in faded delirium the order of the world dissembles. it is my mind, replicated endlessly, mitotic and slippery, paint cradling reality in soft palms.

here is the sky, pink at noon and blue at sunset, black at darkest night with stars soaked in its ebony skin.

a boy in his attractive pallor is on his bench, shifting from alertly thoughtful to a slouched spine and heavy head in heartfelt hands. he watches the world.

until my thoughts wrapped their arms around the hips of reality, the boy was alone.

busy legs would shuttle past his static form, dress-pant thighs rubbing against one another. he would be asked if he smoked weed; he would smile and say yes when really he meant no.

he would cry into his fingers because it wouldn't rain, because people were ignorant and yet so beautiful. no one knew this.

today is different. business-casuals stop in their tracks to watch this boy think and cry, watch yellow leaves sleep til spring and wear holes in their marigold slippers.

children on bicycles crash, falling to their knees and bleeding, unminding.

crowds of people, all too beautiful for him, stop and watch.

a leaf falls into a puddle just-so, and he cries.

isn't he the most caring, beautiful boy in the world? a man in a beige trench coat thinks.

a woman with pearls on her neck stumbles over a crack in the pavement, unobservant of her surroundings from her infatuation- i cannot fathom how much that silly transatlantic girl loves him!

with every tear he cries, a dozen more fall from his audience.

tell the autumn it is beautiful yet nothing compared to him.

in this warped world, this boy knows he is loved and beautiful; this boy could not hurt his heart or another's; he is whole and the most caring, beautiful boy in the world-

he will never die.