you can find me in complete silence
in the corner.
medicinal fingers curved into myself,
into claws so no one gets the love.
I’m triggered by the music and pacing
in 9.9 cubic square feet
of psychosis.
I’m feeling my nails dig into
my palm.
you say hello.

you can find me frozen
one week later,
woven in an opalite tapestry
spread across your floor.
I understand confession.
I’m Catholic.
I ask for judgment,
not counsel.
some retribution.
let’s make this clear.
let’s make this public.
I’m stuck in a projection
so you barely have a face
that isn’t my reflection.
at least I give you transparency,
moping opacity.
my veins are bursting with crisis,
with clarity.
you walk across my pubic bone

you recognize me months later by the wallow,
by the
chewed straw in my hand,
the callus in my palm,
the bad polish job.
I tell you what love feels like
based on the time I first noticed
an open space between two
it was five seconds long
since then and now,
I’ve grown so much
I can fill your whole pocket.
what a fertile experience you are having    
I see the grin of a horizon
upon us.
I’m reassuring,
I kept God,
as you rise above the clouds

this time, I made you
the sun.

“the light” or “the men who look like mirrors”

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