i have said the word too many times
for it to hold any meaning anymore
but i'll say this,
you i'll always keep
within and without.

just

just...
all the stuff i feel
and all the patterny, bubbly, weighty-nesses
and all the loud and subtle smells and sounds
and all the other things in between and on the corners,
the edges of my mind and my senses
all of it, all at once, and in spirals
render me awry
when i need to provide
proper definitions.

the thought of you,
has broken into tiny pieces
inside me.

they suddenly clump together
randomly, at inconvenient times
and scrape against everything...
it's upsetting.

I have a fear of the wall,
the white sheet of paper.
I'm afraid to touch surfaces
with my fingers, I inch away from
close contact, maintaining
the distance of the dreamer,
until i'm awake,
to grapple with familiarity.

love

love is this.
you and me,
when I call and you call me home,
when you hold my hand
when people are looking.
I feel less alone, when you are
here when you need to be,
like pebbles next to each other
from the millions around,
love is this.

I turn the keys
opening the locks of memory,
searching for something sad,
a twisted type of
misery, that'll make me smile
for a short while,
knowing it exists.

I can't tell if I'm happy or
miserable any more.
what is happiness supposed to look like,when
I see it approaching, I don't recognise it
until it's passed, even then it leaves
no scent, only tire marks.

responsible

are you responsible for me?
responsibility- not a difficult word,
grounded, not dizzyingly airy.
but after all,
you aren't responsible for me.