you still believe in me

if schizophrenia should
manipulate my figments
and project their grainy images,
sepia-toned, onto vanishing blackboards
then i will not retreat to red lights
and insist on redeveloping the phosphors
but instead cast brighter moods
and bless my imagination
for defining you

in my backyard
nature seems to understand
that life/death are not mutually exclusive
but rather cyclical:
leaves once dependent on water
flare out in vibrancy
before plummeting, slowly
(wind-resistance can't be applied
because it implies unwillingness
rather, they glide with harmony)
into the swimming pool.
there, they float and disintegrate
and reincarnate themselves

you are the same way,
always disappearing and reappearing
between the line that separates
my daydreams and fevers; one moment
i will be swimming towards the horizon
and the next scorched by the fires
exhaled by the sun

so many things depend entirely
on what i choose to create.
constructions of totem poles exist
on the outskirts of summer,
back when the leaves were alive
and danced on native land.
your absence was transient yet
it still scalped me
and my hair fell out as evidence
of my losing faith.
but when the moon shone that night
by eclipsing the body of the sun
i realized that i could always just
bring you back-

it was quiet, still.
the mist was composed of me.
there was something beautiful
about my shadow.
there was something beautiful
about your glow.