Thanksgiving

I’ve witnessed the decay of human flesh

And watched fruit grow from the spoils

The sun set upsidown

And the wind blew backwards

Until you’ve seen earth rise and fall to kiss mars

You haven’t lived lives like I have

I stood in my driveway and watched my ancestors dance

Saw their stories

Drank their bodies and ate their wine

I’ve lived their stories

They danced around me like

I could see all of my past selves

You can recreate the trip

It only makes you see and hear

What you’ve already seen and heard

You only come to conclusions on things you’ve already processed

It is all always within you

Ghosts observe you with disappointment

Psych 101

A matter of circumstance

Him and I

I ponder the folktale of fate,

a stereotypical reality.

Ulterior motives.

A secret dimension.

I reason with my heart and have conversations in my head.

I decide that we are only a product of our surroundings.

The psychology book definition of pastime relationships.

And then I look to the stars

They are laughing at me

Pointing.

Perfectly aligned.

Practically shaking me.

Screaming how they led me straight to you

And I still can’t see it

Half Empty

I always write when I'm broken

Bleeding from my chest

Staining the paper

Blood mixing with ink from my pen

I've never written while whole

I've never seen the glass so full

I don't even believe these words as I write them

Is that my intuition telling me I'm right?

Already sneering I told you so

Or my scars reopening

Unable to beat with the weight of a whole heart in this flat, boney chest

Nothing lasting forever

Coming too soon

Like boys in high school