On the rim,

Of red rock canyons.

Above a stomach curdling drop,

Into a bed of sharp rock.

Below the bright blue,

Sun stamped sky.

These colors will be

The last I see.

My wish will be granted.

I can already feel,

The snap of my knees.

I can already hear,

The wet crack of my skull.

I already see my blood,

Painting red on red.

Feel to the cool shade of death,

Replace the hot dread of life.

My wish will be granted.

But I don’t understand,

Why my knees wobble,

As I shuffle closer.

Why my brain hums,

As the end creeps closer.

My breath draws ragged.

Dragging my eyes back,

Up to the sky,

The sun on my cheeks.

I blindly,

Step forward.

My wish was to fly.

But my wish was not granted.

Five —Heartbeats Stopping

Four —Carseats Unbuckled

Three —Bodies Breaking

Two —Parents Bleeding

One —Baby

Not breathing

The crinkle of plastic wrap

Torn off a frozen pizza

The blue light flickering

From a high school

Football game

The beep of a microwave

Warming a bleeding heart

Frozen and wrapped up

Tight

Just as tasteless and freezer-burned

As the pizza

My body is warm

But my fingers are cold

Typing warms them

But only a little

Dehydrated flowers rest

On my desk

Music blares

Slow and tired

Straight into my ears

Whispering the messages

My heart left behind

But now my heart is

Warm

The microwave beeps

A morse code

Calling me

And at the table

My heart before me

Cold fingers dig in

And serrated teeth

Bite

Red sauce runs

Down my chin

And leaves my body

Cold

A vast meadow shudders in the breeze

With a brilliance born from the first green of spring

My bare feet soak warmth from the earth

While a massive cherry tree

All pink blossoms

Waves

Beckoning

In the sighing wind

To step

To pull

To fall

Shackled to a mountains gloom

I strain to move

But I am locked in

Free only by the length of my chain

Birds squeak a song

So high above I cannot see

So I lay among the weeds

And hope to spot a glance

Of a single feathers’ dance

I raise a hand into the fading sky

To the birds I cannot see

And the tree I cannot reach

“It’s her cells, darling,

Her cells have become—well—

They’ve changed

They don’t work like they should.”

Cassandra didn’t quite understand

But no five year old ever really did.

“Cancer” was as mysterious

As the boogeyman

As frightening as skeletons

In the dark as the

Skeleton’s smiling hopelessly hopeful

From hospital bed sheets.

“What are cells, mama?”

Cassandra frowned, hands tucked,

Squeezing, into the fur

Of her stuffed polar bear.

“Cells they’re—” mama sucked on her

Coffee stained teeth.

“They’re the little things

inside, in our blood, they—”

Mama didn’t really know much

About cells or cancer, but

She knew the point and Cassandra

Did too.

Lucy was dying.

And Cassandra was pretending

That she didn’t know.

But it made mama sad

And Cassandra wanted a smile

“Her blood is sick?” She said, looking up

With a sound conclusion that

Made sense and no sense at

All

Cassandra thought for a moment more

“Or is her blood is broken.” Nodding

To herself, she grinned,

“Mama,” she seized her hand,

“We need a—” her mouth halted,

Searching for the word,

“a mechanic.”

You killed it

I killed it

When we hung up the

Phone.

You were rose tea

Sweet with honey

A comfort when life

Grew cold.

It’s cold now

But there is no

Comfort.

Only a hazy black

Covering you.

Now, coffee grinds

Thrice used

But not by me

You are not my tea

My caffeine

My comfort

And I am not—

What was I to begin with?

Just someone who needed

You.

Just someone you didn’t

Need.

Just someone who cries for

No one.

And

Everyone.

But mostly for you.

And now, you and I,

We killed it,

We filled the kettle

With glass shards

Filled the flowery mugs

With snake skins.

And the house

With sticky honey

So the ants will come

And like me,

Sink and die

In the sugar tar pit

You left

On the carpet.

I was yours

But,

You weren’t mine.

I

still keep the tea leaves and mug that you

Love

And wait for the rumble of your car as

You

Drive up. I wish that maybe you

Still

Think of me.

As I think, weep, and wait

For you.

We killed it

But,

Maybe someday

We

Will fix it

Can’t

We make it new?

Recreate it.

Our love

Is not

Dead,

Dead,

Is not

Our love?

I’ve thought of a world. Where magic ruled. Where pixie dust—shimmers—gold, in air. Not this smog red smoke. No. I’ve dreamed of a place. Where hearts are united. In an effort. In a reward—a good clean triumph. Of darkness. Not this discord. The terrible hate. Spread. Nationwide. More powerful, toxic, damaging, than any virus. No. I’ve dreamt of a world. Where right and wrong were black and white. Where we didn’t live colorblind. In a seeping grey. Colorblind in all the wrong ways. Where differences were celebrated. Cultures and peoples treasured. A world where evil was one person. And it lived somewhere else, not in us. I wish I could create this place. Where dragons ellipsed the sun. Where quests forged youths. Into warriors. Where wounds healed. With just a sip of glowing potion. But no. Just a plane. Just a drive to the superstore. Just a pill. Another pill. Another pill. Swallowed down. With a sip of poison. Just an addiction. Addiction to adventure. That doesn’t exist. To a feeling. That does not enrich. A hope. That can never. Be filled.

I imagined a place. Where we all belong.

Free to be.

But no.

It was all is just

A fantasy.

I worked all day

To end up with nothing

Done

I’m done

How am I done

I haven’t done

Anything

Work work work

Get get get

Nothing but

This ache

In my head

None of it

Was enough

And now

I am (not)

Done

If I could fly

I'd traverse the Pacific

Bundle up against the cold

Hungry winds

So not an inch of warm

Seeps through

If I could fly

I'd never land

Not for food or rest

Well

Maybe for a bathroom break

Or two

But no

If I could fly

I'd move so fast

With a trail of supersonic boom

Slammed behind

I'd pack in all my joy

My laughs and hope

And I'd bring them all

To you

There was something funny about all this. About being stabbed in the back. With a pencil no less. I mean, it didn't hurt, not too back at least. But dang. I didn't see it coming. One minute we were laughing, just stumbling to the convenience store in a late-night conquest for more Bud Lights, watching the sallow green grass bend in the breeze. The party of strangers at my house was still booming with music I didn't enjoy, but I enjoyed you. Our journey. A little escape from social charades. I grinned and you grinned too. That's about when you stabbed me. The lead pinched through my old cotton T, breaking into the soft skin stretched over my spine. I jumped, not with pain, but shock and I peered at you with new eyes. I'd been played. You were no friend. Just another guy with a padlocked soul. Playing social charades. And I a spent candle with the wick snapped away.