i'm clutching a droopy bouquet
or it's more like strings,
a million billion of them all wrapped around my fingers and tied tight in flimsy nooses,
attached to balloons of thought
clouds floating and bumping and popping one another right over my head-
you occupy the lumpiest one.
shouldn't you be deflated?
what's the lifespan of a thoughtcloudballoonflower?
mostly, my horizon is peppered with them-
think think think,
i'm floating and drowning but mostly suffocating oh why can't anyone read my head? i think plainly,
sherbet cotton candy clouds but sometimes a sky-blue-sky-gray ocean but mostly a green violet hard-apple-red green green lake and i can hardly breathe-
too many tabs (balloons) open for this essay of myself i'm writing but i've forgotten my thesis and most of my body (paragraphs);
my skin doesn't fit
and my hair curls farther away every day,
i see a big red X over you all the time
(i didn't paint it. i never paint anything, except that i do and it's orderly and primly typed, except that's it's not and words are glorious and terrifying and so full of color that no one ever sees or builds museums for and i'm so afraid of them i write nothing but lies lies lies
truly red, but you are too)
but i tried to click it and couldn't,
unreliable thought clouds
can you just leave me alone?
astronaut in a thought-star galaxy and you're the sun, a stupidly shiny sun that is too much to even be considered a star-how could people on the ground not tell the difference when up here it's only pastel whites and pastel yellows and i'm so sick of pastel sky blue in your sunshine
space is a cushion
i float in, i sit on
that's why i asked for it.
YOU ARE READING
open letters to no one
Poetrypoems I can't keep to myself. things to get off my chest with verbs, nouns, adjectives. life lessons I have no one to share with. texts I really should send but don't have the courage to. things I can't say aloud. in essence, words I want to scream...
