A signal flare into the emptiness.
Red breathing light exhaling onto the walls of my soul.
There is a sharpness in my breath that is stabbing my lungs.
I am exhaustion.
Monotony neatly packed in social media feeds.
Unable to breathe as my beliefs are slammed back against the wooden boats.
The New World just never seemed that inviting to me.
I want to remember the Old World, with the old gods, not the new.
I want more colors and flavors in my eyes.
Instead of the bland mashed potatoes of colonialism.
Show me a sidewalk painted with textiles in a minimalist style.
Matched with sky-scrapping buildings draped in kente.
A virtual assistant that understands what I say.
‘Ok, Google.’ Show me how to make my grandma’s pound cake.
Google: “Here’s a recipe, if in doubt ask your grandmama.”
I fell into a garden of flowers.
And my skin melted into a softness.
Exposing tendons and symetrical structures of bone.
I laid there,
Being absorbed into something greater than me.
There was a panic
As I fought and struggled,
My spine snapped, exposing malliable tissue.
My claws and fangs bored holes so big
They swallowed the radiating light being cast from the flowers that surrounded me.
Snarling as the vines tried to repair my broken spine.
My fangs struck, tearing petals and the remainder of my skin.
Pieces of me flew into the air
Cascading with leaves and stems.
The vines tugged at my frame and I was unable to move.
Frozen, I felt a calm come over me.
My eyes filled with tears as flowers began to grow out me.
I think we are better
than our athleticism
and our ability to create fads.
I have loved more often than I have taken full breaths.
The caverns of my heart that are left
Predating hints of depression that I ward off using the leftover vapors
from tears of pass lovers.
Hiding under the covers with others
To escape responsibility.
Which vice shall I indulge in this time?
The bottle whispers to me when I’m faced with rejection.
It seems that pouring my heart into a shot glass is too much for some women.
They don’t like it straight.
So I pretend to be uninterested on dates.
I have to create the ruse that I have someone else to fallback on.
This is exhausting.
I’ve grown use to being the vacation.
Rarely am I the destination.
Impurities trickle down my neck
As I wonder how I can hold her interest.
The bridge doesn’t easily connect.
As I breathe in her lust.
My lungs begin to fill with regret.
My mind is sleepless
As I rest between the creases of what it is I like about you.
Subtle notes of lavender fill my senses
As we commence to go out on dates in lands to us that are unfamiliar.
Our words and laughter are unfiltered as I exhale into my cup of coffee.
Placing a hand on your leg as you speak our future into existence.
Planting seeds of fortune into my remembrance.
Stitching cloths together from two different tribes.
Painting each others faces with kisses.
Submerging ourselves into each other’s existence.
I miss seeing you exhale in layers.
Painting my skin with every breath you release.
You are the combination of every sweet flavor,
I have ever tasted.
Sticking to the roof of my mouth,
Like a Now and Later.
The equivalent of twisting two Starburst together.
Like the way we twist words that are clever.
Trading humor like Pokemon cards.
You’re the holographic I have been searching for.
I am the vacation.
Not so much the destination,
As I am visited when the leaves have fallen and the trees stand bare.
When the chilled words of winter leave the lips of your lovers.
It is me that you come to when the nights grow long and cold.
My covers are where you find refuge.
And like a shelter I take you in without question.
You hang your coat on my branches and absorb the warmth that I offer.
You water me with intensity and my leaves grow.
Creating a canopy that shields you from the troubles you turn a blind eye to.
I am the rain forest and you’re just a surveyor that was curious of my beauty.
You’ll order bulldozers to destroy me within a fortnight.