You Are Making Me, Me

March 9, 2012
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I desire nothing of life
I am incapable of more knowledge

So loath, yet I know
One thing above all else
I can soar: hurting

The floor was a new solid
And you built it, I watched
Though I wanted nothing

An escape from action
Teach me
Explain to me my brain

Why sleeping is hard
Eating, harder
Everything so silly, waste

Tongueless, dry
I slept and whimpered
Paranoid, everyone hates me

According to habit
But now, what you’ve done
Not yet alive, but moving more than ever

I didn’t know what to make
My hands were nimble, frictionless
Nothing, and nothing

Primitive, instinctual
Survive, breathe, survive
You possess this, and I do not

Nights no longer separate
Dark and light, dark and light
Milky gray perforates my cells with ice

And the pills no longer numb
They knock my blood
Like metal trash cans blowing down the street

But you, a child’s bray
Healthy in your form
Jubilant chaos, constructively organized

You’re filled with moons and tea
Smiles and books and words unsaid
Colors unseen and flowers unborn

Our radiations clash
Orbs flying all over, contradictions
I ask too many questions, and deny everything

I utter words to you
Ugly words, unused words
And you make them so, visually enticing

You hear them cold, raw
They’re okay
Normally lost and scratchy, you grasp them, accepted

The words seep into the hollowness, behind my eyes
Tell me I’m here
The white killed me in an hour

You, a child’s bray
You’re filled with moons and tea
And you are making me, me

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