confidant

are you listening? what’s happening? do you feel anything? did you always have that tsunami building up inside of you or was that something you swallowed on your own? does it hurt? what’s it do? can i try?

was i drifting through the cosmos before i fell into your orbit? I don’t feel like a moon to your planet. more like two suns circling each other. do you feel that? tell me you feel that. are we the same person? can you see me past the arterial spray inside of my head? am i a real person? tell me i’m a real person.

are we scared yet? what’s the temperature like inside your chest today? is it cold in there? do you feel real? can you read me from over there? is it raining where you are? do you feel me? is the hole in your heart hemorrhaging indigo the same way mine is? how do you feel today?

is home somewhere you can go or is it something you’ve been trying to get back from headstones that smell like sugar cookies at Christmas and root beer in late summer? they say it’s where the heart is. why does my home taste like marijuana smoke leaking past lips in the dim glow of street lights and suburban wind screaming through open car windows at midnight? have i been throwing rocks against the glass walls inside my head again?