︎︎︎
WHICH MEANT
My head pretends to rest on my hand reaching
the palm against the forehead. Skin must touch
skin first so that everything can begin.
I am in a small world down here inside a big hoodie,
looking at my order history, thinking about
what I’ve filled the void with.
I see the crumbs in the bread. I see our lack of mastery in the word choice.
I feel guilty for postponing abundance theory.
Can I apply you knowledge? Would you like to
see me in a dress today so we disagree on one less thing?
It never occurred to me before
the option to stop holding the world.
I kept it all brief, very brief,
I drew a chronometer on paper,
waited until it started ticking.
My hand took the blame, for holding it tight, almost crushing,
for the shaky footage, for pushing you away arranging a fine tuning.
Like a true hero. Who is it?
My body. Minus the chair.
It was one of those days where anger was optional, and so was death.
It was rare. I looked ahead and cried but then I smiled at no one.
Beauty has a price indifferent to supply and demand.
It has consequences. It has a jarred plot line. It follows a successive line:
from them to me, from me to you, from you to me and then from me an outburst.
On the first day of the year my eyes were busy gazing upon useful correlations,
realized my vocabulary had weakened indeed because I had wished everything
to be much simpler, blowing the candle lights, moving forward.
Last year exposed a thin line between where
when it was, it could,
but when it couldn’t, it just wouldn’t anymore.
Which meant I could loose you.
Which meant we could all loose each other.
Much of this I figured out when I asked you what you wanted when the lights are off.
I heard something magnificently coherent,
so coherent that it had collapsed upon itself like a black hole
for us, extending infinitely to the present,
but in its own reality a long dead star
still learning from a past life, reaching a firm belief
that it has done absolutely nothing wrong. And no one to blame for.
Without a doubt
the darkness was eventually wrapped up in shiny foil,
once loosely covering chocolate,
but now so tight, and so meaningful.
My head pretends to rest on my hand reaching
the palm against the forehead. Skin must touch
skin first so that everything can begin.
I am in a small world down here inside a big hoodie,
looking at my order history, thinking about
what I’ve filled the void with.
I see the crumbs in the bread. I see our lack of mastery in the word choice.
I feel guilty for postponing abundance theory.
Can I apply you knowledge? Would you like to
see me in a dress today so we disagree on one less thing?
It never occurred to me before
the option to stop holding the world.
I kept it all brief, very brief,
I drew a chronometer on paper,
waited until it started ticking.
My hand took the blame, for holding it tight, almost crushing,
for the shaky footage, for pushing you away arranging a fine tuning.
Like a true hero. Who is it?
My body. Minus the chair.
It was one of those days where anger was optional, and so was death.
It was rare. I looked ahead and cried but then I smiled at no one.
Beauty has a price indifferent to supply and demand.
It has consequences. It has a jarred plot line. It follows a successive line:
from them to me, from me to you, from you to me and then from me an outburst.
On the first day of the year my eyes were busy gazing upon useful correlations,
realized my vocabulary had weakened indeed because I had wished everything
to be much simpler, blowing the candle lights, moving forward.
Last year exposed a thin line between where
when it was, it could,
but when it couldn’t, it just wouldn’t anymore.
Which meant I could loose you.
Which meant we could all loose each other.
Much of this I figured out when I asked you what you wanted when the lights are off.
I heard something magnificently coherent,
so coherent that it had collapsed upon itself like a black hole
for us, extending infinitely to the present,
but in its own reality a long dead star
still learning from a past life, reaching a firm belief
that it has done absolutely nothing wrong. And no one to blame for.
Without a doubt
the darkness was eventually wrapped up in shiny foil,
once loosely covering chocolate,
but now so tight, and so meaningful.