Fossil Fueled

Everyone else rubbed UV protectant onto skin,

flirted shoulders with oncoming traffic and the wind 


while he walked to Prospect Park with suicide

note and kerosene, giving himself back to the earth.


There are days I think about setting my scars on fire

to see what new shape I might melt into.


There are days I grow numb trying to understand how

far down the trees' roots go or why letters in an alphabet 


like LGBTQ make people so angry. Just yesterday, I breathed in

eight million skin cells and the secret messages of squirrels.


Everyone seems to be on a diet of hate these days; I just want

to get through a day where tongues tie us into love letters not

tombstones.