melodramatically stricken with the common cold

when i'm sick
like
now

a darkness
creeps in
round the
edges

shrouding
life in
gray cobwebs,
a mustiness
dirtying
everything

spreading
towards
the center

even melancholia
loses its
romantic
luster.

my heart is a
cold
damp
basement.

wheeze.

unanswered humanity

sincerity
for me
is usually found
at the bottom of my
third glass of whiskey.
by this time
my soul is palpable,
though my speech slurred,
i feel compelled to scream
something Real
something Beautiful
to an indifferent world.
i demand nothing but
this boomerang returned
with the same
sentiment.

maybe it got
stuck in a tree
somewhere.

birthday reminder

it is the birthday
of a dead man
facebook reminds me
of this
urges me
to send him a gift
but he hung himself
shortly after his
last birthday
so i don't think
he'll be
needing anything.

his widow
however
i know her
and she deserves
more
for what she found
which was his
swaying body
dangling there
lifeless.
she deserves
fucking
everything.

smoke signals

sometimes
thoughts are left out
for a reason
like hooks
or smoke signals
flares to passing ships
i'm here

everyday horrors

i watched a video
today
about growing up
teased.
bullied.

i try to be casual
about this topic.
sure i'm a nerd.
I wear that badge with
pride.
i didn't
however
when i was a kid.

i was the
friendless kid
then.
the awkward girl.
the ugly girl.
the kid that was made to feel
that just her last name
alone
was a
dirty word.

thick glasses.
crooked teeth
overbite and i was
shy.

the teachers
even had a go at me.

well, fuck them.
with something sharp.

who treats a child that way?
who the fuck?

it was between 3rd and 6th grade
when the worst of it came at me.
i was too young
to know anything of suicide,
which was good
because i hated myself every day
every
damn
day.

i lied to my parents
told them school was fine
and after a while
they stopped asking.

i cried under my bed while
my brothers continued
my name calling
at home.

it stopped
for the most part
during high school.
i moved, made friends.
no one knew they were supposed to
hate me.

those years
however
have made me
extremely insecure
defensive
detached
and a little jaded
when it comes to meeting
new people
or even when relating
to those who i am supposedly
close to.

now i have kids of my own
and it disturbs me to think
they could experience the same
sort of hell.
they are both
beautiful children
but different, smart.
the smart ones always are
singled out.
and i know
that if they are anything like me
they will never tell me
about their own
everyday horrors.

quiet mind station

loneliness
has nothing to do with
who is surrounding you.
it's how many people
or the lack thereof
that are operating at the same
frequency.

I'm drinking alone
which i like
to be alone sometimes
but nights like these
i feel like the only one
on this channel.

i'm the only one
switched on.

i love hate that.

Tragedy

i saw it on the news
this girl was hit,
they say 'woman'
but she was still
in her teens.
the train came
while they were
fishing,
he made it
but
she slipped.

it's sad
but i didn't
know her.

i do know
the men
on that train,
know them
from the hotel
where i work.

the conductor
he's a nice guy.
like one of those nice guys
that you don't flirt with
nothing like that
but maybe makes a bad day
a little better
with just an upbeat
hello.

they say he won't
talk to anyone
won't answer his phone.

i know
it's worse that a girl
was killed
but i didn't know her.

he won't talk to anyone
and it's not his fault.
those trains, man
they take so long to stop.
she shouldn't have been there.

a good person's shininess was
taken
a nice guy is haunted
and that is
tragic
also.

you don't read that part
in the news.

How I feel after my third glass of pink wine.

Things feel so full.
The air feels
more
substantial.
Corners
sharper.
Shadows
deeeeeper.
I have more resolve
and smile
when my eyes close.
I don't know
and that is
fine.
I don't need to.
What I feel is
Real.
I am the bright center
of my existance,
that is all I know,
it's all that matters.
So BOOM.

How I feel after my second glass of pink wine.

I'm so mundane.
I sit here and drink
and I
watch whatever the fuck is playing
on whatever the fuck TV channel
I don't care
I never care.
It's just noise and light.
The real
the Me
it bubbles up silently
while I drink my wine
it wells up and hurts
in my guts.
I need eyes
I need confirmation
that never comes.
But the sun
still shines
and the hours still
tick by slower than is comfortable
and I'm still here,
waiting for something
speculating
wishing I knew more
and cared less.
Wishing.

Lazy

I didn't do anything today.
I wandered from room to room
sat and thought about what I should be doing
drank hard cider before the agreed on 5:00
and it didn't help my disposition.
My usefulness
where ever that part is located
has atrophied.
I can't start.
I stalled as soon as these
lazy feet swung out of bed
ready to waste the day.

And now it's almost over.

Out of place in the waking world

I wish for eternity and solitude,
ache for sleep,
for the world to sleep.
The chords only fit my song
when thunderstorms beat at my door.
I want to fall into dream.
An eerie, rainy, dark trip,
the warm air saturated with humid love.
I want to pull others in with me,
reside there permanently and
never speak aloud again.