Poem

Just an ounce of information purged itself from between your thumbs.

It's exhausting, pretending to not give a shit when I give it all at once.

Sometimes it hits at a moment's notice and at other times I'm expecting it when it comes-

it knocks me backwards in time and I rely solely on the reality of things to pull the wool over my own eyes. 

I'm homesick for a home I do not own and for a place I've never really been, but then there are senses that knock together-my knees which rock and run until they ache, wait to get to you somehow. 

I'm no longer afraid of night as she sweeps herself over the lampposts to put out their light in spite of my return home. 

I follow my shadow uphill and watch her run ahead of me to say that I'm lagging in some great way.

Go! Hurry! Get indoors! 

Alex, Dim, Lodger, and Tramp could find me in the dark and do the harmful magic they did onscreen. 

It slows my gait, could I really get away? Probably not, but I like to rest in your bed and think that perhaps I could. 

What if your mind is misting over and I'm being left behind? 

I want only the best and somehow dollar bills taunt me with you on the end of the stick.

"Walk on" they say to me, a grasp and a kick away.

Your short story carried one period, and then I weighted and felt bad for your lonesome. 

Some people probably think you're the greatest, the bravest, but you're just the greatest pretender to me. 

Probably, you think I'm just so taken by the spritzing glory of your presence, and I am, in a different kind of way.

I'm taken and thrust against the wall, pinned, stuck, angry, agape. 

Somehow, there was hopelessness in your words, an undercover warning, that maybe you knew only I would understand. 

I am no longer awake here, I should have told you really how it is.

I'm in need of your lifting companionship that never chained me down despite it all. 

Love is not the word anymore, perhaps you've made me someone that I'm not in touch with yet.

I am in debt to you, that's not in love with you.

Simply, there's no way to console the gap in my chest unless you're the doctor who bandages me up.

I'm okay for now, but the sooner the better.

I in debt you.