breath breath breath
I say. just breath.
it simple. a muscle movement here, there, air intake, exhale. repeat.
breath.
after all these years you’d think I’d learn, you’d think I’d know, but I don’t.
and I’ll justify the reasoning behind not knowing. I’ll fight it to the bitter end.
a remarkable ability to refuse the signs. I am, at once, convinced.
curiosity killed the cat, yes. for sake of sakeness sake. I suppose the cat was doomed already.
as am I. I suppose.
but she smiles at me and the melted words remove themselves, surrounding the inability
to trust. to love. to hate. to regret and forget.
it’s all washed clean, hands and bridges. water underneath. I just don’t remember where I left myself these days
and everything feels slow motion
breath breath breath. intake smoke, stale cigarettes and cold sheets.
breath

written for a girl. one of my very few attempts at rhyming..



maybe we are. a collision.
my everything twisted around your everything.
and I'd steal this part, that we are. the chemistry between us. the chemistry of a crashing car.
where the instant between the meeting of our mouths, becomes dangerous. and soft. and desperate.
where we can’t look away, the wreckage is immediate.
the way you breath, cautiously. looking to me to empty the roll of endless babble that hits the back of my throat every second I’m in your presence. and more often than not, even when I’m not.
it’s held back on the bridge of my tongue. caught there behind my teeth. knocking on the roof of my mouth, asking for permission to be let out of - not refusing, just justifying - my closed fist of a mouth.
no words anyways, despite their desperation and forced movements to escape, could ever actually fully explain.
how when we dance, you and I. my contract signed on your thigh
how when you laugh, I sigh
how when I look away and smile.
no words anyways. despite themselves. despite ourselves. despite myself. no words anyways.
could catch this chase, or win this chase, or be this chase.
if you’re broken, then I’m broken too. pieces of me laid scattered everywhere. I’ve lost the ability to speak. my mouth, maybe missing, has gone somewhere looking for yours. to meet. to collide, to sigh.
and I'm left here without thought, nor reason, nor perfect intention. to submit for your approval my own immediate interpretation.
how the lines previously defined by me, are no longer there as far as I can see
just a ticking clock and sense of intimacy. caught and stolen of bliss - bliss. blissfully.
I'd catch you in my hands, and hold together every piece of you that I can.
until you're whole again, and I'm held again.
a moment. I've stolen from you, a few.
a few more I'd like to claim. a few more I'd like to take.
this instant need - we call satisfaction of my greed, is imposed upon every inch of available skin, every moment I'm stealing, every time you win.
where I'm caught you know?
caught.
in between the restless waking moments of my day, and every possible chance that I get to say,
you.
you breath and fit so easily into me, something I wasn't expecting to see. and I'm teetering on the edge of reason within me. within me. as to what that means.

my jaw is clenched. has been for days
what I’ll refer to as the close fist of my mouth. re used and used again and again
the tension stings behind my ears, under my gums.
removes me from all sense for seconds upon seconds.
I’m held back by force. by reckoned reasonable force. the words and feelings stay trapped and put pressure on my chest. I can’t breath. I can’t breath.
slow and steady the rhythm returns. it’s closing in on daylight and I don’t know if I feel anything.

I’m starting to think I’ll be back. The memory of you stains my skin. Until I’m clawing at it like it’s bugs beneath the surface. The memory of the way my heart could feel haunts me. My heart.


My stupid little heart
Is halfway to broke
She’s always been on the verge of breakdown. Flimsy band-aids holding her pieces together.
I guess bitter comes when those band-aids break. And the cracks are exposed. And I’ve got no control over when she beats. When she sleeps. When she hurts or when she loves.
She’s surrounded by other organs who get a break once and awhile. Things take over and they go on vacation.
My pancreas sipping maithais in between my lungs and my spine.
But my heart doesn’t take a break. No vacation for her. She’s in there, working her shifts every day, every night, all day long. All night long.
And sometimes I forget to thank her, for not letting me shut down. For holding onto those band-aids as tight as she can, until I can think of a bigger and better fix.
Trouble is heart spackle isn’t sold anywhere near here. And I can’t order it online. I have tried. I have.
I’ve tried to find remedy in easy things like crushes and a transfer of feeling onto impractical people. I’ve tried to push things on her, fixes I think will work. But end up breaking more bricks, than fixing.
Her muscle torn and strained. I think of resistance. And how it works to build muscle. Strain against it until it’s strong enough to blast through.
And I ask her. Just how much resistance she needs in order to be strong enough.
But she wont answer. And I’ve forgotten how to ask differently.
I guess I’m wrong. Cause she’s not stupid or little. But the size of mountains. And smart enough to stick it out inside my chest. Rather than exposed to the elements on my sleeve like I asked her to be.
She’s clever too. More clever than I give her credit for. Cause like McDonalds breakfast, she sneaks up on me when I least expect it and proves just how stupid my spontaneous decision making can be.
But I’d like to pull her out of my chest some day. Hold her in my hands and just stare at her while she gasps for something she can’t have. But needs in order to survive.
And I justify it to myself that it’s ok, because that’s what she does to me.
But really, we’ll each go to bed tonight thinking about the other. Wondering who gets to make the first move.
But me and love aren’t on speaking terms.
At least not today.
So I can’t believe it’ll be me.