LAST WEEK

SUNDAY

I can feel my heart beat in my knees

It fills
in the silences between
your fingers tapping
out sentences on the keyboard

This silence of your computer’s drone
is almost worse then
the itch of creation
in my fingers

I want to let all of this out

The characters are screaming
without words
for me to
let them have action

But I coop them up
behind this borrowed sweater
until I get
to the room
I call my own and create
silence with my own keys

I want to do that
now, here, when
I am not alone,
While they are
Still hot
inside of me

MONDAY

Tonight my heart is beating in my ear

I can barely
hear the words you speak,
this rhythmic pulsing in
my head won’t, can’t
let me think

If I think we will
stop
and everyone else will
begin to demand
their own stories to be told
with words that are different
then the beats in my head, which
thump out my story

Tonight we are both too tired to be anyone else

Both our heads
stop
us from being others

Mine throbs
my music, while
yours becomes too heavy,
too weak to carry others

So we fall
asleep with no one
else but ourselves
wrapped in each others’
limbs, tangled in someone else’s sheets

We are only visitors
in the life we have
now trying desperately to not
return and make this stay permanent,
make this land our own and so
we cling to each other,
because neither is
ready to leave and
confront the morning

TUESDAY

My lips beat against each others

The last beating of lips until
you fall asleep
gently beside me and
it is my own fingers hitting
keys which I can’t focus
on and you are the
only character my brain wants to
focus on

the air, the lights, the flowers, the wine all seem to much for me to comprehend without you to understand them too

I’m not
sure if they even exist, if
I even exist,
one of us must be
lying the other
into existence,
forcing feelings into
our bones and meaning
into our words and emotion into our
touches and glances

But
the surprise of it was nice,
it was so unexpected
and it never
seemed unnatural, like we’ve been made,
meaning to do this for
centuries, like star light,
it was always
there we just couldn’t see it
yet

WEDNESDAY

My heart beats in my stomach

But you don’t need to worry,
it is my own
heart, there is no life, except the one
we swirl around, rotating around
each other, like
the sun and the moon
with an invisible earth

The sun is out
today, but
the world melted yesterday
and the streets were flooded
but we
both survived because it was the
full moon and she
held back the flood for us

I hope we let it flood
in Paris. Joan can
release her waters and watch how
well we hold each other
just to stay afloat
and pull ourselves to the higher
wood

We must get over the hump

When I am without
you I create
complete lives, lots of lives, lives
other people will perform before empty
people, paying to be filled

I will fill them

But you can’t
be here to see these people
become unempty.
I don’t want to
see you jealous,
I don’t want to
scare you with my filling

THURSDAY

I can feel my heart beat in my toes

It is trying
to crawl out between my toenails
and run away, leaving
just an empty body to pass these
three hours of talk of
what lies beneath words and what
they don’t mean.

This is supposed to make
my characters stronger, realer if they
don’t say what
they mean and they hide behind the
conventions I have learned.

Their actions will always
mean more than their words. So my words
mean more than their words
but all of it is
bullshit and I
just want to cry
because there isn’t enough space
to escape through my toenails.

I wanted
to change into
a skirt today because it is
so warm and my legs were feeling
claustrophobic and it didn’t matter
that I hadn’t shaved. But
I knew it would get colder later, like I knew
I would have to spend
three hours in hell and I knew
you couldn’t take it
when I finally got home and we
must resist
because I forgot and this whole
thing could be a test maybe
from your god or a competition between our gods,
either way we must pass because
the punishment is disguised
as a brilliant little girl with
golden hair and pale eyes.

But she would kill
us. That is what the devil
really looks like. She
would take us from each other and stop us
from sleeping at night.
My characters would start
to sound younger,
not older and my breasts would sag.

The test ends
soon, as the city begins
to warm and be freezing in the same day and
confuse all these people. When
the test is over
we will warm each other and it
won’t matter if you’re tired,
my head hurts and we’ll
embrace the disappearance of conceptual time
and every moment will exist in the same instant.

When that happens I’ll
be more than just me and finally
understand all the other people in my head
have voices and desires
and stories which are told with words that
are real and not misunderstood even if
they are lies.

FRIDAY

I can’t feel my heart beat.

I woke up late and it was
raining. I wanted to pretend
the shower was what it felt like outside, but
that was a lie.

You didn’t even
move when I untangled myself from
your arms, that’s a first.
It was nice watching you try
to find me in the empty space in your bed. That’s
how I fell in love with you today.

You did wake
up and make me
coffee while I was still
in your towel. I can’t stand
the metal lip of your carry mug.

I wish I could
control time on days like
this. Each minute held its presence
here at work, but in your bed they
always seem to belong to that
lost place called past.

You are my
future. I know that in my beatless body.
Maybe I can
borrow your heart for a while? If you don’t
mind. I can’t create
a heart beat. I can only
create shells of lives. Can you fill them
all with beats?

You didn’t take
a hint tonight, I suppose
for you the test is still
underway, you’re a stronger person than I
am, that’s why you’re the knight.

SATURDAY

I can feel my heart beat in my eyes

They can’t
take the pressure and
they tear up
and the water freezes on
my cheeks as I walk
down the street.

Maybe I’ve finally found the way
out, slowly dripping
out bit by salty
bit falling from my open
eyes.

One of us had to
leave because there wasn’t
enough space for all of us in here
and the others don’t
have a place to call home
away from this interior

But
I do.
I am of the lucky
few who have found somewhere
else to call home, so
it doesn’t matter
what happens to this body,
but I hope
my characters do not abuse it
too much,
it has been called pretty before.