lightning bugs in my soft pallete

i spend too long under running water

practice making sounds for no-one else's sake

work on the way it responates

i could dissect all my echos

make surgical diagrams of my joy

i used to spend so long thinking

"this is what it feels like to enjoy yourself"

i'd forget to enjoy myself

lately i've been enjoying myself

i've been letting fireflies live

i've never heard my favourite poem

but i love the shadow it casts on my cave wall

the way it plays with my handprints

i got told it’d be a horrible life

but all the right strangers

look at me with so much love

that most days it makes up for the wrong ones

really, truly. the kitchen's never totally clean

but i mean it, i've never been so nourished.

i've slept on floors more confortable than my old bed

but not often - the poetry of that line

gets ruined by all the sofas, fold-out futons,

friends sharing their own beds with me,

how many times i have a kind of home

i'd never known and a blessing of faggots

with arms wide open waiting for all of me.

some doubters were worried, some just cruel,

but all of them were wrong. don't you see?

they can throw me a pity party but can't make me attend.