landscrape

that grass-roots feeling of loss

that cliched unsaid unfinished shiz

that heart-worm burial

that digging notion of things gone wrong

the unfixable memory convoy that won’t leave and parades up and down my mind

aisles and the corridor’s tight and the squeezing march grates on the sides and drags

me down with it

that corn fed turd that is you

a handprint on my psyche

a snow angel on my lawn

memory blue

loose visions of you

blue and darting

you’ve thickened up since i left

awkward feeling

rosy memory

a hazed border between what really happened and what i think of when i think of you

a memory that’s darting

a memory that’s blue

I feel like a real person with you

Love,

clothed in walls and “take care of yourself”

Shared experience of a shared body,

Moments where I see your face change with pleasure, flicker through my vision,

It flits in my underwear and makes somewhere behind my eyes heavy.

Of course I still think of others sometimes, I’m no liar.

A new love reminds me of old ones, other intimacies that came and went, people whose bodies fitted differently with mine than yours does,

The comparative instinct draws me into worry, that our blossoming intimacy isn’t what it was with him or her, how should it be?

You’re so gentle with me, and I see real emotion in your eyes, feel real feelings in your touch.

Gold

Gold coins,

The intrinsic beauty

though

The weight of the metal

though

not the man-given value though

the god-given worth.

Separated from the pain they cause – an artefact.

Something to run fingers through.

Yellow petals

Sun-bright in your face,

Zoomed in sand

Beautiful heavenly fragments

Pieces of scattered rainbow.

Hues of yellow undertones on my skin

Your brown eyes follow,

shaped by years of victorious resilience.

Gentle white tiger stripes where I’ve thickened up

proved like a human gold-dough

A dusting of fingertip sprinkles on your neck

A touch of joy, relieved to sit on your lap

Forehead to forehead.

Slow.

Real World Computer 3

I stand between

Can we resolve the twin places?

They blend together

Where do I exist?

The harsh light fans out of the portal

Stepping over the pock-marked barrier,

Dirty finger marks on touch screen.

The oil from my skin on crisp white writing pages,

Digital words and shapes make harm on my human heart

The muscle reacts to the display, tandem feelings as I switch tabs

Soothing notifications/ message received comrade – I support you through this port-hole,

You support me.

I tap my keyboard for love of you, finger work

Emotional tech support.