something like living in the moment

i've been living in the evidence

for quite a while now. it stings

my eyes with its smoky reassurance,

i just can't prove that my lungs

still oscillate around my sternum

or that my liver still sifts my blood

like sand, leaving chaf for the

winds of time that sweep us

through our all-too-brief lives

that are all-too-important to let

us take risks.

all i wanted was to ink out my

existence, no, to ink my existence

into my skin, just maybe the

evidence will prove i exist. i'm

still here. my brain pounds against

my skull but all i feel is the space

between my fingers and the

wondering that oozes through

my body, on a quest to prove i'm

no longer alive. i can sit more still

than you. so still, you'll forget

you'll forget the warm hand that

touched your face that day and

flicked away your tears.

my fingernails will keep on growing

without me and maybe i'll never

be the same. the way i once was

when the happiness was a disease

in my body, tiny virus, creeping

the corridors of my insides.

how about we bring back the

summer sun from its untimely

death and revive the winter moon

that sings us to sleep under a

flannel sky of tic-tac stars. i don't

remember the silly/beautiful words

my brain once fostered--the stillness

begs questions and tosses fear in

front of my feet like an invitation

to a tea party. won't you come and fear

for your life with us? no it's not that i

fear--open my brain and tell me if

there's anything in there at all--

it's the evidence that proves the

existence.