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i asked you how the weather was
and you said; "personifying."
because it was cold and gray,
and that's how you were feeling.

in the middle of fall you
you carved a tree out of wood.
everyone was turning their heads.
it was horrifying and you knew it,
but it didn't matter, you just turned it upside down.

mud all over the ceiling and your head covered in blankets-
they asked you how you could live in such a way,
you replied; "it's rejuvenating."
because the energy you lost would rickashay
all around the room, and maybe
even sink inside of you.

your mother seeking comfort, you leave the house.
door ajar, our mouths gaping.
your bike had no chain but that's okay;
you just ran down the street.

i asked you where we were going
and you said; "nowhere."
eyes closed, you spin around with your fist clenched.
standing still, head tilted-
your pointing to anywhere.

the cities bright and everyone's pacing,
your eyes reflect, but never absorb.
surviving on stolen air, i can hear your shallow breathing,
feel your grasp loosen around my reddened wrist.

our shoes untied, we searched for a place to sleep.
i looked over my shoulder and you said;
"that's fine with me."