one singular idea that does not exist outside of itself
my skeleton is dancing on its own
the structure of my form

i didn’t think it would end up like this

in here
so sweet
i wait
in fear

in the distance there is a soft steady stream of emergency vehicles singing their songs
reminding us that we are standing on the brink of imminent danger
and behind us there are men in powdered wigs waiting to push us off into a certainty i would rather not say
and so we will fly, or we will fall, or in the best case scenario we will fight them to the death and we will live

of serenity or solitude
to be subjugated by the indefinite
peace has never felt so violent here in my room

i just wanted to pray for the rain
wishful thinking
for sunny days

once upon a time there was a town next to a river
and on the other side of the river stood four people
their arms were crossed and their chins were pointed up towards the skies and they said
“i have heard the words spoken by he himself”
and so the townspeople ran out of their homes, their doors flung wide open, letting the flies in to devour their fruits and their children
to hear the words spoken by he himself translated by the mouths of strangers
and in time the townspeople went back to their homes to find their homes had been replaced by factories
their food had perished and their children, abandoned in their youth, were now grown and haggard, manning the machines

please don’t take it all away

i have always been an angry person and i can finally understand the rest of the world
have we ever considered communicating with each other at an emotional level?
there are no language barriers to see when someone is in pain or in love or deeply disappointed
i believe we can come to some global conclusions regarding the fate of our species through our shared tears and laughter

a mother with no mother mothers a mother i call my own
a father with no father leaves my father for months as a child all alone
my mother and my father mother and father myself

when i was 22 i lost myself and when i was 23 it was the whole wide world
there is nothing quite as beautiful as something you cannot describe
in the event of an event in which the earth as we know it stops spinning i will attempt to illustrate said object
i will use only the deepest core of my being which no one else can directly witness and i cannot tolerate to express in its most outward direction
sheepishly, i will fail and in this transit from trying to an indisputable defeat, i will realize what must be done
i will sit front and center and fully accept that i did not accomplish what i had set out to do
no one will clap and no one will understand the story that i had fumbled with my futile organs and that which holds them together and forces them to dance
i will stand up and try again until the room is empty and everyone has gone home
the closest i will ever get to my initial purpose is perfectly describing a memory of a beauty i once observed with all of my senses
and that night, after a long walk home from an inconsequential congregation, someone else, in the quiet darkness, will experience something in which there are no accurate words to articulate at a later date
and yet they will feel galvanized into pursuing the impossible in a moment of temporal ambiguity in order to make sense of what has been lost and what we can find in the residue