I'm either

Grounded
Or burried
Or floating

And the world is either

Unmoving
Or too fast
Or too slow

It either
Ignores
Suffocates
Or points its finger

And I feel either

Nothing
Or too much
Or numb

Can't get this page to fill
This pen is bleeding white noise

Creators are made off their failures
And achy finger joints

I'm digging untill my back breaks
Silence I won't accept

I promise
Next time I'll feel the words
I'll write
If they return

Before her, I was
Tipped over in the doorway,
South-facing as a loose tooth
Plucked from sore gums.

There is a affinity shared with her
In this gloomy dark hair, like graphite
Fingerprints wiped on my featureless cranium; and how

Before me, she was
Broken as the noon's fever. Her boyish
Hips fanning out, abdicating space
For my tiny anemone palms to measure their wingspan.

There is a flood of adrenaline
Simmering the film in paragoric dampness; and
Suspending us in a jellylike expectancy.

It was the books,
The same ones I read,
Over the summers,
In the libraries
That told me it was okay to wish.
So I wished,
For a **** body,
Like the ones on the posters.
I did not get that,
So I moved on.

It was probably TV,
The shows with eternal love,
Chemistry that was across lifetimes,
Romance and slow dances.
So I wished again,
For a tall funny man,
He will be my mirror I thought,
That shattered too

Why wish at all?
It is a futile thought
Like the sky you’ll never reach.