homemade barometer 

give me the real axe.
salt & word-warm air. i want 
a leg without spiders inside 
or a back that doesn't barter 
for breath. i look inside 
the terrarium & ask 
"who are you who i have given
all my water?" the water chuckles.
this is a game i play with myself.
see how much pressure can fill
a lung until destruction.
i was surprised when this winter
seed pods up the street burst,
spreading their desires 
all over the sidewalk. i don't remember
how to crave, will someone come teach me.
inside my head is a machine 
that measures how much sadness 
i can ensure. i build new corredors 
each day. i eat with my fingers.
press a hole in the wall
where i'll be able to talk to 
the solitary self. "you are safe there,
don't come out." removing your hair 
from the drain i consider joining it.
becoming long & dead. the air pressure
has to find a way out somehow.
spitting cherry pits 
at the sun & hoping to make 
an escape. there is an exit side
on the back wall of my closet.
i press my back against it until
the world tilts & i'm laying down.
take me to target & buy me 
a new life. it doesn't have to be 
beautiful. i just want a lockable face.
spare teeth under the bed. 
lover with eight arms
& a mind-reading device
so he can know when i'm trying
to extinguish a good day.
taste-testing the atmosphere
i have to say it's no where near done. 
more sugar. more airplane scars.
i'm standing up again
& walking into the coat room
of someone else's heart. 
stripping down to only my socks.
i talk to you through the door.
"i just need a moment," i say.

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