must I be thunder?
I do not wish to shake the world until she falls blind in awe,
I do not wish to imprint myself onto a shaking earth.
I do not wish to break a silence and live a strong breath-
I wish to be a part of the silence.
I wish to be a curved tree in a sweet and long summer,
where the wind tumbles through me clumsy
and I blossom delicate flowers for lovers
and loners to admire.
I am not much, I am not much in the eyes of a shaken earth-
but I am not nothing either.
I am the relaxed shadow for a curious wanderer,
he will remember the silence I have given him.
I am not eternal
but for now,
I am.
(and I am in comfort.)
My feet,
Aching in sand encrusted misery,
Drag across the concrete cage of the steel jungle
The putrid smell of piss and exhaust fill my nose.
A constant reminder of our past, present, and future.
It is never ending.
It is progressive.
It is futile.
Underneath the weight of iron ore, silicon and industry the soul crumbles
Take a breath and the soul escapes
The slender, human back threatens to break under the pressure
Skin rips open against the unforgiving concrete.
Blood akin to red velvet pools across my palms.
A constant reminder that I am not one with the steel jungle.
I will never be one of them.
I look around the sea of shifting fac
.
i.
we traded our ribcages months ago.
i wanted him to feel how hard it is to breathe when
you're locked in something so tight,
and he wanted me to feel how empty a chest becomes
after you take a sledgehammer to it.
.
ii.
i remember the feeling of broken ribs,
ends stabbing my lungs with every rickety breath i
took.
my heart was exposed, chilly, cold in its beating.
“ see? ” he said.
“ you broke me, love,
you broke me and now i've got a gasp-stutter in my
.
i.
he
had
a
star
for
every
want
and
desire
hung
on
his
ceiling,
their
glow
soft
and
sweet
in
the
dark.
ii.
once,
i
asked
him
which
one
was
me,
and he only smiled.
“ why do i need a star for something i already have? “
Today, impermanence is 5 weeks of rain
and pine limbs spindling clear above the house
and things I’ve left underground:
a cavity in the storm
misplaced regality
a stark white coat.
How do we perish yet
still lounge eminently
sharpening the catalpa
pacing the gutters
impaling midnight
in our wanton monotone?
My jealous imperia do not ruin.
Innocence is never lost.
It grows back like phantom vertebrae
and rebuilds the animal.