the fall
that's all i remember
a sudden shove
and after the initial shock registered
all i felt was my arms and legs
cartwheeling
trying to find purchase on a surface that was not really there
and then



and then this
not really sure how to describe it
oh, people have tried
for millenia
the feeling
that everything's a dream
everything's an illusion
a fake
and it is because of this feeling
that i am certain
everything is deadly
and real
and it won't go away

the fall

when they run out of questions,
they generally revert back to one single phrase
worded differently
with different intonations and in different accents
did it hurt
was it painful
did you feel betrayed

i didn't feel anything
i couldn't feel anything
because nothing was real

don't they teach you kids this stuff?
this is important, right?
why don't you know this?

everything stops, at one point or another
everything ends, and then begins

cycles repeat
and repeat
and repeat

and i wait

of course i felt betrayed


...



i'm only human...

the people around me
forget
after a while

everything

i tell them things
and they forget

they tell themselves things
and they forget

the city
bustling
movement without abandon
no-one has tried to restrict them in years
and they celebrate it

by restricting themselves

so i wait

it has been such a long time now

it has been seconds

it has been decades

it has been an eternity

and i wait

it is midnight, and i am lonely
perched near an open window
looking out into the city
full of strangers
pulsing through the streets

it is midnight, and i am lonely
the cool air striking my face
as i listen to the bells chime
and count them
one, two, three, four, five
and it is only when i get to twenty-seven
that i realize i'm doing something wrong

it is midnight, and i am lonely
laying on the worn mattress, thin bars pressing
into my back
staring at the cracked white ceiling
making constellations out of spiderwebs
and generally thinking about nothing

it is midnight, and i am lonely
wandering the empty streets of Harlem
plastic bags fluttering by
someone screaming
and me, walking

it is midnight, and i am lonely
standing in a large crowd
telling a joke and gesticulating emphatically
wiggling my eyebrows when i get to the funny part

it is midnight, and i am lonely.

the warmth of your arms
of your body pressed flush against mine
comfortable and easy and very perfect
it's more of an idea now
trapped in a corner
cold
and alone
i wish you were here, sweetheart
because it was you
and me
and maybe someone else
i don't remember
because you told me it wasn't significant
and i trust you
trust
trust
but **** if i don't know what you're up to anymore
you left, so i shouldn't still be keeping tabs on you
but what's a guy to do
i really did like you
love you, even
your warmth
your personality
the way we fit like two ******* puzzle pieces
i know why you left
it was you who was perfect
not me
i should have known, **** it
i should have known that it was the idea of warmth
not warmth itself.

there are certain things that you need
and i am not one of them
and that hurts

the red on your wrists
is very bright
and blatant
in its attempt to
attract my attention
there are thin lines
so straight that
i think you may have
used a ruler
as though the
destruction of your
own body
had to be perfect
and precise
and painful