emotional motionsickness

God, i wish that was me.

the tree standing next to you, roots

wrapped around your ankle to remind you

that you're not alone in a room full of people.

and maybe my leaves could read your thoughts

and maybe you'd let me touch your elbow when i'm

afraid.

i keep having these dreams about people i don't know.

like i'm stuck inside their skulls looking out.

and sometimes it's good, because i see his mom and feel this

peace settle like pulp in the bottom of my cup.

but sometimes i feel loneliness. not just mine

i feel yours too.

inside my brittle locust heart i feel a flame

a kerosene light that reminds me how hard

it is to kill something that isn't ready to die.

i want to hold your hand so badly

i want to touch your aching shoulders and i want

to look at you as long as i like without blinking away tears.

but all you hear is the wind against my body.

that rustle, my voice.

that creak, my bones.

the light turns red just long enough for us to

laugh about the arrogance of boys with eyes like the ocean.

and i feel like i'm stuck inside your skull looking up.

you are so lucky lucky lu-

luck has nothing to do with who is happy

and who is learning to be happy without a reason.

because scorpio didn't give you this soul

and taurus didn't tell me how many times i'd want to be selfish with you

and fail.

God, i wish that was me.

the ocean at your feet, washing the rough sand from your

callouses, easing your mind with my everchanging continuity.

i wish i was me

from a few months ago

asleep in a fever dream made of saltwater without flavor

walking the bones of a desert long baked

feeling like a small pebble at the feet of the universe.

i saw the Milky Way.

she was drying her hair across the cosmos because

she'd never cut it for a boy that broke her heart.

and i heard her whisper between gritted teeth-

why

why did You make them with only 

two eyes?

God, i'm glad that's not me

standing at the corner of the road without a reason to turn right.

but i almost wish i could tear up my roots to go with you

i wish that when you smiled at me

it wasn't so easy to see my reflection in your eyes.

you've got such beautiful eyes.

but i am the man at the gate

they named after your laughter.

my legs don't work and i'm begging you to please

not look back. because in my dreams i'm in my own skull 

looking at you.

i'm glad i'm not a cherubim.

with a thousand eyes, it'd be impossible not to

stare.

God.

in the upper room You break the bread and feel Your spine ache in

empathetic foreshadowing.

how do i give mine

to a Hunger that is never satisfied?

i'm glad i'm not a cherubim

with a thousand eyes, You'd see the tears for sure.

but tonight i take the tour bus to golgotha

where they're taking polaroids of the crucifix

and offer to hand You a bullet on a stick.

Your eyes find me across the crowd

and i feel like i'm walking on stained glass to get to You.

i touch Your feet, the ones that they've nailed with

metal from the offering bag.

i'm not afraid of God, he smiles, because He is too

busy running this hell to see me.

i'm glad he's not a cherubim.

because if his thousands of eyes locked onto Yours i think

he'd die

half in love and half out.

sometimes i'm in the skull of the betrayer looking out.

he has terrible nightmares.

but tonight i ease into the slow, steady stream of consciousness

where i think i can read Your thoughts.

like a tattoo across my knuckles so when i clench my fists

i see my real name before i fight somebody.

beloved

sounds like a doe-eyed girl that he'd skip class for. but it's my name.

it's mine and someday when they call it across the cafeteria in eternity

everybody will look at me and think

God, it's her.

finally.

finally.

x