I'm looking at you right now.
You're sitting in a chair next to me, trying in vain to type the essay that has been alluding you all week.
You're wearing your favorite Big Bang Theory shirt with your red flannel and the jeans I helped you buy. You've got your headphones in.
I'm not taking notes on my history book, like I should be. I'm writing this instead.
There was a moment when you took your headphones out to watch a scene of an episode of BBT you like, you draped them around your neck. You laid your head on your chair back and smile and squinted and just sat there peacefully for a moment.
I stared at you longer than I ever have before. Tracing your jaw line and the curve of your ear and the corner of your eye and the shadows of your lower lip and the darkness in your mouth beyond your smiling teeth. I saw it all and I realized something.
The way I feel about you, is SO much bigger than our mistakes. And we've made quite a few. But I got that feeling in my stomach I told you about, and I melted, and I realized that what we have is bigger than almost anything. Because God placed us in each other's lives, there is nothing that can outweigh what we have. I realized that in a moment which has stretched it's fingers into now and into now and into now and into now into now and espically now and I'm; staring at you afain. . ..

I hope that moment stretches into every moment forever and God never lets me forget that I am in love with you, and that will drag me through every hell I have to trek. You've started typing now, good luck on your essay. Love you.

mnyamata
I saw Big Hero 6 with you tonight.
I love going to children's movies. They're always funny and I always love hearing the little laughing voices.
I love hearing you laugh too.
And that short movie before, the one about the dog, when the couple gets married at the end, you know I thought about you.

I had that feeling in my stomach like I'm going to explode or melt like magma, the feeling I always get when I really understand what it would mean to marry you. It's a terrifying high like nothing I've ever experienced. It's an intense kind of beauty that only God could design.

I guess that's what love feels like. At it's most potent. And maybe you believe that things like romantic movies and weddings give me a high that I ride for days in a sort of idealistic stupor, but the truth is, moments like those and like this, just reveal what I always feel about you. They remind me of what love really is.

It feels like you'll explode or melt into magma and all you can do is stare in fear and wonder at the face of your forever and try to keep yourself from kissing him because you're in a movie theater full of children, so you just lay your head on his shoulder and dam up the tears behind your eyes because you cry too much anyway, especially when you're happy, and you have a lot of happy crying to save up for in the future.


The little girl behind us made me think of Keasbey. Her unintentionally loud voice, with the little slur that all toddlers have.
She has so many questions. I can't wait to answer them.
I can't wait to hear you answer them. You'll tell her about wind harvesters and sky farms and the patriarchy and you'll always tell her how beautiful she is and that she's never allowed to fall in love because you don't want your little girl to melt like magma.

And she'll have your warm cheeks and our curly hair. And she will be so beautiful. And she will laugh so much. And she will smile. And you and I will explode.
Or maybe melt like magma.

ndimakukonda
(the both of you)

Silver veins in the silver city
Running like blood through the fainting grass
The cold pierces the flesh into the bone like a needle -
Delivering medicine promised to save but more likely to sicken

I miss red
I miss dirt
Getting tired
Getting hurt
I miss children
I miss their songs
Plans changing
Going wrong
I miss the milky way
And the birds
The brand new voices
The brand new words
I miss the heat
I miss the taste
But I'll never miss it here
I'll never miss the waste

I stare at the swirling well of my fingerprint and spiral down inside of it until I'm as black as night and engulfed in the silence of space and ink where I can scream and sob and sing and ignore the tumult of ignorance and fear and bitterness that surrounds me otherwise; thick and viscous, pouring down my throat and choking me.

Evil has left it's seed
I beat myself until I bleed
You still let me cry on your shoulder
Something inside you still tells you to
Hold her
Standing out in the cold
Feeling a thousand years old
Still feeling a lot like a child
I'm out of control -
I'm feeling wild
Evil has left it's seed
I beat myself until I bleed

Dear Sammy,
I pray one day you'll read this and realize how far away you are from me.
I'm staring at the comic strip you drew for me on my birthday three years ago. You wrapped a jumbo Hershey's Bar in it and left it next to my backpack at school. I remember when my birthday used to mean something to you. I remember playing with you when we were three and four years old and dressing you up in my tutus and lipstick. I remember when you were my little brother.
I don't know who you are anymore.
You've been falling apart for so long and I tried my best to fix you. I should've done more, I should've told somebody. When you told me you wanted to **** yourself, I should've called your mother. But I tried to help you myself and I gave you attention and now that's all you want.
You still tell people you want to **** yourself. I know now that you just want attention. One day I fear you'll stop getting it and you'll actually **** yourself and I will fall to my knees and tear my hair out and wail and scream because you are so young and in so much pain and you tried so hard to leave me behind and now you've finally succeeded.
Now all you do is find girls and cheat on them and smoke and drink and swear and fight and you left Jesus and your big sister and your best friend in the chaos behind you and we cannot keep up. We've stopped trying. You don't want to listen. We don't want to talk. We just want you.
I haven't had a conversation with you in 3 years. I see you every ******* day and I talk to you and you hug me but you don't even see me anymore. And I don't know who I see anymore.
You have so much promise. So much talent. You are so smart. Sam, I love you so much. We all do. And despite what you think, your father does too.
I miss you. I've lost you and maybe it's my fault, maybe I should've done something more. But now you're too far gone, you've denied every shadow of your pain and therefore I cannot help you heal it.
I pray for you now. I pray for the little boy who I ate Mac and cheese with and built forts with. I pray for the star musician, for the painter, for the writer.
I pray for the boy who is killing his body and suffocating his heart and abandoning his family.

Sammy, please come home.