carve numerations, calculations into memories of a better time

i want a means to believe,
something other than this 
camp-tshirt-green grass
and this fanfiction-blue sky.

because this is not enough,
with the thrill of the chase
and veins pumped full of adrenaline.
drugs wear off. they do.

i want...
i want a sky that's full of
burned out stars
because they represent our
failed wishes.

i want...
i want grass that is a dark earthy color
like green copper
and that shade that's found on the underside of bark.

i want all of the little things
that no one seems to notice,
like that third step that always creaks
and the one crease in your skin that crinkles when you smile.

i want days that are made
of tesseract-blue material 
stitched into the fabric of time,
and blood the color of the splotches on your cheeks when you cry.

because my world
is a series of events
in this ever-turning, ever-changing
rotating blue globe.

and if i cannot sketch the contours
of the personalities of a hundred faces
and capture an image in words,
you can be damn sure that i'll try.

i am an incorrigible Contrary Mary,
with my sparrows from To Kill A Mockingbird,
and a heart the size of a split pea.
and guess what?

my brain is about the size of your heart.

The End

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