毎日毎日

on the planet where only i live,
there is blue outside and it is vast and infinite
the palms are tall and boundless
and at dawn i think i can see venus offering me her warmth

every day i turn my antennae toward the warm and forever sun,
so that i may hear everything you have to say
the collective thoughts of animals just like me,
in perfect unity, somewhere far far away
i sing my memories to the stars,
and in return, you hum your own
through the crackle of my transceiver

here there is shelter, and air, and light,
the rabbits and crows only flock and graze
and they flee when they see my approach
here, the food is boundless
and it comes in infinite rice containers,
so i warm it and eat it tepidly,
with my similarly-infinite seaweed

i think it is incorrect, or maybe selfish,
to insinuate that i am alone here

on the planet where only i live,
there are girls like me, red and blue
tall and short,
living dimensionally parallel to me.
i cannot touch you,
nor can i make out your features among the static snow
but we are always together
existing apart, but not separate
overlaying each other, existing simultaneously
in a perpetually additive color synthesis

when i hear hymns of what life must be like off of my comfortable rock,
your everyday life,
so full, so lively, taxing, but not without its pleasantries
my stomach turns, my heart ebbs and sinks
we see the same tapestry of stars,
the same infinite sky,
but i want to be happy, like you are; too.

on the planet where only i live,
mornings and evenings come and go,
we come together for what cannot truly be called ‘breakfast’ or ‘dinner’
because what is food without community, really?
we sit together, alone, combining into a mesh of stark, white light
and together, alone, we eat from the same dish, mourning amongst ourselves.
a life that was never here

her arms are thin and frail, like mine
and like us, she has a weak stomach

but red’s fiery resolve inspires us
and blue’s esoteric whispers lull us to sleep
and maybe, bathed in radiant shades of lime,
it is my keenness that keeps us afloat

but,
even i am getting tired of rice

i see you everywhere i look

i'm sorry you aren't enough

on friday,
red screams as sobs rack through her
ichor flows from her legs and her chest
she painfully grieves an innocence that has been lost
that i think, maybe, i must still have
blue cannot hold her
but she stands solemn
like an obelisk against the unchanging sky, holding space

on saturday,
saltwater dribbles down my cheeks and trickles into the grass
i have seen vast and unending jungles,
finite and yet never fully known
there is still so much i yearn to feel.
the warmth of skin, the taste of company
blue cannot hold me
but she stands solemn
offering me her quiet, looming presence
holding space

on sunday,
blue will not let the tears leave her eyes
but she trembles, worrying
about a distant star, a goddess, maybe
she wants to braid her hair, to cup her cheeks in her palms, to sing to her
but on this rock, where there are trees and grass and sunlight and blue skies,
there is only her
we cannot hold her.
we cannot braid her hair,
or cup her cheeks,
or sing to her,
or hold her close, letting our weight reassure her
but we stand, warmly
letting cyan and yellow and magenta interweave into the gentle fibers of her intangible form
my hands cannot find purchase on anyone's skin
her sobbing chest does not tremble against mine
there is nothing, no body, to shelter me from the coming wind
i don’t feel anything

my heart is a little fuller, though

on the planet where only i live,
i wait to go home,
to tangle my fingers between ones just like them instead of grass
to run and laugh and scream and cry and love without giving out
to feel fear and anger and mirth,
and i stand,
holding space