there are no rules here.
no manners.
we are all just mashing habits together
and calling it "life."
just walking into each others houses and
letting pieces of us fall to the floor. To see what
the others would pick up.
What of me is of value to you?
Do I really have any emotions to spare?
Are they appropriate?
And so we bang away.
Pressing harder into each other,
trying not to be afraid.
trying to know who we are.
***
The difference between finding oneself and losing oneself
becomes indistinguishable sometimes,
at times like these when nothing stays the same.
In a state of constant flux, spinning
pieces come in and out constantly
before you can ever know what you're gaining
or letting go.
Perhaps there are times to press harder,
times to hold on tighter.
I haven't found them yet.
Love is a great betrayal
that you play on yourself,
to put out the tentacles
to reach out further.
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