Overture

I am now a member
       of an endangered species;

And I fly above,
circus clouds,
basking in the far flung shadows of
trapeze artists

as if I could steal their grace
and twist and
  u
t    r
  n
and grasp onto ideas,
And I am a member,
of those who sit and think

and think
yet never look before they leap
never quite reach the swing
(I’d be a terrible trapeze artist)

Maybe I’m a member of the dragons,
who belch flames
(or play with lighters
one or the other)

Maybe I spray kerosene into the air
and light matches off of the
s
i
d        of my throat.
e

I think maybe one day I’d like to join a circus;
but for now,

maybe I’ll just play
with sock puppets.

(let me think about it)

for dummies

i faked it,
if you couldn’t tell.

the times when yousaid,
“i’m upset,”
after all you’d s
                           c
                             r
                           a
                            m
                            b
                              l
                             e    p
                            d    u 

my emotions andplayed them off as yours,
I faked being uncaring, (i’m not her)
i pressed [delete] on my consoling touch [type]
i pressed [x] on the windows of my eyes

didn’t you see the grey circle

next to
my name?(

it means offline,
you were never any good with com[munication]puters

)you laughed;

i faked being
stoic and i 
r a n

                                                                                                                          far away

I’m pretty good at running from [you] my emotions.

The thing is:

she’s not you’re not,
web designers,

but your spidering code traps me. (
drama, drama, drama)

[don’t] let me go,

please.

perhaps

And they sparkle, and they glimmer,
jewels adorning the neck of a princess,
cold cut and hard rock,
maybe they’re plastic,
because she likes her rings fake.

she likes pretending that she’s trapped,

maybe she’s me,

maybe i’m writing about myself
(passive aggressive-passive-passive-passive)

or maybe i’m writing about nobody,
maybe fairytales are just

mushrooms circling damp dirt,

maybe the princess never found the pea,
maybe i never found purpose.

on purpose.

dilithium crystals

i used to pretend that i was kirk
maybe you were bones
(skin and bones, your mom used to say)
but you weren’t really a doctor,
not really.

we used to play flying,
f l y i n g,
a space craft made of s p a c e
a gear stick in the form of
your hand mine
holding

now,
I think I’m probably more
engineer olson,
stupid and reckless,
(why don’t I pull the shoot)
spock,
calm and logical and
furious.

But you’re still bones.

You still kind of patch me up.

You still kind of make me think I’m Kirk.

Brave, [aye captain] determined, “still stupid, kid.”

(i’m off in the stars)