as soon as I got home I knew.

It's going to be awhile before I sleep
and I want to be out of these clothes.
my feet stick to the floors as i pass
from room to room, living to hall,
hall to bath, bath to kitchen.
We are night people, and I play
with the words on the fridge
and keep things to myself. I let the
boards creaking under my toes do the
talking for me, but they rarely
make any sort of sense. But then again,

      neither do I.

on the stoop
with our knees up
we have long lightning
bug conversations,
the words lighting
up in random intervals
amongst the trees in
the dark, and our
hands wander our
sides restlessly setting
off the motion sensors
behind us, illuminating
something that has
yet to make sense to
either one of us;
and our thoughts meet
each other halfway.

I've left a piece
of myself at
the feet of every
single set of eyes
that I've ever loved.
The biggest one
at yours, and I
miss it the most;

I'm not sure there

is enough left

for anyone else to love.

out of my element.

I turned around

in the doorway; blindly

finding myself

in a place that I did

not find familiar.

the sunlight shouldn't

be in this place

and I feel more than taken

from what I remembered

as a comfort zone

hands wandering

my sides, feeling severed.

In the field outside

I could hear the bees

making conversation

amongst themselves

ignoring the world around

them, and wondered

if the bones scattered

throughout the wheat

had names, and if the faces

of the bees held the answers

to the questions they asked.

Somedays I feel

like I have fallen

six stories and a hair

waking up cold

in another world,

keeping with the

tradition and a smile

that I like to spread

around, brown eyes

in a blue world,

hands awash with the

consequences, just remember

that I love you, and

that I am the harsh equivalent

of all my best intentions

gone horrifically awry.

this year has been my hardest

and im afraid im not gonna be

stronger on the other side of this

im praying for spring and the

heart to not feel like i deserve

to have what I want most just

because of the goodness and love

that i have brought into peoples lives.

this is no way to end a decade.

I let lou reed's voice just

settle in, cold and silty like

a cloud and my stare goes soft.

my fingers still work the

keyboard even with no focus

and I am typing from a

daydream somewhere

inside the tornado. I do not

know the way back, and sand

is all I can see for miles and miles

moving like the ocean at a

heartbeat like pace in full moon.