a wishful woeful winter day

honeyed butter and flour dipped 

in creamed coffee 

a walk in the snow at midday 

someone to love and hold 

fired reading and an even heartbeat 

a floral scone with tea 

a stretch in the evening 

pureed squash with fried bread 

a bath to share 

some essays and sweet kisses 

that will never be mine 

i'll never be still 

and it's my fault 

but i have to be one step 

ahead of them 

i have to be consumed by what they are 

and what they may not be

i only know devastating 

so i'll leave you with this 

it's okay to let them catch you 

and to be scared 

it's okay to never have loved 

it's not okay to die never having tried 

broken back

will we ever be tented 

at the base of a river 

jutting into white-capped mountains?

will the air ever be completely still?

where sound can't move. 

we will touch 

not speak. 

we will hold

not listen. 

only then, the sun can hit 

my face without me shrinking 

spiders can crawl over 

my toes without me screaming 

and we can both touch my pit 

without cowering behind 

the guiding forces of hands

who surely know better 

i'm sorry i've stopped

i've stopped dreaming 

about a version of you 

that admires me when i sleep

and waits for me to wake up 

i've stopped believing you

exist 

that i'll ever be able to share 

my ugly 

without you walking away 

i've stopped thinking that 

i'll never not be a cowboy 

and that you'll never not 

see through that 

i've stopped trying to love myself 

so that you can love me 

shrinking myself 

to be the hole that you crave

my poems are richer when

you're not here 

i'm happy just watching you part 1

if i was a writer 

i'd write only about you—

your dark eyes 

and unwillingness to be mine 

would fill my pages

and spaces 

i'd have a place 

to wrap myself in your 

whispered delusions 

full glances

and unanswered messages 

but for now—i thank 'god'

that i have a body 

so i can be your observer 

nefario, nefaria, nefarias

can i whisper my future lies 

and let the wind take them?

can i trust that those words 

lose their meaning 

and each other?

maybe we shouldn't feed delusion

we're adults, right?

those whispers can't un-be 

they will always be tied together 

and saturate the air of every room i enter 

so now we must weep 

we lost 

i'll never not have a trick

up my sleeve 

maybe we can be vampires together?

it will be opulently hedonistic 

we can trace our tongues 

along each others' teeth 

and taste blood on the wrists 

of those who good courses through 

how's that sound?

you have my word

how many people are you

were you 

do you plan to be 

a thousand 

or seven

will you show them?

let me in perhaps?

i won't tell

i promise

you have my word 

i'll love you until my 

bones disintegrate 

and reduce to soil fertilizer 

after that 

i can't promise you a set of arms 

or a body that will hold yours

for now and until then 

will you let me smell your head 

and kiss your freckles 

will you indulge me that this 

was yellowed destiny 

i know you think it's pretty 

and all too much 

i'm sorry if i'm a memory now 

i was here 

and i tried 

and i'll always live in these etchings 

so please visit sometimes 

avowals

when will my wounds be claimed?

i'm 8,954 to the day 

it's sad to think 

my scars will be left to a charity 

when i stop breathing 

until then, do i wait?

for justice, for courage?

how shall i exist in this purgatory 

shall i take up new hobbies 

to pass the time 

or would it be better 

to fester 

for now, i'll let my neurons 

pass electricity to each other 

not creating or destroying 

i'll let the pressure build 

i'll sit in the pain 

that i know was meant for me 

until i forget myself

then i'll lie down 

and weep 

at the unclaimed 

and unnamed 

of what could've been

and what was 

a poem to 1/17

i was thirsty most of today 

my lips chapped 

and my hands callused 

i no longer recognize myself 

after years of gazing at my reflection 

everyday i wake up 

and i cling to the 

outside of my beating heart 

i weep 

because i'll never fill my lungs

i didn't see the raccoon 

at the bend today 

the one that's been dead 

since August.

i've been underwater for so long that 

i've forgotten that lungs are meant to 

have air in them 

i'm thirsty

but if i inhale, i'll die 

i cannot hold my breath 

and be thirsty forever 

so i must choose 

maybe tomorrow i'll have a solution

maybe tomorrow i'll understand 

why it's all been too much 

and never enough 

why i am always hurting 

and why i can't shake you 

i want to believe that 

tomorrow's sun will burn brighter 

that there's still a chance 

but i only know lies 

including this one—

each day, i am new 

the day before the shortest of 2020

i tried to plant my feet on the ground today.

they are now an inch closer—

still not touching

i dream about the day where they 

touch down and the Earth reverberates.

that day i won't care if Dana 

says I was a shut-in at college.

or if i ate too much of my 

father's birthday cake.

i won't try to rush the hard stuff.

but for now, i'll pick at my splinters

and burn my tongue with hot soup 

rushing for it all to be over 

waiting for my hands to wrinkle

waiting for my brain to forget my name

and unlearn my pains.

hurrying to unravel and explode into 

stardust so that my atoms

can return to the inorganic material

they were destined to be. 

okay

Fine.

Is it okay that I'm like this?

That my throat always burns 

Is it okay that I talk like this?

Look like this?

I know space where my body 

exists could be better used 

by air or another creature 

But is it okay that I'm here?

I promise that no one will remember 

I won't let anyone see me 

12/14/20

All of the sudden 

After months of darkness

I saw a cruel light flicker 

It dimmed and blinked back on 

I started to cry 

Thinking about when it 

Would go black again 

And I would be swallowed 

oblivion

Bees don't know they are here 

they don't stare at their reflections 

panic-stricken that they are breathing

or

wondering what will happen if they forget 

i wish i didn't know that the future 

becomes the present

or that my demons would plot 

my life's trajectory 

bee's don't have to run 

from the past 

or scream out  

wondering why something 

that doesn't exist 

can't disappear 

they can be or not be 

i wish they were i and i were them 

to jordan

every morning—the sun nudges me 

and i rub my eyes to greet her 

i stand up and see you 

rolling around on the grass

belonging to people who have become persons 

with other people meaning and possessions

i still look out my childhood bedroom 

at 24

and hope that the new jersey horizon 

swallows me 

because i'll only ever cling to the 

fantasyland and dreamscape 

that is the garden state 

shortfalls

every day, my body contends

for place and space.

hollowed eye sockets 

and empty ear canals 

would you rather be 

blind 

or 

deaf

cut off from 

objects 

or the 

world 

hk said she'd rather be blind 

because you can still be apart of things

at what point does it all become too much

when you can't exist in relation to others?

for six years, i've lived 

crouched naked 

and alone 

on an ice float 

cast out to never re-emerge

and every day 

while i try to make sense 

of why this happened

to only come up short 

i'm faced with puzzled looks 

and questioning glances

i give you your laugh

and your value 

i haven't made it up 

i promise 

and i've tried not to weaponize it

it hurts me 

just as much as it hurts you 

in fact more 

so i'm sorry 

i'll weep for the person 

we both thought i'd be 

i'll pretend

and i'll try harder 

so you don't have to worry 

i'll never be free 

and i won't try to convince you every day 

but please

i beg 

can you indulge me once?

i promise i won't exaggerate

or force you to agree 

you can close your ears 

and maybe the space between us 

will melt 

we can't exist in relation 

so maybe we can find a body 

and call it home?