don't take me back just remember me a feeling

 there was a time when I didn't eat

when I counted the minutes between calories

fed myself on the relief of deception

I've never remembered so keenly

anything like I do those few remembered meals

the white rice still sticks in my mouth

the tang of barbecue on my tongue decision's ghost

cold peas bursting between noodle and sauce

my life's victory a caramel

a caramel I never ate

how sick am I 

that tonight I long for that hunger?

spaces between goodbye

i love you

in every bright

and quiet

place

until the stars

have joined us

and the silence 

is final

and even then 

i love you

until the  very moment

"a little further"

has become a lifetime 

stretching 

our little eternities

to forever

and beyond 

SurRouNd

when I was young
Colors had Faces
letters had genDers
And spoons
Never got along with the forks

now
Now my emotions
Have feelings too
And when my pen
spills out
numbers
they tell me their life stories

4
Is my favorite number
Because she knows what it is like
To be told who she is
And 9
Will always be my CAMpfire villain
My water bottle Is a she
And she
Does not much care for tulips or birds
My pillow
Is a diVa
Who never gets her way

Months are Never just Days
days
Are slightly more than just dates
And when I spell out their names
Their letters greet each other i n d i v i d u a l l y
Before becoming the word as a whole

So

sO
So

So who am I to say I am never Alone
When every pEtal on my bedspread
Never Fails
To welcome me home

to be seen is to be perceived

I'm not afraid of death
I am afraid of dying
I'm not afraid of eternity
I am afraid of the future

I'm afraid of relationships
I can't stand not to have them
love me
I beg
without knowing I exist

insignificantly significantly significant

I am cosmically small. 
A tiny, insignificant speck of a girl lost to the rivers of time, helpless to the vast expanse of existence. 

And yet. . . I house thought, and heart, and spirit. 

My body is a beacon of billions of microorganisms. I do not understand my utter insignificance, but I attempt to, and isn't that significant? 

Today, I feel special as I look at the molded yellow walls of the bathroom. I feel important as my knotted curls drip water and conditioner. I could not change the rotation of the Earth if I tried, yet I am a part of the universe; That is significant.

After Image

Some part of me wants to be whole, however, my heart disagrees. My heart and my mind and my throat want to be erased. They want to disappear without a trace. To cease existing seamlessly. Balanced and beautiful in death. 

My tongue wants silence. Heady heavy silence. The kind that melts on your shoulders and stiffens your joints. My eyes, soulful soulless little creatures, want to talk. To convey through dance and sing through sorrow. 

I won't let them. 

I won't let them. 

I can't let them. 

Save my hands, that's all I ask. They alone have seen all I have done.

stones on the floor of my tongue

there is a torrent of words I long to unleash

from behind the ivory bars of my teeth

and the prison guard of my tongue

my body is a vessel

a capsule

a container

my body is a mess of symbolism

and imperfect perfection that trembles on the edge of resplendence

I could not name

my pulsing organs

or introduce you to my nerves and capillaries

but

I can show you

the way they sing

in the depths of my being

knit tight and held close by blood and bone and gristle

string my blood vessels along

and tie my hands tight with their ends

drain my fragile wrists dry

and drink deep from the well of my eyes

where are my pearly bones hiding

that you must search so avidly for them

how can I hide my tendons

after you have asked so nicely for them

how did I manage to lose

the only lungs I ever owned

and why did they elope

with my silk walled kidneys

my heart has lost her head

and weeps into the skirts of my bladder

while her lover

my ears

long for what's inside her

a chill

reminiscent

and fond

whispers sweet nothings to my stubborn spine

while whatever else inside me

                   shivers

deep

           and dying

help is a cry for the desolate

there is a word
trapped in the bars of my throat
sinking slow
to the depths of my belly
heavy
heavy
heavy
in the doorway of my lungs

someone
pry it
from my sandpaper tongue
from my paper paste saliva

someone
set
me
free

Sleep Soft and Desperate

fatigue
swims
in the pools of my iris

sporadic
energy
curling in my fingers

why
should
I exist

when
existence
weighs upon my heart

delicate
sad
lost to the ravages of time

and
my
blood cries for fear

of
what
lurks in my breast

Rhythmic Repetition is Really Rather Revealing

repetition scares me
it scares me
scares
me
repetition scares me

when I repeat my letters
I worry
worry
that some will find me simple
simple

when I say what I mean
too many times
when I say
when I say
when I say
my words too many times
an abyss opens up
opens up
and it screams
it screams my words back at me

What do I do
with my repeating letters
where do I put
the overused
overexposed
syllables on my tongue
how do I console
my depreciating
punctuation
how
how do I stop the declining value of my soul

There is a word market
smelling
of paper and paste
ringing
ringing ringing ringing
with pages turning and covers singing
a stall of phrases
and a vendor for articulation

I stand on the corner
pen in hand
heart
in
my
ears
and I write
with curling lines
words that mean things
in another's eyes
I write
and I write
and I write
until these ink and paper letters
have a twin sibling each
until
each line
is identical to another
until one is the same as the other and another is a brother to a word that could be his mother and they are all being smothered by a repeat performance of one more

"words!" I cry, "words for sale!"
and in a basket at my feet, there are a dozen price tags each to words that are all the same
dollars for some and cents for most
and some
many
all
do not have a price
because I cradled them gently
and whispered their worth
where only they could hear

"words words words words words words to good homes!
words for you to sing
and words for you to love
and words
words
words
for evenings spent alone
and dinners eaten in silence
and moments eternities instances when your thoughts are too loud!"

I pitch my sales
and shout my deals
and the words in the basket
at my feet
smile sweetly
and know
that they already have a home
and that it is with me

because
I love my repeating words
that I handled with care
when I placed them there
in the basket that shows no prejudice to the spares
they are my words
I love them
and they
love
me