you are as cracks ran through me

the lack of sleep, all these wounds that we keep, and I am trying hard to know you are not there, and how these tremors used to stir faith.

(the strength of sadness is how violently it moves us.)

but I rest, with this, constellation—of—past—sorrows.

I am trying still to be okay. I was less lonely, all alone across the oceans (cruel, untruth.) I hold nothing more (liar.) what cannot be fixed (a faulty circuit, fucking safety.) I never speak (sideways.) you never hear (child.)

if you are sad, and you stay in the darkness, then you can only be smothered.

START WHAT YOU KNOW—REARRANGE—RUIN—FOR YOURSELF—KEEP, YOU DEATH OF VISION.

(I only record everything.)

and my spine arches, and goes cold, under this milk and bile and film.

hold on, lover, and it all fades—milk.

watch your fingernails grow for nine years—bile.

pluck out these insect eyes—film.

THE TRUTH IS WE ARE SO FUCKING AFRAID.

HOW DO WE GET BACK TO BE OKAY?

I STILL TIE MY SHOELACES WITH A LITTLE SMILE.

I HEAR HOW BEAUTIFUL A CAT IS.

I WATCH YOU GO ON FOREVER.

I BRUISE.

THE MACHINE BRUISES ME.

(there are page numbers, all bloodied on my lips, and scars.)

it is rushing through millenia—a taste of jet engines—crushed stag—skeleton dust into concrete—swallowing.

this is how it feels. this is how it always feels.