stabbing

Last night, you went out for a drink. Just you and a girlfriend.

You can't remember how long it's been since you were out without a man by your side.

You have a drink or two to relax, to talk about your life, your struggles; simply to connect with another human being on a more-than-superficial level.

The body behind the bar is a man of substantial size; older, with a beard. His presence emanates an energy of intrusion.

He's nice enough. He gives you water without request. "Do you want another round?" he asks. No, we're good for now.

You and your friend have gorgeous conversations. You laugh, but maybe cry a little, too.

Then the bartender feeds you a shot. And then another. Maybe it's a slow night. Maybe he's bored. Maybemaybemaybe.

And when your friend leaves for the bathroom, suddenly the man is there in front of you. He feeds you lines you've heard before in different combinations with different inflections.

He tells you he thinks you're an old soul. "Just like me," he says.

Stop me when this sounds familiar.

He says, "Wanna hang out sometime?" and you're a little drunk so your reaction time is blunted and you can't figure out what to say.

He walks away.

It's impossible to exert your existence to the world without a man deeming you an object, and more specifically, his.

He deifies you-- a statue made of gold, erected on a pedestal until your form no longer holds meaning.

You are nothing but an intangible concept to be desired, won over. Claimed, defeated, stolen.

You are consumable.

may 23

in bed, while you held me,
you stumbled over your words trying to describe
how you felt about us.

you've said you're not good with words,
but i understood you perfectly.

the way it feels to love you

is like the high school relationship
where you fought because you weren't right for each other,
yet were so desperately in love,
you thought you'd die if you couldn't touch them,

except we don't fight.

it feels like the time when that person hurt you
over and over again,
but you kept going back, because the love was obsessive
and you just wanted them to like you.

except we've never hurt each other.

and it's similar to that crush you couldn't let go of,
who lead you on and used you.
and the whole time you knew, but didn't care,
because it felt so good to be with them.

except i think we like each other just the same.

as we laid there with those feelings, void of all the negatives,
all the blood rushed to my heart so fast it burst through the muscle.
it seeped out my ears,
my nose, my eyes, my throat.
it doused you, marking your skin with part of me
and i decided i've never seen someone look so good in red.

5 digits

just like subduction plate tectonics,
the way the earth's crust meets to form mountains,
the skin next to each of your eyes
fold to form epithelial orogens
every time you laugh.

i fell in love with you embarrassingly quick
and just the other day inside your hammock
I could've sworn your body became an extension of my own.

i felt my nerves growing into yours
the way a plant's root chases the nutrients in soil.

i can count on one hand all my trials and errors,
and i know in my heart you wont make it to the next hand.

back to basics

the charcoal-cappuccino-foam sky consumes the high rises from above.

you skin is silver gilt and just as precious.
your kindness is a boa constrictor
and my heart is its prey.

the crossing light protects the corner like a guard
and the orange stop hand casts a hue over your face,
emphasizing texturized imperfections
in a way that just makes me love you more.

i want to reach my hand out,
your face like a topographic map
i need to feel the mountains and valleys of,
and taste the river that forms the line of your mouth.

i feel like a teenager holding another person for the first time,
and similarly,
i think i will drown if i let go.

all my haikus

first time getting drunk,
also lost my virginity.
terrible idea.

action potential:
oh, how much i despise thee.
please just go away.

it's snowing again;
tiny snowflakes pierce my eyeballs.
ow, it kind of hurts.

what is going on,
can't stop thinking in haikus.
Someone please help me.

you are my beacon

the absence of your bodily mass
leaves an empty space in the atmosphere
where the air crashes inward to occupy,
like the way thunder is made.

i can't help but see you
as a beautiful, shining light
that i stare at, unmoving,
in awe,
that's meant to guide me
as a lighthouse guides sailors through the night.

this is nostagia

temporally traveling in music albums.

Everything is Alive, Pomegranates.

this means it's 2008
and I'm sitting in the passenger seat of a
gold Chevy Malibu.

listening to this specific set
of arranged noises
i can be 16 again.

conversations with you

your mouth hovers open
in preparation for speech;
thoughts not yet organized.
with teeth barely poking out from above
as if clamoring for their chance in the spotlight of conversation.

if you close your mouth,
your lips still tremble as you decide
what to say:
two pairs of flesh appearing to be in a dance.

i watch your mouth so closely
because all i want is to touch my lips to yours
and taste your special amylase recipe
i've come to crave.

when the words finally do come,
in passion, you lean close
and place special pauses in all your good stories
like you're carefully crafting each syllable
for me.

Newnewnew

I watch your quivering lips await mine
As you watch my lips seek yours;
Eye contact not required,
We stare into each other's lips instead,
Reading our emotions that way.
When our eyes do meet,
A hundred more feelings pulse through my retinas from your lenses.
In order to live in the moment
We close our eyes and sway in the darkness
Gripping each other to not fall over,
Trying to ignore the cold
But shivering still as one body
Until we can no longer take it.
So we part slowly, hands the last body parts to separate, palm slipping over palm, fingers rippling over one another 'til they snap in disconnect reflecting our regret of division.
We take our last looks, hoping they'll be enough to last until next time.

failure

failing love feels like
a knife plunged in your heart
and the hilt ticks back and forth like a metronome
with each struggling beat

olfaction

Even after all this time

your scent's
ascent
through my nose
turns gaseous particles
into millions of pieces of glass
that tumble down my throat

cutting up my insides.