June 2010
1 post
I have had a ton of trouble just getting words out lately.
I spend so much energy trying to decide what other people think of me. Strangers even, people I would and will never encounter. If I think that so and so would dislike something I had to say, or disagree, or think I was stupid and inarticulate I freeze up and don’t do anything at all.
In fact, I recently started drinking socially,...
April 2010
1 post
Sorry.
I think I’m hitting a point where I over-think out of compulsion. It’s possible that it’s a phase, but I’m extremely comfortable. So now I’m insecure out of habit, instead of delusion.
Now, granted, all of this came out of even more thinking, so maybe I’m wrong. Because just like you can’t remember to forget, you can’t think to not.
But I feel at...
February 2010
3 posts
I think I’m an introvert. My friends don’t. They say no one who is as loud and opinionated and good with strangers as I am could possibly be an introvert.
But every time plans get cancelled, I breathe a sigh of relief.
And I may run my mouth, but I’m never saying a percent of what I’m thinking.
At this point, I feel like I’m boasting, that I’m alluding to something deeper and more meaningful...
Oh Well.
I’m wrapped up in blankets, pulling them tight, up to my nose. I’m looking out the window and I’m watching dog walkers and joggers and mailmen and the sun makes their shadows dance.
My room is the color of broth.
Someone is stroking my head and I’m shivering and smiling.
“Get your hopes up. Cause one of these days you’re going to hope just right.”
A...
One after Another
My brain is constantly making promises that my inertia can’t keep.
Intellectually I’ll quit, but I’m not about to.
My brain also tells me this time will be different. It’s barely ever right.
I talk to myself when I’m embarrassed, or disappointed. I usually cuss myself and shake my head. Maybe I can rattle away that memory before it sticks.
I talk too much.
Sometimes little things knock you off of...
January 2010
1 post
Whisper
She throws her whisper over me like a blanket. She’s a ghost and she’s warm, she’s lucid. Not a memory, but a dream. She’s leaning into me, kissing at my ear. Filling me with her breath.
It’s the moments where your mind leaves that you’ll remember the most. The fleeting seconds where every single thing was right and beautiful, and you got a pat on the head, and...
December 2009
2 posts
Yearn
Every now and then, this mysterious feeling creeps into my head. Well, maybe it creeps, or maybe it’s always there. Either way, it appears seemingly at random, and only for a moment. Like a prisoner caught mid-escape by a stray spotlight, it surfaces, blinks its eyes, and then retreats back to the shadows. So if this feeling a criminal, let these words be a sketch of the suspect, so that I...
November 2009
1 post
Kid
It’s fall and maybe I can breathe deep now. Maybe I can feel the sun shine, maybe I can let it cut me and stuff me.
Maybe I can leave my car windows down, and park in some cul-de-sac, and let the leaves float down to my floorboards. Let them stack and flood, up to my ankles, and then my nose, every breath and pulse sending a crinkle through the chassis as each leaf shifts and breaks,...
October 2009
1 post
Let the next love in.
I look at certain things and know I am supposed to feel something.
I’ll sit there and stare, trying desperately to reach something in me,
let it stick somewhere.
But it just passes through.
-
Earlier in the year, a beautiful girl let me kiss her.
This doesn’t happen often in my life, certainly recently.
It was odd though, I didn’t feel much of anything,
like placing my lips upon brick,
there was...
September 2009
1 post
The man who gets to have you, well he's dead to...
The artists and the writers, and the kings and photographers
Well I imagine them with their models and queens and characters
Sipping some something I’ve never heard of
They laugh and she smiles and then she hangs in her head
She looks up and she’s biting her lip and she’s looking at him
And that fucking devil, that fucking fashionista prick
So coy, what a winner, what a goddamn man
Then...
July 2009
5 posts
I am Machine.
And your sweet sweeping breeze blows through me like cheap metal, and it sticks to every single organ so they smell like you now, like pink natural creeping flowers, a kudzu strangle around my throat, a choke of pollen and dew falls splat. These factory eyes move like a mars rover and your hips move like fields of clover and I stare and stare and stare for pictures to access later. Sweet love,...
Then you take a breath and realize things are...
I don’t know why were given hindsight. I understand that in some situations, it’s good to look back, ask what you did wrong, and fix it for the future.
But sometimes it does nothing but complicate things.
Instead of giving me confidence for the future, instead I am stripped of any I once had.
Perhaps there is something wrong with my plumbing. Informations enters one tube and gets...
A Resignation
My life seems like a series of distractions
Based upon my actions
Of chasing down every little want
Except for the big wants
These scare me
And these little distractions get in the way of anything substantial
Anything that sticks
Anything that puts meat on the bones
Because what I’m after is the one big fix
The one big end all never say never again
Content and without fear and I can take on the...
White/Blue
There’s a man, right off the shore, who doesn’t ever visit. He’s a sweet man, I know, I bring him fruit from the market, and he’s always kind. He nods all the time, always agreeing with you, even when you haven’t said a thing. Barely says a word actually. Gives you the money and nods. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever even heard his voice. Wonder if he even has one.
He’s got this little shack,...
June 2009
8 posts
Scum.
“Keep it together.”
My tires throw up gravel behind me, engine has been making that sound for sometime now, no money to get it checked out. I floor the goddamn pedal.
“You’re crackin’ up on me, you’re losing it.”
Crazy people don’t know their crazy, but me, I’m insane. I’ve got a brain never meant to survive, shoulda died in the womb,...
I can’t do it myself.
It would have to be a freak accident.
Like a lightning bolt.
It’s my mom. And my dad, but he has Dillon.
It’s my friends.
It’s how easily my actions could be misinterpreted and twisted to mean something besides I just wanted to stop.
It’s the fact that I’ve never seen crystal blue waters.
I’ve never lived on my own.
I’ve...
Tonight I’m not allowed to write what I want, because what I want causes worry and strife and whatnot, so I don’t know. Maybe I could write, and not put it on here. Imagine that! Yeah, let’s do that.
I sometimes wonder if spectacular is possible.
I don’t think I’m a cynic, or even a realist. Simply a worrier.
Remember when magic was possible? Not even possible, but known, it was around us, it was always hiding just behind our line of sight. As a kid, I was always on the verge of discovering a secret alcove with fallen columns, covered in moss, dust dancing and swirling and catching the light....
My family mows the grass at an angle. It seems...
“My dad found me laying the grass like this one time.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I was walking up to my front door, I had my headphones in, and I just plopped down. Looked up at the stars. It feels nice, you know, to have these cliche moments that feel completely genuine.”
I nod. I don’t know if she sees or not.
“Anyway, my dad comes outside, well, I...
Every morning for the past two weeks, right before I wake up, you come into my dreams and give me a hug.
(Either this, or I dreamt it fourteen times tonight. Dreams are misleading, you know.)
It is usually under some rediculous premise, of course; you’re running off to go sleep in a closet with my step-brother, your home planet has been destroyed and you are in need of consolation, or...
A Problem (A Small One)
Somewhere people have real problems.
Not anywhere close to here, mind you. No, people round here don’t know real problems, can’t comprehend them.
This is a problem.
I include myself, of course. Being a white American male of the upper-middle class, I am coddled. I don’t have AIDS, my free will is accepted and encouraged, and I am certainly not about to go hungry.
So like any...
Recitivist
Repeat offender… but of what? When bad ideas are good ideas then no ideas are probably best. One could go crazy, listening to himself. Constantly relapsing on his own will, but how’s that for falling victim to labels? It’s the words that I have trouble with. To try and comprehensively explain one-tenth of what flies twixt my ears is impossible, even with words like twixt....
May 2009
8 posts
4
It’s tough because I know you’re awake, too.
We are the only ones I know who will stay up until dawn simply because sleep is boring.
Not that either of us are doing anything worthwhile.
But I am awake in a big empty house and you are awake and I know the room you’re sitting in even, I know exactly what you’re doing and it can’t be a together thing and that’s...
I'm going to love you forever, I'll always be...
Change is invetivtable. So is inertia. Growth is constant; habits the same. We all fear different, but different never really comes does it? I spend so much time trying to keep everything comfortable, but I’m never comfortable. Yes, things today are unlike yesterdays things: my body, my office, the faces of everyone I consider close, I am always rotating these things out, swapping them for a...
Bed
A bed is a terrible thing. Because a bed (specifically, my bed) is made to comfort you physically, not to mention totally. Mine succeeds. This is unfortunate.
Because my bed eliminates all physical discomfort I may feel, my body becomes nonexistent. My feet dissolve, my legs melt, my stomach steadily flows into the mattress through a drain on my back, and I am left with my head.
This is...
Someday I should learn to mix heartache with...
It’s just misery. Avoidable misery. I could never, ever go through this pain ever again if I didn’t want to. Because it’s just a tease, really. Even if you keep it until you die, it’s a tease, it’s gone again.
Just as the colors get brighter, the air smells better, it will be that much worse when she’s gone. Love has a way of turning grays vibrant. But again,...
She Has Different Dreams
It’s not that I can’t sleep. I choose not to.
If I got in bed, if I turned off the light, if I took my glasses off, I would fall fast asleep.
I would dream. My mind would project movies onto my eyelids, where you and I were cuddled up next to each other, and I could kiss your head, and I was smooth, my knees didn’t buckle. But I’m awake, and they do. I’m awake, and...
Down
It’s hopeless. That’s why my fingers won’t move. Why these tears won’t fall. Why my fist clenches but never strikes this bright ugly screen. I can’t create. Some can. I’m not one of them. I can’t make anything worth a damn. I could, at one point. When I was younger, sure. I wrote phrases and passages that made people react, made people feel. But I just can’t anymore. Or maybe I never could. ...
A Sunday
Houses are too comfortable. Too safe. And mine’s too quiet. I’m thinking, thinking alot. But, I bet if I was out in the freezing cold I wouldn’t be thinking. I’d be surviving. And if I didn’t even have a cell phone! Then I wouldn’t wonder when she was gonna call. Ah yes, see, simplify. I need to simplify. I’ve had it too good for too long. Some may say...
Dear 45-Year Old Me-
Hello! How are you doing? Is your hair gray? Okay, enough, shut up. LISTEN. I’m writing you this letter on my 18th birthday! And since it all goes downhill from here, I thought I’d just let you know what this was like. Being a teenager, for you, was odd. It was like a rollercoaster that had miles and miles of boring, straight parts, with lots of fun noises and lights going off...