how am i supposed to explain
the way the clouds shift
to someone stuck inside
how am i possibly going to describe their glow on my cheeks
the crickets darting across my lazy eyes
how am i supposed to tell you
how the stars erupt in bleeding colour
and all the city lights seem to fade away
and it’s all so fucking beautiful, in the split second before disaster strikes
and i don’t know how to tell you
how it feels when lightning hits the ground
when the earth collapses
and the sky feels like it’s mine
arrange it in a tableau
tell it in colours, and stories
until there’s paint on my fingers
and there’s sawdust in my hair
i’ll make something
i’ll make anything
just so you know that i’m alive
i’m here
i’m breathing
in and out
and i don’t want to walk lightly
i want you to hear my name
i want it to ripple out across the constellations
i want to be known
and seen
and loved
and maybe that’s just narcissism
maybe i’m going insane
maybe i’m spinning out with gravity
drifting down toward the plain
where the crickets hum
and the grass is golden-blue
if it’s any consolation
sometimes i don’t understand me too