falling out of step

the alarm bitches at 5
remind me why i'm alive
i go to work
i smile at jerks
just to pay my rent and survive

i stand in line and behave
just another obediant slave
but i'll scream inside
and quietly abide
until i'm in my grave

in traffic amidst the clones
of assholes on their cell phones
i realize,
fuck this

i don't have to do this

and i don't have to
fucking
rhyme.

boom.

rutttttttttt

i am a mad jumble.

not even a puzzle, since i don't think, if solved, i would even

form a coherent picture.

i feel things that aren't real

but what is real

anyway?

i drink and i

miss smoking and i

swear to myself i will

make things happen.

my life has become

a plan

not

a life.

what good would my fucking plan be

if i died next week?

fuck.

it's all work and school and kids

bills and work and potty training

grocery shopping and routine routine routine

what happened to me??

i can't tell whether i'm waking up

or just drunk and selfish

but something

needs

to 

change.

frustrated.

sometimes i can't find the words
(well, my own words)
but still want to scream what i'm feeling
in some language of pure emotion
and make somebody
feel it

community college history class (week 2)

i'm relearning it all, and for the first time i'm listening. the beginnings of time recorded by fossils and caves, geographic locations of ancient civilizations, now the modern day blah blah. shit, i never knew where that was in the first place. my eyes are (finally) open. the world felt so big until i studied a map. now i feel like i could be on jeopardy.

maryland memory

sitting around, drinking whatever, listening to joni mitchell blue, stuck in my past. it's lonely now that i'm the only one there in the dark, college music radio, watching the red power light on a hard floor waiting for my time to go. breathing breathing hush. am i the only one here holding my breath?

plug it up

it's been inflating since i was born, i fear the pigs blood like anyone else, hate to reach, obtain, only to be splattered with shame. catch it before it explodes, catch it before the leeches reach me from below. what mask could i find close enough to the face i lost, a face that was probably only another mask anyway. i'll show it to no one and pretend that they're all impressed, show it to everyone and they'll still look away. it's the same, it's all the same, i say i'll become satisfied with the now, the void, the empty. fill it with fantasy, words, and liquor. plug it up so the blood won't spill. conform to the lobotomized norm. be comfortable, the end will be the same. i'd rather walk on glass, show up at the end bloody and screaming and alive till my last than arrive in a bubble, bloated, vacant, and numb.

bus stop girl

bus stop girl
electrical tape glasses fix
glitter sweater, metal mind,
sees the future
a good 20 years forward
and counting.
quiet alone
kicking rocks at
the top of the street
and nowhere to go
but in.
head contains
a flux capacitor
fueled by boredom
wonder
desire to be anyone
and anywhere
but who
and where
she is.
bus stop girl
slowing time
stretching seconds
into years
decades.

numb ≠ peace

numb is not peace
numb is not peace
i'm staring behind me
despite the shouts
demanding to be heard
the edges are getting deep
it's hard to stay centered
when sinking looks so easy
when drinking feels so peaceful
find a quiet center
hear a one sided conversation
that numb is not peace
and that peace is god
but god is me
and god is nothing
how can you be this blind
how can this instinct be ignored
by so many for so long
your righteousness is dull and sickening
your words and quotes are meaningless
sad and insincere
i won't find my peace in your
holy encyclopedia of lies
i am goodness for the sake of goodness
and evil for the sake of my humanity
loving and awful and sweet and base
this is the only way to peace

almost = heaven

in a beautiful place
of silence
and full of
tommorrow.

i promised myself
i'd get here.

he's sleeping upstairs
and he loves me
and he loves us,
all of us.
he's not leaving.

dead weight is nearly purged
very nearly
tossed out
very nearly
forgotten.

hold my breath

so close
so close
teetering on the edge of nirvana
is possibly better than
reaching it.