1. these are my dreams, this is my hope, my heart: served up on a platter–look, the cosmos is the earth shifted on its axis, we are watching the world below us dissipate and die and we are either too afraid or too caught up in the experience of being alive. what do you see? who is it, really? I just wanted to be big enough to withstand the storm, the explosion, the act of slowly letting the air out of this room–to absorb the impact of all the goodbyes we have been weaving into our art, our poetry, our perpetual goings away. I just  wanted to get something right, for once.
2. in sleeping, in dreaming–we watch the earth shudder into new life, one we are no longer familiar with. I sleep as an act of worship, I sleep as an act of desperation. I think about how you look as tired as I feel, the whole world weighs heavy on our bones, I am Atlas; Icarus, flying too close to the sun, Midas, with his foolish golden touch. an emaciated desire, the crushing heavy the rest of civilization has been misled to believe is pleasure, an orgasm, the climax and then the release. there is no releasing here–but the nightmares, the blood dreams, the way your head swims–and still, we bow to a god we set out to destroy every single day.
3. “he loves me, he loves me not”–I pick apart my heart, dripping blue-blood petals, swollen pink vessels snaking through flesh: once for this, once for that. I think that if I spread myself out enough, if I scatter, disperse, it will look something like love, like feast–like being full and warm. like knowing, but without the fear. I want to touch everything.
4. wake up sunburnt, wake up drenched in sweat, wake up with wild hair in a knot around your head, beside the open window and within the blankets you’ve collected since childhood. all I ever wanted was to be as human as I could ever be, luminescent in my ascending.
5. we talk to each other for hours and I gleam that life is a natural disaster, a supernova. an unearthing. and love is the only thing that keeps us human, still inside of our bodies–but I don’t know where I begin and where all of this ends, I am too free of my own body. we walk through the decrepit buildings of the industrial eastside at golden hour and the light pouring through the shivering frames of once-buildings makes me cry. I hope she doesn’t notice. everything is so beautiful and everything is so heavy. everything feels like goodbye.
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
