i wish you could see what i see,
all the lights in this room you call dark,
the spots of sunlight, full of life
they glow with sheer brilliance, dancing
upon the walls you claim are nothing
but shadow. lights moving like angels,
like halos, surrounded by a warm fog —
the lights are alive and teeming with
bewilderment at the sight of your sad face.
do you really only see darkness?
when you look directly at the sun,
how can you close your eyes
and still see black through your thinly
veiled eyelids? still see nothing—
do you really not see how beautiful this is?
are you looking? are you really looking
for the good in it all, or is the evil all too much?
in that room you claim is made of shadow,
do you not once question what casts it?
is it you?
—
there's a bomb in my car! and no matter
how fast i drive, speed will never make do.
the timer counts down, and my head scatters,
i drive far so i have nothing to lose.
nothing but myself, my 1970
ford bronco, sweat pooling on the wheel's grip —
stick shift three speed — the bomb sits heavily
in the backseat, and the clock slowly ticks.
i push the pedal till it slams through the floor.
the sun glares windows as i drive circles,
your face in the rearview turns love to war,
gasoline withdrawal, my face still purple.
my fault for trusting a bomb with short fuse.
can't outdrive the one you carry with — boom.
—
the clock ticks in half-time with my heart's beat.
all the breath in the room fogs the windows,
covered with papers so no one can see
into the room. can you try and stay low?
i thought i heard something down the hallway—
something quiet, trying to sneak around.
droplets of sweat running down my still face,
i hold my breath in them, as if i could drown
in my own fear. the sound of shoes against
the cold floor came closer to where i was
hugging myself, trying to hold my breath—
sounds like a bullet in a loaded gun.
shots ringing like the bell, i do what i can.
whispering undeserved goodbyes— he's megaman.
—
didn't you just wanna get a move on?
we could escape these chain-linked fences,
bolt cutter hands but you keep them closed off,
did you find another way? defensive
all the time, keep your guard up and cover
your bright eyes from the dark, so what can i do?
living in your own world, made by lovers—
made by liars like me and you talking,
fake blood on your shirt where you stabbed me,
in your skin, can you feel how it's gnawing
away? you still want to see me bleed,
cut my hands and talk about getting out,
i really want you, could you just shut your mouth—
did you find it?
—
i'm just
filling my life up with hoes
just something to fill up the hole
that you left me
in my heart
and even when having sex we,
or rather i
felt some kinda connection
how many more times do i (fuck)
before i learn my lesson
used to be a man of love
a real yearner
trying not to focus on allat now
a real earner
a hustler
fightin for some money
a tustler
fighting my demons and some depression
with that left right, one two
first impression
making my selection when i pass through
none of em ever equal to you
cuz that one plus one used to equal two
but now it's subtract one
gotta face the truth
without you i'm not a single number i'm
a real zero, maybe less goin under
least that's how i feel
can't tell what's real no more
i'm just bangin it out
maybe literal
seeing in and out
moving my peripheral
heart blazin, like something more than lifesaving
drop me in the water and jus see how long my lungs take it
don't call the doctor i'm losing patience
just look at these people's faces
constantly pacing, my heart is racing and i
cannot
love anything but myself this time
i cannot
—
if all the pigeons and the trees,
birds and the bees, and everything
in between
all don't know my name
can i be someone?
or am i outta luck?
if the wind has called through mountains,
hills and valleys, big cities,
abandoned alleys
but still hasn't called to me
am i allowed to be?
can i be free?
if there are those who have a lover,
those who care for one another,
who'd do anything for each other
but i'm all alone
am i still
allowed to call this place home?
am i allowed to be?
am i?
—
and as i stood there on that train home i realized, all of these people have gone through lifetimes of their own.
every single one of these people i have never met and may never speak to or even see again, have all gone through love, trauma, joy, grief, and so much more on their own. some have been hurt, some have done the hurting, some are yet to experience such suffering, and yet they've all come to cross paths with me today on this train to exist in the universe i perceive, until i step off this train.
in that very same moment, all of these people will cease to exist, possibly forevermore. to be "lucky" enough to continue existing in my universe is to condemn oneself to knowing me.
this would come as a small spark of recognition in my neural network if we were ever to cross paths again. you would wave to me, i would wave to you, you would smile, and i would be gone again, stepping off the train to find my own reflection in the reminder of mortality.
—
you know that feeling?
when your heart runs
a million miles a minute,
your mind races
faster and you didn't
play that record busy
tryna get a guinness?
i'm still trippin
over my feet and laces
in outer space wit
a couple aliens
under the dim light
of that tractor beam
why does light from the sun
when refracted seem
distractingly
beautiful off the water of the crescent moon
something bout the
way they move in saturday cartoons
got me hooked
didn't wanna read a book i just wanted to take a deeper look at you
we can get away
vacation
turn up the saturation
the colors always faded
in those photographs you're taking
—
the familiar feeling of my hand
on the nape of your neck, pressing softly
into your skin, as you sing sweetly a