the time we had spent

in solidarity

was not sanctimonious

nor was it

tranquil or spiritual

or anywhere in between

Heaven and Hollywood

it was an erotic nightmare

you still haven’t completely shared

with anyone

because even though

it wasn’t precious

it is all still very

special to you.

we were strangers

when we met.

even when we were

beginning to look

a little familiar.

even when we felt

as though we might’ve done this

together before.

the greatest piece to

come out of you

wasn’t a suicide letter

and none of them

have been since

but sometimes you

wonder if they would make

more sense that way.

I remember it everyday

as if it had happened

sooner

I don’t think you have ever

SCREAMED with such

conviction of your own

turmoil;

5000 miles of June Bugs buzzing

into you

Cicadas screeching from

the trees they were all

nesting in

above you

Raccoons were licking

their claws and standing

on their hind legs

waiting for you

in sewers.

the sky was quaking

veins were bursting

in it

the nature,

albeit maddening-

nothing felt more alive

than you

SO YOU WROTE A FUCKING

SONG ABOUT IT

we were strangers

when we met

and I was petrified

when you came back.