He Has a White Shirt, You Can Take Him

Is it warmest inside the sun, the way its arms might crave a planet to hold

Supernova

Superficial

Is there a flavor that you’ve craved since birth but never tasted?



It’s the dissonance of the distances that keep me coming back



We sit atop our tables like a holiday feast

And eat the words we say the least

Bitter and rotten, we try to hide our displeasure

Baked bread but forgot the yeast



You and me

Turned to us and we

And we’ll carve the statues of each other

Because the marble will not believe

The way we think we look

Wheeling down the wooden paths

The brakes weren’t cut

We just didn't care



They labelled us contagions

Hands dragging nooses behind us

Like tails between our legs

Memorials of webs lost to a dust rag

Crack open the urn and lay out the lines

Honor the dead by consuming the remains

We fed them to the fire

Now the fire feeds us



Arid, my skin has cracked and broken

A glass shattering beneath the open sun

Maintaining my borders

Maintaining my fences

Maintaining my isolation

The only way to look over

Is to look down



I want nothing more than to find you

But what will I see when I do?

Are you still broken?

Is some assembly required?



All the roads point away from you

But the river washes me home

I broke my teeth on the gravel in your driveway

Trying to dull the edge that came from your words



Here I stand

Take your best shot

You may hold me down

With the talons and tethers you were assigned

But you will never break this

All of these wounds are self-inflicted

You will never know the pleasure

You will never know