Facebook: pinky toe (you feel like it’s mandatory and it would be difficult to cut it off but once it’s gone you don’t miss it too much)

Tumblr: brain (an embodiment of the inside of my skull)

Goodreads: heart and lungs (keeps me going)

The sun carves canyons down your arms. (It’s funny how closely your skin resembles mine from this distance). And your eyes twitch reflexively with the deep murmurs of an interrupted slumber. (It’s funny how our hair is nearly identical in hue and texture). Asleep I remember you as I recall the tunes from far off lullabies; peaceful and familiar to me. 

But I see your purple pockets of under eye flesh. The burst vessels in your cocaine white eyes (that look so much like my own). The small changes that tell me I know you not.

What happened last night?

When I saw you, there was no light left in those eyes.

What happened to you?

When you closed the door and promised me you’d be fine

What happened?

My friend. My twin. My bruised and battered sister. 

Can you ever forgive me?

For not stopping you. 

Can I tell you a secret?

I’ve never had a friend before.

and I suppose I never will. 

To where people are translucent. If we scrape off the pretentious skin and douse us in a pot of boiling water we don’t all come up smelling so sweet. I may have a sharp tongue but it’s your flesh that is too soft. Overripe images pass in mists, condensing gently on my fingertips as I flip through the recipes of personalities. Is it overripe of me to contribute poetry? Perhaps I am just being bitter. I simply want to be picked! Even when I feel as the rambutan must (rare and special to some extent) I find myself tossed in a salad with specimens even more exotic than I. So what if I am just low hanging fruit? I am secure in myself and am feeling mighty vine. And if you are apeeling than maybe we should bunch together. I really fancy your green tinged (fruc)toes post lawn mowing. 

Oh but what a sour lemon am I! 

Cilly Citron cpoiling away in this old refrigerator 

(but still my heart beets for you) 

I want to capture the world. To hold it in my cupped palms and turn it over until it is worn smooth. I will accept the edges with reluctance and let them slice my flesh as I rotate universes. I want to enslave the people. To line them up and shake them one by one screaming; WAKE UP! WAKE UP! YOU HAVE FREE WILL! And send them on their way. I want to create propaganda. Of kind faces and fragrant meals. Of green pastures and moroccan marketplaces. Of eyes and hands and mouths and elbows. I want to stop time. And have everyone sit. And breathe. And think. Together. But not as one. 

I want order

I want chaos

I want them to choose to live the way I want them to

I want cognition

I want peace dammit. 

And I am prepared to go to war to get it. 

that I should speak slowly and clearly

so that others can understand me

but that’s bullshit.

If everyone can understand me 

then I have said nothing worthwhile 

I think I sit not for me but for those like me. And not in the way that one would sit upon a park bench on a bloated spring morning but rather in the way that one sits upon a wooden chair on a linoleum floor. I sit because those before me could not. Or would not. (They may have had the choice, of course, but having the choice doesn’t always mean you will choose to decide). I sit because my tendons contract and my joints pivot. Mechanically speaking, I sit because I can no longer stand. Standing always seems to imply effort, respect, and poise. But is it not true that one can exude these things without standing? Therein lies the problem. I sit because there is nothing to be gained by standing. However I must have determined that standing is irrelevant because I gained nothing while upright. By that logic I would have gained everything by sitting. Regrettably this is not the case. So if I have gained more by standing than by sitting, it goes without saying that there is no purpose to my sitting. And if my sitting cannot be ascribed any significance, (assuming no action is without purpose) than it is not an action. In this way, “to sit” is no longer considered a verb. But it is also neither a noun, adverb, article, nor appositive. So then it is nothing. I am doing nothing. And if we are human, than we judge our world by the observable effects of one entity on another (i.e. we can prove the existence of unobservable particles by studying the changes in the movements of apparent particles). Since our humanity views the world in this way, and my sitting amounts to nothing, than I cannot be observed. And if I cannot be observed, all rationality reasons that I must not exist. 

And if  do not exist, than neither does this post. 

However, if you are reading these words, than it must exist. And for you to read these words, I must exist. 

So, following these lines, either we all exist.

Or none of us do.