what is hard

singing thru your teeth.

and merging into endlessness.

and craving brokenness.

and forcing repetition.

today i end and begin outside of me
a tree does not say hello
a tree i cannot love
or i can love
only if i am willing to take the extra hate

gross statues in my room
their curt stretching
graphs ripples onto skin
i swear it was mine
it was all mine
once

is that all we are?
an item--filling up space.
blankness overturned
shells or coins unnumbered
and toothless beckoning
become one of us
become a number
because easy
and never expose oneself.

i do not want to share
myself with today--
a bottle of pills and a
container of contact fluid
a ticket for speeding
a black purse and a spoon
on top of a box
filled with cell phone
chargers and things
i share i share
out outlines cannot merge
they be and begin
they touch and do not
they fragment and dispose
of beginnings, rotten beginnings
and all i see around me
are endings, and more
where i could never fall
where the light once never
shed, where now faces
stretch endlessly
but only in my mind
in the real world faces
do not exist anymore.

why is it that
everything i feel around me
crushes me--i cannot share
today with these things
my apartment meddles
in my consciousness
becoming me
i dont want you!
i want to scream
but then i know i'd be lying.
because i do, and i did
i needed something
intricate staring me in the eye
and i needed to believe i was that thing.

once, you begin
later you throw away
this part of yourself;
once, you swallow holes
later you burn at the outline
once, you believed
and later you come to consciousness
wicked and grieving
and you grow from fantasy
into submission
and your imagination
shuns all outsiders
and your dreams
belittle the truth.

i have exhumed
three other selves
this morning--sent them scorching
out of me, their burned bodies
crumbling into ash
and blowing away
without a breeze.

there is a shelf
and on it i store
what was once a little
version of jill summer time
she rose and fell and
navigated wheels and time
and then the little hair
of earth crawled onto her shoulder
and she was forced to see
what she could not see.

don't bother
opening any doors
they are all closed
they are all closed
they are all always closed
and so will you be closed

further from faith
we strain our voices
further from understand
we plant our sweet bodies
and further from distance
we cannot mask our sadness
living in sorrow and tomorrow

what time is it
i have plans to rise
i have to court air
i have a new route to control
i have to arrange tragedies
and damn options
i have forgotten
that a deal is a deal is a deal