speaking in 2/4 time
i tell of these,
the dizzying wounds
on my imagined self,
mouth tasting of
thinned out blood.

i sleep in 3/4 time,
yet restlessly wait on
my bed, tracing shadows
on the ceiling with
my imagined hands.

i try it all in 4/4 time,
my imagined limbs heavy
with fallen spring snow.

i avoid your eyes in 6/8 time,
returning to the place that i
first dreamed up my
imagined being with
a young mind and a
september heart.

sometimes i think i’d like to
turn myself into something
different.
go out, buy a pack of
cigarettes,
become a hostile environment;
turn myself into a person
my mother would hate.

i call this

psychiatric exhibitionism;

watch me bend over

backwards to

press a rope against

my throat.

come see me

swallow a

bottle of pills and

walk along a trapeze of

“is she still breathing?

i thought i saw her

move.”

observe as i

count the ways

one person can

die.

you’re the blood stain i can’t
wash out of my shirt

cause of death:
inattentiveness

water stains on the
ceiling, on my skin

exploding head syndrome, i can
see lights above the surface

the kind of activity that
gives me chills

i can see your teeth pressing
bite marks into my wrist

i’ve lost the battle
and the war too

so many different kinds of
ash between my fingers

to cause death to
save lives

i don’t know what i
am anymore

i miss the normalcy of feeling
the edge of things;
the edge of your heart,
your eye,
the edge of your skin

i can’t count all the
broken things
or the missing people, the
chances i won’t take

i miss you when you’re
leaving, when you’re so close to
gone,
i miss you when you’re near
to me

you’re a ghost of a thing
i don’t know anymore