Cleatus

there is a little man trapped in the mesh of my shoe

and

there is nothing I can do to help him

no, I am not the one

for every time I reach down too let him out the great shadow of my hand falls over him and he moans and shivers and chatters his teeth
every time I raise my foot up to a surface to let him off, he clutches at his throat and gasps for air in the altitude
every time I take my shoe off, he holds onto the agnet of my shoelace for dear life, begging his tiny grip to hold

lately, I've been investigating our options of communication
sometimes I think he is calling out to me, but even the greatest of his bellows register only as squeaks to my ears
when I whisper back, he recoils in pain and fear, pressed hard against the mesh of the toe my shoe hard from the wind coming from my mouth
it doesn't seem we'll be able to speak to each other, a shame

certainly, sign language is out of the question (I only know the signs for the letters m, n, and j (and even if his knowledge of the language were to overlap, it would be of limited value anyway))
i've tried charades, somewhat regrettably
i think we are both happy to leave that behind us

it would seem that he doesn't have much time left
i wonder what my role in his reality has been
i wonder just how many others are stuck on my shoe

In Which I Flatter Myself Via Cosmic Hyperbole

how am i to see the night sky without a thought of you

for I love you as the moon loves the sea

whenever you are away, I can only think to yearn and pull for you

and to move your tide but five inches nearer is all the vindication I could hope to have

vindication I not only hope for, but need

for I can never be closer to you

the space I pull you to is the distance I can stand

were you any closer, I would tear you apart and spread you across the world without ever meaning to 

were you any closer, I would crash into your world with a fiery trail

were you any closer, we would both be broken

and this is all we know, brutal as it is

from the first day our eyes met, it has been tragically apparent that I am but an alien to you

nothing but an interest, a toy, a quirk, a confession

I am that which you crave in the night, when I am clear and present

you are that which I can only see in my own light, for at those hours, I am all the light there is

there was a time where I truly wanted to believe that you sought my light

but I see now I am only the best available, sometimes

I am no better than you

the light I radiate is not even mine

it is light that belongs to a larger, stronger, better man

a true star

certainly, you have noticed that it is not at all in my nature to create light

you speak of another side of me

a side whose existence you are beyond assured of, despite any popular evidence

a side that you fear, for its ambiguity, darkness, and secrecy

presently, I wonder which side truly belongs to me

for the first time, I realize you are not the one that knows the answer

The First Time

The room was filled with old home videos, of childhood trips to the beach and family reunions
None of them were his, he didn't have any proof of his childhood
He watched them all
It was something about the frame rate and graininess and yellowed colors
Once he had been a cinema student, and he remembered, and grew embarrassed
He left

The hallway was filled with potted plants
They formed a strange forest, rearranged by a mischievous child
It wasn't altogether unpleasant, he thought
Hopefully the child's parents would feel the same way
Once he had weaved through the forest, he was in the foyer

The foyer was filled with crying relatives, and mints
Those that weren't crying were the distant relatives, and they huddled in a corner, each sucking on a mint
There was nobody in the center of the room, something about the tile cross on the floor seemed too holy to touch
He walked straight to it and waited for someone to approach him, but nobody did
A thought of laying down crossed his mind, and he allowed himself a laugh as he moved past the room
The distant relatives shared a burst of laughter themselves, but were immediately guilty about it, and quickly dispersed, forming a maze for him to push through on his way to the cafeteria

The cafeteria was filled with cutlery
Far too much for the meager feast that sat on the sad, stained tablecloths, he thought
He poured himself a glass of ice water and went to the stairwell

The stairwell was filled with the stench of cigarettes
When he was younger, he loved the smell
It didn't take long for him to pick up the habit once he was independent of his parents
A girl he dated once told him she wouldn't kiss him until he quit
It didn't take long for him to quit
They never kissed, anyway
He didn't find the smell in the stairwell quite as favorable, and quickened his pace to the roof

The roof was filled with a low humming noise that made his stomach wobble
There was a time when he believed such a sound was an omen
Littered across the roof were dead flowers, mostly roses
They had likely been left behind by other grievers
He wondered if the people that had left the flowers were still grieving

The ground was filled with rocks and asphalt and other hard things
It split him open like a tomato

Sepia

There's a tree somewhere that looks like the one you keep imagining

It's out there
You'll never find it