unspeaking
i catch myself cataloging the ways we embrace i subtly turn away to hide the fact that i find you in these moments but you discern my smaller mind is thinking in the moments i wish i was blank, destitute because i am scared of my breed and my blood and my body and i am eschewing all the ways i can discern myself from myself from myself when i catch a glimpse of the ways you have constructed me from the mâché i left scattered on your bed i know your room is messy and i will add to the mess if you allow i would like to leave my shirts here and a book for my restless moments but they will be abandoned when you need when you find the self that i keep from myself i would just like the mâché if you wouldn’t mind
there is a portending greatness that calls i envision the rotary phone of my childhood unhooked to make way for the world wide web i could never dial the damn thing
i climb the tree etched in your ankle embedded in the hardwood sound sits at my pinna i am not the growth of the room shaking, restless settled as smoke above your head parsing space grasping at pointilism distanced from window to shade
“man” the subject noun hollows a winter coat washed / shrunk put on in trappings please don’t look
i am unsure of my footing as i traverse the great divides of the sidewalk. they are more my home than any other piece of land, but there is an unknown longing. a despondence that creates a divide, my mind’s canvas engrossed by the trees’ roots disrupting the concrete. they create more cracks than i am prepared for. i slow my gait and count my steps, relinquishing the numbers as they come to me. each crack my foot meets feels foreign. it is not unpleasant, for i am blazing this trail for myself. the city’s sidewalk cracks, the sticker bushes of my youth. stickers, permuted, still on my clothes, cast aside onto the damp rocks, moments before i place myself on their larger counterpart. i trepidatiously seat myself on the rock, its jagged edge creating a crack within me. unknown to myself, and to others, baring all to myself and to nature, i am one in the same as i, conscious of my feet in my shoes, traverse the great divides of the sidewalk.
you and i for me and so i seldom see the eyes and ties of all that i can see and seldom be
your phone chimes again the blanket passes over your face knees extend outward asserting unknowing dominance of your space i assess the room try to count the cavalry of pills on your dresser vitamins and supplements arranged by letter s, m, t, etc. as you grow outwardly, i assess my space you have elected to grow by slimming i have elected to slim to disappearance we have elected to co-habitate a space impartially we both ponder shrinking side-by-side, unspeaking, back lit by the others’ glowing phone in this moment i feel closest to you i feel smallest, myself for myself
silent at heidelberg i discern space from space i add the numbers in your stead
“looking at you is making me feel like i’m dying” i am drawn to a photo you took of me in a parking lot, likely a craft store’s the film did not complete the image torn from its packing, a field of white, two sunspots emblazoned in the corners visible only to myself i like to picture you reflecting back in the photographed drivers’ side window your eyes drawn to mine squinting, solar flares marking your iris until the click draws them to the film in the smallness, you are mine and i am yours it is a vast nation, abridged by trinkets and a love embossed in the images that don’t turn out
real love sometimes i wish we never met dying now feels so lonesome
i am in a giving mood the prince has ordered my teeth pulled you displace the root from the filling i have chipped them away to make room for your enter i was not myself for myself if not you for you i will fall for it then i will fall for you my belly in bows yours in knots call me if you’re returning i’ll unlock the locks