midnights rolls in
everythings forgotten
taking pages from
every book that has
ever gotten, through
to me, loosely, losing
sight, some day I just think
I might come to grips
with losing light
eyes that wander over slight
missteps, staying stressed,
leave it all to be addressed
by the hands that shape the words
taking letters taking turns
take too long to fall asleep
hear the clock tick
hear the thoughts click
with the clouds thick
overhead, always storming
in my head always storming
in my head.

to be continued... at some point.

Everything in slo-mo
feeling like the gold coast
slow poke, close my eyes
never quite there though
finishing my last meal
choking on the overkill
tuggin on my sleeves cause
i never really know how to feel
this is just me, never quite comfortable
from under the
gun with a
fear of what the thunder does
clap for the honesty
cause speaking honestly
i never wanted these
words to be a part of me
i just open my hands
and they depart from me.

Here it goes.

I sing to myself in the soft
electronic light, breathing
in all of the wrong places
losing time, over thinking
sinking in where it always
feels just about right. 

and then

         I freeze up.
         staring at all of our words
         that we've moved and
         rearranged in sleepy stanzas
         uneven and rough around
         all seen edges. in the hour when
         the dead come to life.

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.