pieces

sometimes that tearing seemed rigid &
sharp.
the cheek-up turns settled in unison,
but the weariness hung.

but then come the eye crinkles,
the ones that mean
nothing else matters &
maybe you'll be free.

& the lightest is when they somehow
find that they could
join to make it more
complete.

the binarie(s)

the white and black in me says that i have to believe in dualities

with the harrowing black & the joyful 

white.

but that leaves me to 

fall into the blindness of 

light

& the blindest of 

dark.

wouldn’t it make be brighter to live in the fluid?

& recognize the waves & flows & winds & bends mean real

reality?

harsh could be softer & joyful less cloudy & maybe we could be less easy to

rock.

the spins of my days where decks take water 

&

the whirl of days where lifeboats sink...

those led me to think that i’d be safer 

should i just live in the 

gray.

instead of being hated or loved

instead of depressed or manic

instead of powerless or unstoppable i

would first just 

be

me.