I have hidden my voice in you
I have hidden the best and the
loneliest parts of me in you.
I want to hypothesize something
about having something to say.
I want all of our tiny breaths
You are all the parts in me that can’t
You have different names sometimes
when I look at you.
You are on the internet looking up pictures of
because online you exist.
I think you can learn a lot about a person when
you are sticking your fingers in their mouth.
For instance. I think either your heart is
somehow sewn to your lips
or you just really really do not want
I have become increasingly aware of the remoteness
of my body.
I want to tell you that there is absolutely nothing
at the end of the Milky Way.
I want to tell you that I am not going back home
for a funeral.
Instead I say that
later this year
scientists report Venus and Jupiter will end up
"I love you."
There is a skeleton inside me it is
stapled to my skin.
It is pulling my lips back with its teeth
with its teeth it is anchoring my smile
I think it wants to be buried inside
“I need you.”
I was not aware the only amount of
separation I could allow
was my own immediate space.
I was not aware I could not measure distance
in the amount of blood it takes
my heart to move.
I was not aware we were integrated
I’m stuck somewhere between wanting
to know how your brain works
and wanting to dissect my own to show you
this is not emotional insurance
this is all of
“I miss you.”
You were three minutes late logging on
it took one minute eight seconds
When you smile it is delayed by zero point
zero three seconds.
You always seem happy before me.
there is nothing more telling than the imprint
my head leaves on my pillow
it is always 100 times smaller than i imagine
my brain to be.
if there are no such things
as alternate realities
then i am probably screwed.
i can see The Milky Way spiraling over the roof
of my house like a smile washed with pale
and i wonder how far away i am from
i wonder how far away this is from
there’s nothing i’d like to be more than tiny
Collab with Hannah Amante.
thousands of feet below you
the mountains are a crumpled brown napkin
you’ve tried to smooth out
your hands don’t even shake
when you think about
how great the fall.
the ground would spread it’s arms
wide to open you.
gravity would close it’s lips
around your neck.
as a child
you used to stand out in front of your house
scream at the airplanes flying
and wonder if they could hear.
One of my collabs with the very cool Hannah Amante.
I’m in a bar at
The end of the universe
They have wifi here.
I tried updating
My location on Facebook
But it didn’t work.
I don’t think it liked
that I tried to put that I
was ‘in my own head’
When a body starts to die,
you might hear a sound like a sigh or a yawn.
Do not be alarmed.
This is just the body trying to suck in all the molecules of
air it can, before the entire body shuts down.
The body likes tight spaces to crawl under
and sneaks along the sidewalk
on its belly,
you might see it some morning you are up too early
thinking too many things
taking a walk to clear your head.
If you see an injured body,
do not touch the body.
The body is terrified of contact.