dont read too much into this, or at all actually


honesty means that there is a level of exhaustive preparation every morning that goes into making a me that looks like me
or at least the me I used to be, before I was the me that I came to be 
(the me I don’t let you see)

honesty means my eyes are less familiar with the backs of their lids then they are with the whites of the ceiling that looms down over the bed that I sleep in
this body that aches all day from chronic-whateverness demands a rest that lives only in the dreams that I stopped having during adolescence

honesty means that I am addicted to niceness because it fills my veins with the drug of you thinking I’m something better then the skin I’m in
it means when I finally break, you wont remember the long stares or cold glares or antisocial neurotic sociopathic anxious behavior because I helped you move in
see, I’m a good kid

honesty means I spend an alarming amount of energy trying to figure you out, and whether or not I can trust you or if I think you might kill me
I’ve spent too many nights by the window talking to myself because that guy at the starbucks left at the same time as me

honesty means that food tastes like ashes in my mouth, and since I’m already consistently dehydrated vomit is actually a welcome relief to the dryness
the thought of my stomach ruining garbage inside of me has been enough to make me dry heave in the middle of traffic

honesty means I probably like what the smoke will do to me a little more than I do the nicotine
although working in an office with two flights of stairs makes it hard to make it outside to kill myself slowly (mostly)

honesty means I snap like a jazz musician with no music when I am uncomfortable because it brings your attention to my hands and away from my eyes
or because it makes me invisible, still testing that theory.

honesty means the curtain closed because of who I thought I was, not because of what I thought I had done
A man covered in flames can set even the purist angel on fire if he doesn’t drown himself at once

right?

honesty means I hate being honest, I’d rather lie to both you and myself and keep staring at my hand until I’ve convinced myself it has stopped shaking.

how I wish it would stop shaking

Buzzing.


Preface: Yesterday I yelled at God because it was windy.
GOD. You are a holy, benevolent being of righteousness
I. Am a scoundrel with the potential to cease to exist with one fly-swatter hit
But still, even with the knowledge that you are the creator of all things seen and unseen, the Gospel, and the details in between, I spend most of my days screaming.
Which I’m sure while you’re on your throne in a heavenly realm surrounded by Angels who YOU made to tell you of your infinite glory... 
It probably just sounds like buzzing.
You built the house, and the kitchen I am in. 
You baked the food, that smell that brought me in.
I am the fly who’s defiling your house 
seeking the MADE more then the MAKER because tangible has more clout.
That bread your slicing becomes so enticing that my vision blurs and my focus turns 
to that lovely loaf with, what smells like, bananas baked into it? 
C’mon God, you know that’s my favorite.
With that smell in the air, I fly-   blind, and land on whats not mine.
I lose sight of who baked it. Who put it in the stove and made it.
The Holy Chef who’s hands created it.
I lose sight, until that bread crumbles when the Creators blade hits 
An earthquake the size of a loaf of bread feels cataclysmic
And it sends me into the air, buzzing with resistance
But you, oh Master and Provider, gently swat me away- causing me to fly higher.
And from this new height, closer to your eyes
I can look down and see that the bread wasn’t mine.
I was fooled by my senses, controlled by what my flesh said.
I smelt the desire of what could be mine and it caused me to fly lower to just get a slice.
I flew so close to your blade that I felt the ground shake- 
but I wasn’t supposed to be there eating that bread anyways.
It was your hand that came so close and stirred the wind around me
Causing me to fly closer to you, higher, where I could see
Now, l realize that you’re slicing the ground where I was just standing.
Oh my God. You saved me.
Now maybe I’ll stop buzzing.

R&R


There was
There was
There was
A Moment Split. A Moment Fractured.
The Halves Of That Moment Run In Separate Directions
One Half Runs Right, Solidified In Its Correctness
One Half Runs Left, Wrong, In Its Brokenness.
The variant degrees of separation are extreme
The body, made of flesh, leans.
Leans. 
(to be read: screams)
Wrong becomes left 
becomes straight 
becomes forward
becomes behind 
becomes past
becomes us
We have become that moment we have left.
Right?
there is
there is
there is
an annoying sensation of numbness in my right leg
these swimming lessons are becoming monotonous
and i have the distinct feeling that i’m not floating
i’m drowning
it’s becoming easier and easier to fall asleep in this pool
in this house shaped, me shaped, life shaped pool
there Will be
there Will be
there Will be
a.forced.smile
an.awkward.glance
a.knowing.deflection
will.power
try.to.remember
try.to.remember
try.to.remember
a.decisive.joy
an.indefinite.silence
an.insoluble.ache
a.decision
a.decision
a.decision
Happiness, shaped like something unfamiliar.
Safety, in a strangers embrace.
Touch, from skin of a different temperature.
And the ability to be okay with not knowing
(while, in fact, knowing what there is to not know)
  There was, there is, there Will be:
Rivers. And Roads.
Oh, and swimming. A lot of swimming.