This poem is for anyone who has ever tried to hold water in their fingertips

and stick the solid of their sweaty hands

against the fluidity of existence itself

and tried to grasp it

and paint upon it’s skin with your fingers

only to realize it’s skin is paint itself

and suddenly

your perception of canvas melts into the floor

and the floor melts into space

and are nothing but a host of mixing colors

with floating, scarred hands

we are liquid


I’m not trying to sound like an angsty teenager when I ask you this:

have you ever looked at the stars?

I bet they do whatever they want

Think about it!

There’s no gravity there!

No rules


or parents

I bet they just float in and out of social constructions

like the air does with our lungs

and doesn’t matter

which particles of stardust mix with which

they just dance


I am realizing now

That we are happier when we see ourselves like stars

Because when you close your eyes

there really is no gravity here


the labels that confine us like cubicles

can be erased with the pencil of perception

you see, if a woman with hairy legs

is still a woman

then maybe, femininity transcends appearance

and maybe Beauty is a sandcastle

Cause it can be built and washed away

in the same day

and maybe intelligence is more than a number

and people are more than their possessions

and race is not the stereotype it’s chained to

we are more than that jail cell of

gender role GPA 150 characters in our bio

confined to four claustrophobic corners

we have effectively turned watercolor

into graph paper


This poem is for anyone who has ever tried to grasp the universe in their fingertips


I learned in class that

it’s always changing

and I know

the night sky would be a lot less interesting

if it was crammed into a box


I know

we’ve successfully made ourselves less interesting

because human identity is the universe

it’s running water

it’s an anti-gravity question mark

pouring the alphabet onto a spinning page

that we keep trying to read

it’s an expanding stellar space of endless potential energy

stretching its arms into the infinite unknown

permeating the sweat and skin

of every star in that seductive solar system


we let little fingertips with four corners try to domesticate our infinity

I guess we all forget


nothing can catch us.

nothing can catch us.


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