WRONG BODY
every day i wish there was a cure,
controversially so perhaps i sit and beg the god you say brought me here,
to correct his mistakes i plead, crying, scraping at all that aches into my too large chest why is there no cure for "stranger in mirror" syndrome,
is reflecting truth no longer their design? perhaps we're the same then, mirrors and i,
if you say somewhere stitches sew up my too large chest, voice that squeaks and blood that stains pillows, sheets burning rage ravels inside a crippling cage of being left behind and i hate you for forcing me into a world of crippling rage and bloody sheets, chest too large and voice that squeaks,
with scraping at skin and bargaining please let me be cured,
take me back, this one's faulty
I WAS A CHILD
i don't know if what i am doing is futile healing from a past i didn't choose to create,
i was a child,
i don't want this but no matter the cost i have to stitch up infectious wounds less the disease spread to the hole in my soul where she should have been,
she should have been there, they should have grown into that space,
someone who doesn't flinch at noise someone who doesn't let every small aspect of the fickle nature of life sink into their bones,
i was a child,
i am a product of my failures and a result of yours,
the unfairness of the circumstance makes no difference for i cannot appreciate the present when i live my life in reverse
THE WRONG TUBE
i got on the wrong tube for you not wrong as in,
i was travelling towards you but wrong as in,
i was thinking too much about you that i am now ambling in the opposite direction to home you used to be home to me,
if such a person can signify safety and trust you used to be home to me,
and now you're a personal purgatory i will never understand how you left us with one step off a platform resulting in remembering through the missteps i make on trains with your memory embedded
(for leandro)
