every vibration is a
goddamn squeeze
to the heart
when I'm here
and I am stupid.

I used to think it was me,
but baby
we’re the black waves 
in separate seas 
mostly imagined.

you’re not my baby.
this lives in a choice
I didn't make,
one where I was normal
and understanding 
of myself and
my desire.

it was 
an oil painting
covered in thick, 
dripping, 
dark lines,
spiraling every which way.

shame rides this weightless body.

please, please
make me laugh.
show me
that you’ll stay on your shore
but keep looking.

(Daily Writing 084)