They look me in the eye and lie,
claim that their friendship is still there
when it’s already gone down the drain
and all I can see now
are all the ways we once were.
Now my attempts at contact
drift off like we’d never met,
collecting themselves in the past
where we burry our dead
beneath layers to fool ourselves
that even grass can grow
where bullshit lies
and all those years
were never meant to be anything
other than slight of hand handshakes.
There’s a broken bottle by the sidewalk
and it’s inviting me to clean.
The edges rage against my hands
like they wanted to be open,
like the blood in my veins
just needed a little air,
like it was feeling a little blue
and needed something
to make it blush.
I’m too sensitive for this shit,
waiting for replies
leaves me feeling disposed,
like the world
actually owed me something
and all my friends
had nothing better to do,
but like so many other things,
this is just in my head,
just beyond my reach,
locked behind my eyes
and between my ears
where all these thoughts
trigger things that don’t even make sense.
All I am sometimes
is the person I’m trying to be,
this vessel of anger
hunting down the right excuses
and trying to see the light.
I identify as nothing,
not due to these aspects of depression,
but rather this love of moving through identities,
the way my face might smile, or worse.
I just get lost in nomadic relationships
where the things that make me happy
might as well be rotating
like some wheel on a game show.
Her sunglasses are too big for her face,
like she was keeping her expression a secret
and while I try not to look
I still wonder what she looks like.
Someone tailgated by sadness
and sideswiped by sunlight.
Her body shimmers
with the shaking bus
until all that’s left is an empty blue seat
waiting for reincarnation.
Writing an erotic poem should be impossible.
Transcribing an action spoken only through intensity
in a language that exists
between the mind
Sometimes when I interact with friends I cant help but wonder why they’re different sometimes. Sometimes it seems like there’s something on their minds, I can see the change in their eyes when they look at me. I can hear it on the tip of their tongue with every word that gets switched out to be held back. If all you have is a headache, I’ve got some Tylenol. If all you need is to vent some frustrations, I’ve got empty ears. If you just need some solitude, my entire body can give it to you by leaving. But if there is something you want to say, or ask…don’t rely on body language to dance around topics that, at the very least, deserve articulation. Even the thoughts we have need air to breathe.