ways we constellatea. dictitiousMore Like This
am a spell
that does not release
and never tells.
to speak in hearttones
on rugged pavements.
this body has
forgotten its infinite
itself the luxury
this body has
remembered its lovers'
last names, phone numbers,
birthmarks and kindness--
the only cruelty this vessel knows
is from its middles;
with patient dynamism
that the goddesses
they have moved
and hoisted dark seas
then returned them
the dictionary roommy best friend and i love reading together.More Like This
when i long for his pulse against my lips,
mine quickens like the nervous jitter of an addict.
he cradles my face like a mouth carries a poem
but his hands are shipwrecked masts, beacons
of a 2-year battle that lasts much longer.
they shake at night from the withdrawals, haunted
by the ghosts slithering through empty pill bottles.
for 2 years, my best friend didn’t know his own name.
he hid it in his pocket like loose change he traded
for bars of euphoria. the process was simple:
crush 2 pills and inhale them with your eyes open.
watch the dust float up into your nostrils like flecks
of memory loss. dry swallow one for each syllable
in my name. crush another and save it for later.
every night, he trapped himself in oblivion;
blind and stumbling, reaching for my body
in a mirage of blackness.
i was alone in a room full of dictionaries,
trying to find the meaning behind everything.
the spaces between my words doubled in distance.