The Indicator x The Student: “Self Portrait As The Thing Left in the End”

In the shower, the hot water has taken time to start a revolution. I figured now is not the time to put my hands together to ask for grace. Though I wonder what could satisfy me, hear the hum from the back of my knees or sip at what gathers in my collarbones, the two of whom reported their heavyweighted waiting to the side of my neck your teeth found their way to. always. I try not to close my eyes then or call out your silhouette when asked to draw mine but i fail. i do. So i let the moon stuck between my teeth chatter till my tongue falters, only says yes in response to your silence.

says

       yes and     yesyesyes

                   yes yes  and        yes yes 

yes

yes               yes                                       yes

and no, well yes I do forgive me, also you if you ask carefully, allow your words to wiggle a bit, sprinkle twinkle in the air, and yes, then maybe yes.

Part of my yesterday involved cracking open a book, telling it to love me, then cracking it open again to see your hands come out to cover mine which made my eyes blink one two and now? my back twists to carry my falling onto the tile where i heave out your name, and the steam licks up the puddles beneath my chest. I am trying. Can you see

that you teach me loneliness even as we huddle beneath the stars. & i always. Mark that as disaster one. Two comes later. often during the times you ask who cloaks who or where/when can i finally know you. You should know now that the water told me to leave me as its heat drenched my bones. I realized now may be the time to ask myself to see.

Though I would request that you not ask me how I am doing. I can't stand the wobble my hands do when I lie to you through my spilling. how i splay my arms out like promise, like demise hiding me&i dis- miss me when its quiet, bare that silence like a crown that never stops inching down
                       down until it lands at my throat, contorts in crescent and sticks. Don't pay mind to my hollow-ed cheeks. They still stretch when you tug (gentle now) and i can laugh with a beautiful whistle now. a beautiful whistle, if you’d like to hear.