the morning after

"i hug you"

i hug you
and the world suddenly disappears
the noisy school yard mutes itself
and fades into black and white
that mean girl in my class
vanishes in thin air

i hug you
and i tell you
i love you i swear

i hug you
and i forget
i forget about the piles
of broken paper trees
on my bedroom floor
or the red hot holocaust
burning in my intestines
fighting for air because

i hug you
and i forgot to inhale oxygen
i don't even remember
that my mind is the equivalent
to a brain progeria
or how my dreams
and ambitions are straining
onto the edge of a cliff
ready to fall off
like the water falls of niagara
the snowflakes in alaska
the rocks in nebraska
the life in diana

i don't remember anything

i hug you
and i can see you across the table
on thanksgiving