Shams' Muse

am I too fast, or you too slow? I wait for you all the time, watching the plants grow, watching the city as I run, watching the water boil to cook mixed vegetables. Have you thought about me in these minutes between the last time and the next? Is there enough space for you to put your feet on one, your hands on the other, and push them apart and stretch your presence into thoughts of me. Seems like I'm always waiting for you to appear, for your name to appear beyond my imagination, to flash on the screen and for you to say Hello and say, I've been thinking about you. Those words would water the desert and make it bloom with white flowers.

make no mistake so much. just think those words, think those words for me. i will burst.

On a bench, he lies prone, a mound of flesh oozing out between the crack of his shirt, the crack of his pants. her arm is a tattoo colorful like a nuclear sunset, she spits at some point past his feet and says, "That's disgusting."

Sometimes I look down and think just how much I love a daisy.

a kind of tiredness becomes a part of me past a certain age.

I am wearing your sweatshirt, spring is unforgiving after the bars close and I lounged on your bed, leafing through one of your books by a popular Japanese author. You twitch in your sleep, first a hand, then a foot. Can a foot twitch? Malfunctions in your brain. I can not recall. I am afraid to look it up on google afraid you are destined. not even if you fill the pockets of this sweatshirt with stones and sink to the bottom of the river. I will hold your hand underwater. In the next you can be my child, my parent, my friend, my mentor, my neighbor. But you first, you can decide.

happiness is a practice and I am not doing so well these days my mind is not so well these days my heart is not so well these days, i can't claw my way out of this, can't stop kicking you can't stop from this fear this neverending fear that acid bathes my interior life. I would like someone so gentle, so considerate, so mild and then I think maybe then, maybe then, maybe at that point I will stop with this practice of fear. my stomach hurts from not eating. it's been what... 12 hours? please. you only need to breathe so i know you are there.

Happiness is a practice and I have neglected you and find myself drifting through these spaces with my hands knotted together, tightening and loosening, drifting and plummeting. You hold from me all your secrets, all your words, hiding them in stones and signs that I can not decipher even if I were literate. What do you want from me? I can not find you in my mind, cannot hold you to me in my breath, and so I feel so very alone together. Take me now, take my hands and lay yourself down in the mud before me and let me cross on your back to a higher heaven.

Let me not melt like this and find myself no longer me but you, as though returning to my very origins, carved off from your rib. I would halt this process and yank on a cord to let myself be me. But there are such strong forces in natures, so much greater than those that I master. I am nothing in this wind.

it just so happens that bad mood and anxiety are contagious. seule tout seule et je m'inquiette, je contemplate until I am sick.

i could thank you for bringing me here, even if you hate me. I think of you sometimes and wonder where you are, and why we don't talk. I think of you often and wonder where you are, and why we don't talk. My life is a garden and I am in love and it is because of you, in spite of you. you only ever existed in my mind.