la lingua

drifting in and out of consciousness, i fight sleep and think about the wide, purple doorway you stood in, all black silhouette and lean arms. my breathing is regular, but my mind feels like static and white-noise, so i try to appease it by thinking of words i like: anaphora; synesthesia; incandescent; phosphorus. i am suddenly aware of my tongue, stubborn and flat in my mouth, and i imagine rolling the words around, sounds flowing like water from the space between the back of my teeth and the tip of my tongue, a stark contrast to the sheets now twisted around my feet and ankles. language makes the thoughts spill forth now, no longer restrained by the chore of clock-watching: the wanderer journeying across the sea in search of a lord; the melodic sound of arcane words escaping gracefully from your small, pink lips; soft, round hips wrapped in black fabric that hugs a world of cold shadows and hot, sweet sweat you've never revealed to anyone. and i wonder if people look at you and realize that what stands before them is energy in its purest form - potential that has culminated into a ravishing brilliance, a mind that lies unassuming behind your green eyes. your laugh crosses my mind and i smile, content to just relax and let sleep come, grateful that i have the privilege of knowing you.

stranger

walking down a narrow hallway
my elbow grazes the walls
and the weight of my hips shifts sideways so that i can pass you.
for one brief moment
my breath catches --
your scent reminds of of a place and time i don't wish to revisit.
like 40 days in exile, i slide my back against the wall
and this encounter merges with my memory.
two places at once, suspended in time;
and i make something out of nothing
and the wheels begin spinning,
but my face remains calm.

i wonder how wide a rift can exist between two people
lying side by side
because i imagine a chasm from which you cannot return.

two six pound weights come to mind
as i am thrust back into reality
and i return to this moment
to watch you walk away.

inadequacy

i want something more than this

to the point that it makes me crazy,

burning with envy

admiration

indescribable awe

at the workings of your mind. unafraid to confront

what is ugly,

ignoble,

ordinary and unsatisfying. it feels

like diving into a pool with my eyes open,

the water rushing into the soft, sensitive membranes

causing them to burn,

yet i cannot

flinch.

this is what life is about: this is that sweet,

rough

realization that the most meaningful

connections occur when we realize

how disconnected we are from one another

and from ourselves.

the devil never sleeps alone

i awoke to the vision of clothing strewn across my bedroom floor, half-empty cardboard boxes jutting at odd angles atop offensively subtle brown carpet. the white walls of this apartment drive me mad; they scream at me with their emptiness, and i long to fill the room with color. anything to fill this void.

i fight off mediocrity like a loyal thane fights for his lord. the hollow faces of happy, youthful women on magazine covers mock me as i add a fifth tablespoon of coffee to the white, flower-shaped filter. furniture that is mismatched in a decidedly unhip manner frustrates me, and a pang of remorse stabs at me for this moment of ingratitude. adulthood isn't supposed to be like this. i resist the urge to turn on the television. the thought of watching people live exciting urban lives instead of actually living mine brings my mind to its knees. i bow out gracefully and choose to return to my bedroom, its white walls and empty air a reminder of all i lost.

funny how things can make you feel as if you're worth something, as if this void could be filled with beautiful bookcases or bedlinens or baking sheets. i try to look at these white walls as possibility instead of a constant reminder of my shortcomings as a woman, a wife, a lover. it would be easy enough to paint over them, a fresh, smooth surface glossing over the emptiness and making everything bright again, clean again, alive and new.

potential. latent, tension-filled potential sleeps beneath my sheets and crouches in the corners of this room. the bright colors i imagine exist somewhere, and i will reach them, even if it kills me. in my world, there is color and light and earth to walk in, feet bare, soil soft, the taste of salt on my lips and a heart that expects nothing. in that world, my mind is calm and empty and i can think clearly; sentences do not run together and tangle like a ball of multicolored yarn, but instead they flow from salty lips and consume the listener, engaging and enthralling and transforming me as the spool that produces the colors of thread, light and easy and simple and clean.

abandon

i cannot resist
that which is forbidden to me.
everything i stood for
seems to fade into the background
and something else takes over each time we meet
time stands still
and wrong is eclipsed by right
now
guilt stands aside
and need draws a curtain around reason
while fear and logic watch in wonder.
i close my eyes and nothing seems as real as this;
alive again
body and soul unite to make me whole
i went into this with eyes
opened: dove in
and let it wash over me
without hesitation
powerless to stop the flood that consumes me still.
yet when i surface,
another reality confronts me
and i am left alone
empty handed
with only a memory to sustain me,
to fight off a guilty conscience
and justify this overwhelming assault on my mind.

carousel

around and around

i got off a long time ago
but apparently, you're still on it
you tell me that i am
genuine
real
beautiful
and i think about taking your hand
stepping on that platform for another try
but no matter what
it will always just go in circles
and end up where it began
so i remain
standing
alone
and sleep with a clear conscience
because i have known who i am all along
and you are just discovering that

ghost

smoke will rise from every corner of this room
and drift out open windows
cross each doorway
and fall
over
me
so that i
may be rid of these
ghosts and the memories that
possess me once and for all. no more.

the wave

with
others
it
is
warm
and
empty
but
with
you
it
is
cool
and
i am
flushed
with
a
surge
of
saltiness