capsize

I can’t muster up,

roll up,

a compendium of courage

just enough

to balance onto this string,

so i’m always on

tiptoes,

either grappling for gravity

or

floating (so high I can’t feel my fingers)

 

teach me these few

things, how not to:

clip fingernails to

split knives, then try to trace my face

or smash teacups

because the house has

ceased to whisper (i can’t stand silence)

or scorch the tips of pencils

when words stay hanging below my throat,

limply,

refusing to move any

farther onto paper

 

sometimes,

if my mind eases on the accelerator,

i’ll make sure to

stand under a storm

and hope for lightning

i’ll have my hands full of

plasma coalesced into electricity

(so blue it could burn your eyes)

at least there’s this

effervescence,

i may say,

that I can dissect,

squint into,

pick and fiddle with

like an old toy

made out of unknown

mechanisms

 

my life is a time bomb

and i’m running away from

the silence between each tick

tick

tick.

from feeling like

an empty hotel room with

undone beds.

don’t leave me vacant,

 

 

I’d rather capsize a boat

than have it float

something dirty

I’m tired

underwired

the way words conspired

between bicycle wheels

-head over heels-

metaphors

running on an

exhaust fan

trying to cram

in

something magical

mystical

over-used

logistical

sayings

about how the moon reflects

in your eyes

once or twice

or

how your freckles

look like gemstones

stop romanticising

shiny shimmering

things

swings of love

not everything takes flight like a

dove

I’ve heard too much

about how you want to

learn, earn

constellations

or how one day

you’ll down 3 bottles

of beer and whisper

to your sister about how the sun

looks like her blister

 

you got yourself stuck

in a tongue twister

you’ve run out of words

like crystal clear,

icy cold, sharp as a spear

 

i want the filthy

part of your syllables,

ones you take back

cut off some slack

throw me back with

words that

catalyse

paralyse

your nerves

with swerves and

turns of words

let the tired sun,

moon, stars

rest for once

put them behind

bars

give me something

dirty

something jerky

something that does not

click

that shows no mercy

 

tell me about how

you dissect that

small body of yours

bust through those doors