to be born

well i had to start a war
'cause my eyes were raw
& my fingers sore
from clutching dirt 
& gaping at the prairie

hd radio bullshit

i want to be
so sincere
& still not
myself here

to set up
some actual
parenthesis
around him

a space to
contain a
reality that
won't spill-
over into
all the little
lives he hides
from in his
head

& i want to
create it be-
cause it's the
same kind of
thing i've been
looking for
forever, so
why not

make one
for someone
else in the
meantime

how can i
tell you to
tell things
to me?

you can
talk to me
for hours about
anything, i don't
mind, i more
than don't mind
i prefer an
outside focus
a long draught
from a deep

well

all the
conversations
i want to have
don't know
i want them

so i sit here
fill my ears
with something
else & scan
the horizon of
all these empty
spaces

waiting
to be full of
reciprocation
& too much
truth

this dent is now a crater

we never get
our lines crossed

they run parallel
in the same
places
in the wrong
times

circle back
turn a rut
into a track

& never tell him
too far away
the want
in all the
having, or how

i retreat to
the comfortable
strangeness of him
if he lets me

my placeholding
subconscious

& now's another
time to lie in my
well-worn
one-man chasm
next to his
on this bedrock
tabletop

close but no
closer
survey the
topography

fingertips trace
strata, find
how often he
wound
words
around
& over me

angry, hurt
longing, sincere
bitter
bittersweet
sweet
words while

i would lie
& talk to myself
with my eyes
closed

it's this blink
& blanch
at what could have
been written
on my skin but
is left in lines
& layers

i press lips to
long ago & all
i taste is old dirt
dry on my tongue

so i believe in
fall but not
autumn anymore

there are motors
in the ground

but all i've
ever done is hold
on to another
thing or sound

feel the lightning

strands of september

pushed against
this word wall

in a slow
show dance
around tell
nots & knots

in tiny
spirals brick
by brick
to a long void
& low hum

poetry
a bird of prey
shrieked

sunk talons
through my shoulders
& flung me at
a halo moon

full of holes
& the hot
spread of my
own blood

too many
people say
all the same
things with
all the same
words

i want you
in these lines

not what you
think i want
in these lines

don't tell me
the heart
is heavy

tell me what
sound an
iron heart

away
from a
magnet
presence

makes when it
meets the ground

start putting
wrong words
together
instead

grey hours &
long breaths

find me regret
in being too much
of a thing
to hold onto

it's silent
& time dilates

as my last
words
edgeskirt
spaces where

it still won't
speak anything
beside that
blind stare

infinite hopes
scream
underneath
paper skin

crisp edges
of september
outline all my
pencil
possibilities

eyes
look like
they'd
look good
on me

they're knots
in all my
little nerve

endings
& bite marks
inside my

bottom lip

a diffusion
of self

across
every tiny
universe

each a tiny
stone, a
peace

pulled
from all
these places
where i lie

each a
little grey
good
bye

forever
echoing
low rumbles
of laughter

cups filled
with the taste
of my name
on other
tongues

just ash
& aches
of stars
between
sheets

listen long
enough
to miss it
entirely

only ever
effervescent

light in
periphery

last notes
hung on
silence

a timbre
i tell to
myself

roll me
thunder
between
fingers

all our
little ions
charge,
part, arc
electric

bare

against
black sky

a cloudburied
moon

pulls ripe
out to my edges

misseds

& mists

dark blurred
lines

slip sweet
to the end
of all my
sentences

lure me
with long casts

reel me in
by a gasp
hooked
in the back
of my throat

build me
in slow
curves

extend
me in
neverstraight
lines

pulse
on my lips
tremble
in fingertips

bury
bones
in me

don't let me
touch these keys
before 9

anymore

i'm serious
take this phone

hold back my
hands, cold

stab a bitch

something

oh help me
untangle

all the
explosions
beneath
those eyelids

study me
for what
doesn't waver

with devilish
glints over
sweet lips
holding
a sly grin

an eyebrow
to arch
my back

until i
climb out
of sleep

open an
eye &

decide to
fall back
into the abyss

where i am
a bedsheet
at 2 a.m.

when chill
& instinct
pull me
tight around

in sleep
with a slow-
turned shiver

today
i need

my empath
frequencies
set to white
noise & not

this hd
radio
bullshit

read me
in corners
where
you think i
can't see

& i feel all
my scars
start to burn

could i
beg to
be shown
devils in the dark
because i want
fire & horns
to hold onto

it's one
of those
mournings
where i woke
up a hundred
years older

tired of
constriction

& just
want to be
pulled
back
because
otherwise
i'll forever
slither
away

vaguery
stripped

seconds
bold &
underline
me

hands trace
void calls

i could've
left those
fingertips
unanswered

look but
don't touch

for the
longest
time just

to let me
stay
unreal
when i

needed to