Teach Me How To Fly a Plane: An Insomniac's Guide to Falling

playground piety

mother?
i'm not sorry.
one day i'll take a fight,
but until then i'll suffer the blue
and purple consequences on my legs.
well, you never said not to hit myself back.
and i think i'd like to live again, here, without you,
but we can't always be so kind with our luck.
all the things i do in a day to please you,
appease you, freeze you, string you
up on a fishing line, and
all you do is cry.
again? yeah,
i'm tired of it too.
but if i took my own and
built myself a mansion without
permission, you'd throw another fit.
but if i ask you mother may i? tell me so
that when i take apart your house of dolls, i'll
have no fear of being screamed down.
it's all i have to not destroy it now,
right now — tear it all to the
cold, barely-there
foundation,
frozen —
leave it be.
and then i would
regret it... probably. hah,
i imagine i might relish a bit first.
and who am i even talking to, anyways?
mother? are you there? or is it someone else, like
a better person than her, a physical thing with
hands, and skin above the shoulders,
and... and again, i think i'm just
speaking in more circles,
or 5-line diamonds,
or flatlines.
whatever. it's not
important to me anymore.
all i'm trying to do is speak in prose,
but i can't even do that without faking all the
tragic stuff. and then that's- hey, wait, who's here?
don't tell me what i'm faking and what i'm not — not
even i know that. i don't even think i care now.
i just can't figure out who's here with me;
whose eyes are these, whose
lies are these, whose
becomings and
beings and
so self-destructive,
uninterrupted diamond
endings. please, it's just me.
i know i'm the one with a speaking
problem but you're the one who's feeding it,
just tell me who's here and i can leave you alone.
i'll tell you again, i wish i could take a fight.
i wish it were easier for me to take
the things i can't understand
or the things that i can't
actually be given.
i still wish
my brother was
here to meet you. i think
you'd get along pretty fine. i think
it'd be better for him to ask these things
of you than it is for me, but that's another matter
altogether. he isnt here anymore, never comin back.
anyways, what was i saying? oh, that, this. what?
stop playing, i want you to know me like
i was your lover. like i was your
friend. i know you, i know
you're there. you
can come
out now and see
me — see what i've made.
i've made a new friend, a new
lover, and his cross is better than yours.
watch me go under and watch me fall asleep, see
another handful and i swear i'm singing your praise!
i take the scissors in my left hand, and every time,
it's like you're here for me to throw them at.
let's go back like we always do, sliced
at the neckline and all the
heads fall down.
bleedout,
fallout, stomp out,
leave the room. leave it,
i'll pick it up when you're gone.
i'm so tired of going on for hours, so
tired of watching my bedroom ceilings turn.
don't you know it's getting too early? you know what
i'm like when the sun comes alive, i wake up;
so you'd better come out here now while
you can still keep me taped down.
jesus, just show me your
fucking face. i get it,
okay? i know.
i'm tired of it too.
but if i took my life to
build myself a castle without
walls, you'd still find a way to tear it
down.. fuck i'm losing my mind again, Mason.
now take me to the playground and watch me swing
with a new necklace making its place known
'round my throat. tell me my mother
would kill me if she found out
what i've done with it.
mother? i said i'm
not sorry.