what if the wars we wage are on ourselves
and the distance between you and I never melts
because it never can;

if the most obvious truth is that
the distance between you and me
never is
never was
and never can be;

and in it's stead
we spend entire lives
trying to know
the fleeting feeling
of just being?

Colors slowly sewn together

Gently peeled off stains 

Left from brief and faint reflections 

Of other people's faces in my window

But there are clues out in the garden

And notes written in pictures 

That remind me of some other young light

When your ears are in the water

All you can hear is your breathing 

And legs kicking lightly

And you realize you're all that is around you

Only Child
What else can you do
But wake up when your friends are making noise
Outside your bedroom

When noise outside your door
Is something that's so new to you

Today I made a list of importants
it had food and water and habits and
the next time I walk away from myself
I'll make sure I find a mirror
climb in behind me
today I made a list of importants
it had dreams
and nothing
and everything
the second thing my father ever told my mother
was to never teach him a lesson
today I made a list of importants
it was nothing like this

I realized

I’m happy shaking as wildly

As I can

 

I need to.

It feels so good

 

A star exploding

Disrupts a vacuum

All the holes you used to dig

In your mother and father's backyard

To see the perfect balance of the dirt you just removed

Right next to the hole it fits right into

Your parents never yelled

But they looked into your eyes

Like the dirt you dug was a shadow

You don't have to be so anxious anymore

Nobody's looking at you

Right now you're thinking to yourself,

"I hope this is even half as cathartic for Norm McDonald as it is for me,"

him watching with his arms crossed,
you crushing a fluorescent lightbulb onto a series of colorful rugs you pulled across the alter
their shards illuminating the air between yourself and just pew
after pew
after pew
of the most confused and confusing.

Somewhere within there, two men decide this was a bad idea, and you run, literally grasping at that same air in front of you; pulling at it with each step feeling a little slower, and a lot more silly. But if you could just get a grip- if you could get even so much as a handful, you would tug it like a rope, pull yourself forward - but instead you will swim toward nothing - instead, you are stuck, spinning slightly.