color. The clouds are thick an mountinous. And completely still in the sky.

The big lumbering breaths are blushed pink around the edges. Deep scores of grey over every curve and crevice. Dense and almost palpable.

It looks like a painted back drop.

And I have no where else to look.

Unwanted suitor

I'd like to say there's a light in your eyes but baby I haven't seen it.

I'd like to blush and bat my eyes but baby I wouldn't mean it.

I could say we talked and fell all night, but that would be bull.

I could say you were mysterious, but I found you're rather dull.

I tried to be nice the first seven times, you really can't take a hint.

So I'll spell it out for you.

G E T B E N T

Matter cannot be created or destroyed.

that's the rule of the universe.

You've always existed in some way.

and no matter how many times you get blown apart;

The gravity of your atoms will drag you back together.

Tearing your self apart is futile.

It's nuclear fission.

You only salt the earth in your despair.

Tear open the black hole just for the gravity well to drag you under.

The only escape is expansion.

Hyper fixating is all fun and games when you're working on a project or cleaning your house or consuming media or completing a task.

but have you ever hyper fixated on a person? You ever thought about someone night and day. Daydreamed about them. Had conversations in your head with them. Let them consume your every moment until they were the first thing you thought of in the morning and the last thing you thought of at night?

This isn't a cheesy love song this is real life and that shit will make you sick. Make you forget yourself. Make you change yourself. Make you neglect yourself.

They're never gonna be like the version you've cooked up in your head and you deserve to move on.

She tastes like the metallic burn of blood.

She smells like the pop of wood as the fire consumes it.

She feels like the static that clings to your clothes.

She looks like lightning as it cracks the sky.

And he fancies himself Zeus.

Don't you just hate it when you get the chance to talk. Like finally talk for the first time in forever. And you know it's been a while since you started but everyone else talks all the time so what if you go on for a while. But now people are changing the subject and the conversation is rolling naturally in another direction like conversations are supposed to do. But you weren't done and you can't move the conversation backwards so you just get quiet. Quiet like you always are. And you don't know how long it's gonna be this time before you can talk again.

Colors under my skin

There's violet and lavender and lilac.

Like deep bruising, like sleepless night, like cold anemic skin.

It hurts somewhere between the cold defeat of blue and the hot anger of red.

But it's comforting too, like acceptance; acknowledgment; the first step to getting better.

And there's yellows too

Marigold and dandelion and polished bronze.

It's like warm sunshine, like soft flower petals, like sturdy statues.

It's encouraging; hotter and more pure than red but never as close as the color of life.

But it's intimidating too; like the mythical idea of being okay.

I don't consider myself particularly religious.

But I think I might understand why rural areas are so full of superstition.

Not out of an antiquated idea of ignorance.

But because if you've ever seen dawn bleed red into the dying breath of a bright white night, then you'd know God too.