i'm losing myself in your exquisite sorrow

Close your eyes.

Can you see it? 

I'm 12.

I'm buzzing.

I'm jumping off my mother's porch onto the trampoline we got for Christmas.
Razor wire and gunpowder in my stomach as I fly.
I'm thinking of you, but in new ways.
Bursting with diaphonic light.
Sweating you through every pore. Jet stream flying behind my spindly limbs. 

You never warned me about the dark, so I didn't think to fear it.
Terminal velocity, forming sentences I had never spoken, wishing in numbers and codes, garbled secrets in the woods.
You never warned me, but I shouldn't have needed it.
Before I knew it, I was in an empty room with glass walls, face down on a carpet screaming, 

"Break me. Break me. Force me into nonexistence."

Scene cut.
So sudden you don't even notice.
We are in my backyard again.
I'm 12.
I’m wearing your rictus.
I'm dripping in your words.
They are melting my skin, trailing behind me, an iridescent plume.
My eyes are smoke.
I'm jumping off my porch and onto the trampoline of your soul.


No, not your soul… the thing behind it. It's not bouncy.

I break through and tumble

tumble

tumble

tumble.

Regardez la petite abeille,

volant autour, pleurant vers le ciel de frustration,

pleurant le passage de la journée!

Il demande grâce,

mais reçoit la peine capitale à la place.