Crying

By Line Dry Only

the mind is a maze with high hedges and volatile weather
can you move the world by blinking?
if your lashes cross oxygen gas?
she doesn't know there are
strawberry moons in her eyes

she is the epitome of every image you've ever seen
the world tasted by her hair and flesh
hairs are piles of dead skin cells forming colored strings
skin is made up of cells that pile on your muscles
and your muscles pile on your bones
the bones pile on your heart
your heart is the weight of your soul

wait on your sole
tapping your foot
you hear music
your brain hears math
your fingers hear magic

breathe the correlating amnesties
touching rasberries blooming
explode onto the walking pavement
blank and eggshell, don't you break it

strange the speaker and phone with volume
page the burner, she is on fire
pills in her mouth every night
when her eyes turn from blue to scarlet
and the ink on the page runs away with the paper she invented

bring a torch, and light the books
burning is her only constant
evolving, revolving, estranged
pick out the word that doesn't fit with the rest
like she fits with microphones
like she fits with the stage
like she fits in cars,with seatbelts making sure she doesn't die on the way home

give me two blocks
and a mile of rope
made out of grass and hair
she will become the page
and the colors will run onto her lips
rainbow-light and never-ending ties
links in the hallways of her finger-crossed face

bring on the photos
for the girl who is the glue