another apollo

there is something inside me,

i say this a lot.

i say this so much it's grown into its own

small world, its own small sea of love

that i wade into on the worst of nights.

but i'm the sun, i say, i don't see the ocean from where i live.

i mean, i see everything. i see it all.

there is something inside me,

and it's loud and victorious and it doesn't know what i mean

when i say i've had a bad day. when i don't sleep enough.

when i don't say the right thing to anyone, when i stutter over 

rocks and boulders and the currents that find themselves in the atmosphere.

i walk down city streets and there are stares. i'm too bright, i know.

 

what is it. i shoot my guns, my arrows, my streams of typed out 

times new roman size 12 children and they run back to me, dancing.

they've been born only to be thrown at something, and so when this is done,

they have the rest of life to be free with.

i say, icarus, come and reach me,

knowing fully well i'm going to hurt him. 

disgusting, i know, but the sun is untouchable for a reason.

i tell myself someone will pass the test, flying colors,

song tunes in my head and the girls on the sidewalks snarkily grinning 

my way, someone will get straight a's and i'll let them brush those finger

tips all over my goddamn chest. 

but everyone gets burned!

and wars are started, girls are frowning,

men are wading into the pool with me, hoping they'll get through,

some way, somehow!

i dart my corvette in between the clouds, in between

the strikes of thunder.

i let icarus try again, i let his father mourn the action.

a great feeling, in there somewhere, i hate to admit it,

but i want the attention.

 

i pick up roses just to do it.

i burn down my old homes, just to do it.

i say, i despise you, and there's something in me that's satisfied,

even though it really hurt. it did. i did it just to do it.

and i sing when no one's watching, i write when no one's there.

i play the piano so you'll think i'm interesting. 

slip dress, no words for me.

does the sun know it's burning?

can the sun create a mirror to look into,

to be aware of itself?

if only she knew, they say.

what do i need to know, i snarl,

you're the ones running in circles around me.

i want the battles, the muses licking stripes down my neck.

i want it all. ah, my closest friend says, 

your ambition complex.

well, yes.

i don't see what's so bad about it.

infrared buzzing off the panes of my sunglasses.

infrared curling its way around my heart.

i'm all for it.

the god of diseases, too.

pride is one of the best of them. one of the most appealing.

it's hot outside and i get a little too excited.

i laugh at erato, it's a bit mean. 

i don't mean to pick favorites.

riptide swirling around my toes and their battered skin.

ha, i say. you're going to dry out, when i get up there.

is there something past the sun? past the stars? behind that, even?

i'm going to find it, i say,

and i dance and dance and dance, i turn on the music

and i turn it into something victorious, 

don't even try to understand,

i'll burn you alive.

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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