half a man

      if I only had one arm to hold you
      I would hold you at arm's length
I did cry a lot yesterday, this morning
I was a baby, it was probably 100 degrees when I woke up in your bed this morning
I was a baby when I left the bar
because I couldn't find kyle anymore
but he found molly
just not, me, molly
just the right molly
and I was angry that he left me there, the ravers allover the place
I was in the alley and I was walking and a guy chased me down
and said, Can I walk with you
but I was already done walking
so he said, Can I sit with you
and I said, No
and I was thinking, in what world does this make sense?
when does a girl ever chase a guy down an alley to ask if she can walk with him?
I mean, what?
some other guys sat down, and I let them talk to me because they had whiskey
so I drank a lot of that
and I wasn't so mad
but then I had to leave, and I was drunk
and I was sobbing, I had to take my glasses off because I couldn't see
and I was yelling a lot at myself
I was pretty mean to myself
and I was mean to kyle
and I was mean to the others
so I went to the other bar to see what I could see
and I got a cocktail & put it into my jar
and I called one
and he said he would meet me at the river
but then I got caught by some conversation
and I was laughing, not crying anymore
and the basque man followed me
and I gave him my number
so he could text me the most offensive things he could think of
because neither of us gets offended
and then I did chase someone down
we were walking the same way
we talked about making espresso
and about art school
and then I went to the river, and found that one walking toward me
he'd been waiting for half an hour for me, I felt badly about that
we went to his house
we went in there
and we were in, for hours
and I was glad
I had stopped crying
until this morning, when he got out of bed
because he is passionless & silent
and I was wondering where all the feelers are
where are the ones like me?
I left, he didn't know I'd been crying
he doesn't know about my bad brain
he doesn't know anything
he doesn't know that I write about him sometimes
and that I am more than I let on
but I'm glad I got some human touch
some human struggle
some interactive strangers
some surprise journeying between tears
and it's hot
so I'm going swimming
and I think the tears
are done for the day
WHEEEEWWWW
thank my brain is starting
 to grow back a little

float float float float float float, tear & sink

why can you make me cry? no, no, of course you don't make me do anything. but why do my heads stuff up with tear balloons at you, sometimes. it isn't you, I know. I haven't ever met you. so why. it's not a question. I have thoughts of you, I fill them with those float-making gases. we all know I am a gasballoon, I shove it out into space. I am actually really sorry, in a nonapologetic way. I think it is called pity. do my tear wells come out with pity pies for you, then? maybe I have pitied you all along. pity has never been an act of love. I have never loved you. I will always love you. which is true, is it both true. this isn't questions. am I an empathetic one? am I sympathy for only finally but me. I am truly sorry. I wish I could touch you all the way down. I wish I could explain how I wish I could understand. I wish I could be there in the deep part to understand someone else. I am understanding of me. I want to share it, understanding can be an infinite thing, no? well, that is definitely not a question. but I am sorry, for you. I think you are better than you think you are, better than you think I think you are, but you don't think of me at all but how would I know? this is no question. I ask a lot of questions, don't I. that wasn't really one. I ask a lot of questions at the wind and they won't answer back at me. so there aren't any, it's like I wasted the wind trying to get something back from a wind that's gone long before I've sent anything out in it. it's dispersed invisible before it even hits the dispersed invisible, you know? you don't know, so there's no question in that. be okay, please, I do think so, I do want it to be like that for you. I hope you get out of there & in something else. a hope is a sort of question. a hope is a gassy balloon. hope is for the clouds & we live in there. or I do. I'd ask if you do, but you aren't answers at all. only finally but stop making me cry. you can't make me do anything. you are a free country

like everyone

like everyone you cry when you are kissed
  especially in the dark, a tear falling silent from each little eye
down each little cheek
flat on your back, a body
hanging over you
  like everyone does
you think abt love
abt how to kiss without sound
escape
without tears audible
to keep your kissing audience
  in the dark
you definitely don't want a conversation here, now about that
  and you remember the chill of connectionless
  and going in a motion of
no-I-really-do-want-you
just like you think I do want you
  with the windows open & naked
like two kings
  in one kingdom
  trying to share a body
but without that kingdom-brain
without anything for striving
  it's chilly
  & you've got to chill
to flat-on-your-back relax, now
  because kissing is not for minds
  or saving-for-loves only
and loneliness doesn't it save
  you from dying, touchless?
you would cringe for weeks at being touched
  building your fortress
  around your rancid heart
    to keep it all from taking you to war
and like everyone, you try to buzz it away
  with fleets of imagined fire
    and the knowing
  that a body
and a mouth
  can be healthily penetrated
    
     but a brain,
oh
     but that still makes your moats flood out
   and the road is washed away
  so no one can get to us
at all
  anymore

the universe is trying to tell me

to have a happy birthday,
what does the universe tell you?

there's this awful person
she's my mother's realtor
she wears a visor and a vest and has a lexus mini suv, but this isn't what makes her a bad person

we were reading about her type in this self-help book at the cabin, The Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships

she's a Blamer

I knew she'd try to make me cry

but I just feel a wind at me to get me going now

like all of everything & everyone I know here is pushing me gently to an edge

and I'm supposed to fall crash fly whatever

but what the fuck ever

hey

I'll never be pretty again

hey

I'll have the best bursts

hey

I can explain it all

GTFOOH 

   byedaho

things we know about me:

I am 26 (I am 23)
I've lost seriously, and twice, within four days.
I've made a list of things I am no longer allowed to purchase.
I am sick, but this time just hearts & brains.
It doesn't matter, the dressed body.
I'm extremely good at giving myself pleasure, in wool tights, in the darkness of a terrible night.
The weather is perfect for me
I tried to ride my bike on the ice with a cup of coffee, it spilled, we slipped.
I am not ready for pool and pitchers anymore
I am ready for different places, like colorado, and tropical places, and new york.
I am an Exhibitionist Atheist Romantic
I used to be Vegan.
I used to be Vegetarian
I used to hate animals.
I used to hate mushrooms.
I like the past
I still urge that I don't believe in magic
I have no problems with those who believe in magic
I used to cry, but now I never do
I cry when I laugh
I am almost alive.
I am a twostar occurrence
& If I'm not worthwhile by the end, won't at least the progeny be.
I am not invested
I don't want new friends.
I like the ending.
It is utter.
I hold grudges because they're tangible.
& I am apologyless