He’s got that sharp-claw soul-gripping turned stomach type of anxiety dripping down in
his rib bones kind of fidgeting on the edge of his chair and is it the coffee or the
hashbrowns turning upside down?
You need twelve hugs a day to grow and he’s gotten one this week, someone drunk, head on his
chest tucked under his chin- he wants those arms around his waist again and the person didn’t
even matter.
Turning his class ring around his finger three times and thinking of time turners, thinking
of that pretty girl who’s enough of a communist to make him nervous
His shoulder clicks if he lifts his arm above his head.
Nerves on top of nerves on top of that guillotine feeling walking into class haven’t done
all your homework in a week haven’t been on time yet this term
Turn up the collar and your denim jacket, tuck your chin in, and walk too fast for your friends on
some days and too slow to not worry about it on others.
So he feels that lead in his veins and knot in his throat wishes that driving tempo
tattooed on his heart would just stop or at least fermata, wishes he has drumsticks in
his hands instead of letting them shake folded on his thighs
He didn’t think he’d ever be the type of person to fall asleep delicately holding a book of
Brazilian poetry, having needed something to calm himself, frigid, afternoon-dreaming
of legs tangled into his own.
Got that don’t eat don’t eat chant because America and deep fried and you’d think if
you didn’t eat you’d at least not be nauseous or maybe even like yourself- that’s an
eating disorder that’s bad don’t do that-
So he smooths his finely tremoring hands over soft black sweatpants to stand square and straight and tall and tries the whole
“Breathe deep baby that flight response won’t last forever it’s okay.”
here come here sit on this bridge with me how’s this picture, wish I could paint that pink light
on the water but it’s always moving and I can’t catch up and I miss the way I would look at the
sight of that golden blonde face of yours, apollo, road to el dorado men, miss your dimples and
your eyes and yeah that’s why I’m on this bridge
in pink light
streetlights
still nervous when I think of you