Sixteen chain-messages in a row,
I might have overdone it this time.
How can I show that it’s no fun for me,
No easy crime; I feel so alone
And I can’t get to sleep
Until I know that I haven’t
Just shouted into some
Digital void, I’ve tried
To meditate and listen to Sufjan
But my mind is magnetized
To this stupid app, this endless tap
Of doubts and anxieties that I can’t
Seem to turn off.
I try to even out the load,
I have an unaware posse
Of hand-picked crisis comrades
To take on aspects of my own
Selfish weight, just enough
So they don’t feel cuffed to my ego,
This chain-gang of “mutual” sharing.
I need you but you’re in fucking France,
We do this careful dance
Around our ethically-sourced eggshells,
The ones that smell of family and economics
And the thing about me that you can’t
Quite put your finger on, at least not yet.
But you’ll find it, everybody does,
Like my self-pitying lines,
Lamenting this lack of agency
While I drown myself in a sea
Of my own making, and for what?
Where is your soothing voice,
Your hand in the back of my jeans,
The salted lips or
The breath on the back of my neck
That makes the hairs stand at attention?
You mention something about
The career optics of a working holiday visa,
And I swear I care, I really do, but
All I can think about is when
I’ll get to be the little spoon.
But that’s getting a little ahead of myself
now isn’t it?
Especially with the doubts you’re sharing
And Dylan’s Spanish Boots are blaring
And all of a sudden I’m lost now, alone,
And I don’t think you”ll ever really come home,
You’ll just prolong and prolong,
Those sad sweet love songs
Of what could have been
(It’s always easier to live in such scenes),
Meanwhile you cast off, rowing some new stream,
Sowing some new seed, I know
I’m dreaming, shrouded by jealousy,
But how far off am I really?
Are you in it for me or the aesthetic?
Sometimes I ask myself the same questions.
I know this is not your land and this is not your tongue,
I know you need a hand and I’m happy to lend you one,
Please know how proud I am of you,
This unending gratitude
For a journey I don’t think I myself could make,
A churning sea I can’t yet navigate,
And I know this lack of physicality
Is tearing you up daily and
Is tragically backed by this gap we feed
With our overbooked schedules and our
Romantic dreams of something explosive,
But it’s hard to light the fuse when you’re
Half a dozen cruises away if I left today,
And if I could stick a post stamp to my
Forehead, you know I’d be there in the morning,
Express delivery, right to your doorstep.
I wake up every day and look both sides
Just to make sure that these tides haven’t changed
That the universe hasn’t finally got this whole thing
Arranged, but no, not yet.
But I have to believe that one time I will
Rub my eyes and you won’t disappear
To consider any other option would be unfathomable,
And I can’t lose you, not again,
My lover and my friend,
Ma Cherie et ma femme,
I’ll hold you ’til the end
Of me or you or this heart’s thread,
And I know I better tread lightly,
I don’t want to tell lies or to spite me,
Because I’m terrified of your bright tees
(all the things I feel but cannot see),
Your sturdy knees while mine are knocking
On the door of a world I’m not sure I’m ready for,
Because I see a future in your eyes and I see you
Sitting by my side in a couple year’s time,
Drinking cheap wine, snuggled on
The couch, wondering if we’ll go out
To some social obligation or just stay in
And relive those first feelings, that first time
That we opened our eyes and
There you were, and there was I,
And the cosmos collided,
But we stayed silent, because to draw attention
Would pop this bubblegum perfection
So we just smiled and stayed there,
Had not a care, had nowhere to be,
Because I’d found the person sitting atop my tree
In those forever fields of strawberries sweet,
Our respective hearts caught inside
The other’s internal galaxies.