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