what I mean when I talk about oneness

1. 

The morning I dissolved my ego, a man with a pink beard
and blue wash in his hair told me not to worry.
Just try to think where you put it last?
It’ll show up eventually, probably in your pile of scarves,
The ones you wrap around yourself and get tangled up in
And leave trailing out of your bag as you Lime bike to Lidl.

Namaste, he said his name was Carl and he used to move like that.
Used to open beer with his teeth and roll the window down for girls.
Used to call them by their last name and tell them nice pair.
Used to play his part as you play yours, and me mine,
drive so fast you’ve only got time for shortcuts and motorways.

He pats his belly, cushions blooming round him
"Now look at me--
I crashed.
I'm on crutches, on this old sofa.
Basically fully merged into it now,
Don't care about nothing so much anymore"

2.

i wanted to tell you how much i love you,
but instead i invited you to karaoke,
and you said aw yeah that sounds fun
and i forced myself to wait 2 hours and 11 minutes
before saying amazing, see u there yayy!!

next time, no waiting
i'll belt it in your ear.
how mad i got at my skin
and your skin and your ribs—
those stupid bitches
that keep us apart at night,
keep our flesh from joining into one

big old mess,
all our stuff
bleeding out, making a stain
we’ll never wash out,
as the sun fights against a
long summer night,
aching to rise
into the sky.

III.

Is it too cliche for me to tell you at this dinner table that there are stars connected to you and me and this table and that flame, made of the same stuff we’re made of? That we will return to when we’re done, going back just as easily as we got here? That every human is a universe and if that’s so I don’t know how the underground doors can keep it together. How can the high street bear it?

Courtney carries a constellation of ancestors in the back pocket of her Topshop Joni jeans, hoisted high for Nana and Papa because she has her eyes and his way of making a whole room laugh. She wears a Libra necklace, she knows how it is, swinging down the road.

Did you know how badly we need Jupiter? Its gravitational shield, our bodyguard for billions of years, swerving and diverting asteroids and comets out of our soft orbit.

When we destroy ourselves, maybe it will call up a friend and say:

“Know what— they were good one, so they were…

I’m getting empty nest syndrome, aye so I am!

Who am I going to fuss over now?”