baby blue bubbles
baby blue bubbles encapsulate everything. hold the gaudy string used to thread through my lips, stitching simpers into princess-ness. how we smile in veins: little child, your cheeks are adorned with blood and a heart stitched helter-skelter messy / messily closed; oh, to be dollish and beautiful, nailmarks in moonskin limelighting.
dramatic persona of a boy donning crowns of moss / bloodied lips / dirt hands and a doll made up of love stitches, down the bodice procuring corset needles and thread along spine-ridges so easily discernible / spider legs. people are surgering me open / trying / but they can't open my mouth. i dream a light-haired boy with broken blackbird wings and loose, echoing rings.
i dream vivid gardens across rooftops, rotting overhead like green petals and you play with me in open graves and feel something missing underneath haphazard bandages, especially in a new home / insufficient, interpersonal… innocuous and inaccessible children so innately innocent. wide-eyed. i am an inanimate insentient inliving entity. incoherent.
i feel ancient sometimes, like a sycamore tree is expanding inside of me. you place your hand atop mine and we color between the lines. mending. a smile drags on my mouth, open-mouthed to tug its gossamer faintness away / please unstitch the threads behind my cheeks: child so interlaced with something far from this life.
you can't reach me anymore. but you still haunt me, and my personality malfunctions like sputtering androids with indisposed wires. me, stuttering, loose-ended under downpours, drenched… boyish blabbers hurting my ears, sterility in my earlobes. playing symphonies on my heart. i'm sorry for all these spaces / green gaits / unsent bubbles, i'm searching for you, haunted, gaunted.