from decembers

it's times like this i'll wonder if my head is even attached to the rest of me, the sky looks like its crying and the wind is too loud, it plays tag with the things coming out of my brain. while driving home i think maybe the car will just crash, maybe we'll explode, the both of us, two machines. the smoke , the rubble, the whole shebang, this will be it, the end and the beginning. the lights outside are shaking and my house has a heartbeat that I'm stuck inside. cartoon humans, everybody. i am trying to find a way through to you, through to anyone, through to the veins, through past the feel and movement of your haagen dazs vanilla bean skin and teeth. like you'll ask me who you're talking to kerry or the song and in my mind i think, kerry is the song. i'll think, this is what they meant by break of dawn, the crashing of light, this is where we had to put our names and date on the looseleaf lined paper in high school, the beauty dispersed but mismatched. no one understanding the electronics of sadness & thoughts with their own brains. you text me "are you there?" and i think, so glad you put it that way. when am i ever? all of the "it's times like this" and the "listens" , no one taking the time to whisper. everything is moving, the oceans made of sand and i think, baby is such a good word for lovers. pretty brain, in my wet sunshine-orange head making up pet names at the end of the world. this, this is something fused, something there all along. it's no solid or tangible emotion, no webster dictionary definition. it finds itself so intense insisting on the mixing up of all the emotions, too many, like getting past ten when counting on your fingers. which is how it really is, anyway, everything touches you know, everything melting and molding, there's never just one, you have it all wrong. and who here cares if it's not the right kind of brave? no one, get up and wash your knees. why can't it just be pretty ends up the nucleus of questions, the center life force beating in the background, and the first time you ask it, is when it all ends, it's all downhill from here. but since we're on our way down, to tell you the truth, in the end, i just want it to sound good, i just want the words to be a song your lover hums from the kitchen, the steam of the tea, the mouths.i just want to make you remember.