My response to that new love of yours.

swinging from the limbs of insanity while crossing fingers, toes and eyes in hopes of anything beyond ... well, anything. this stupid title still follows me around, still yapping at my heels without the tiniest clue that
                                               i
                                                    can't
                                                              even
                                                                        feel
                                                                                  you
                                                                                       anymore.
you are my ghost limb. every time i reach out to scratch that itch in the palm of my left hand, there is no fucking hand. my bastard shoulder. my twice cracked rib.
all of my best thoughts are always so magically erased.
who was i to think that any one thing could ever travel that far without becoming mere dust to sit around and cling to shelves, to add to your allergies and send you screaming and sneezing out my back door? I mean, just imagine how many things fell
              alll
                           the
                                          way
                                                                   a
                                                             p
                                                       a
                                                           r
                                                                 t
in a last ditch attempt at traveling through time and space. whole spaceships become specks of falling dust that we just inhale and exhale without even noticing. imagine my flesh hurled just the same distance, at just the same speed and aimed right at you, darling. right in your direction. no dust. no specs. no allergies. just memories and the tic marks that you found on the inside of my skull that counted the days. the hours. the minutes. the seconds in between.
so here's to knowing that i know the feeling of that feeling creeping it's way up my spine and into my spinal column where it swells and squeezes feeling like nail biting nervousness on that same damn left hand. here's to thinking that you could ever toss anything other than heart through tangled cords all the way through the cities, past the border patrol and right into your empty living room.
can't catch your breath?
here's a paper bag.
now i know that shooting for the moon is a mere waste of time. from now on i'm aiming much closer. next door neighbors and say, the ten yard line. as a matter of fact, i'm throwing away all of my stupid scopes ... tomorrow. i'll do that tomorrow. what's the point in aim when the barrel's so bent out of shape anyway? besides, soy beans and corn cobs require no guns. they just, give of themselves naturally.
me, you and your girlfriend makes three.

note to self: stick to simplicity. remember all of those foreign quotes that you stockpile in your brain and if all else fails, just cliche' it to death. smack it dead with the truth and give it names that feel like clairty, like decision written right on top of your heart. harsh realities are simply amazing stories of truth and submission when it's all said and done.

rationally speaking, my side reaks of insecurities and nearly two hundred different ways of saying hey, i like you like this. yours... well, there's sunshine and gold. things that sparkle in the sun 
yes
like edward
(let's pretend that's only half as lame as it really is)
but damn baby, that's beautiful.
little did you know, i had dreams where i clung to you like celephane if celephane were a human being. i dangled from the branches of your mind with my monkey toes and my non existent tail while you told stories about jesus and a life with meaning.
a sticky note with nothing but teeth right above my pillows
i dunno dear
just something that someone drew.

at least now i have something to say, right?
just...not to you. not right now.
just...hand me a minute, to think.
it's somewhere in that package of big squares and mushy little triangles. gotta find some where, some way to spend my time
and i'm sure i will
some way
some how
but she breathes champagne
and she puts me to shame
even on my best days.