say it

dishonest 

stranger

each response

my hesitancy

toes icy

water

a lie coerced

grabs hold of

teeth & tongue

to avoid its

birth

so

why don't you

ask for a

truth

& he does

in continuous

breath, what is

held sacred,

concealed

answers this

call & 

response,

a repeated

verse

grateful to

be found, 

if not

recognized

glint

art is simply the

attempt to explain

truth in the context 

of a lie

a beautiful form of

self-preservation where

one can create a 

replica

completely traceable 

but ultimately 

deniable

men

insanity that 

assumes,

infuriates yet 

consumes

is easily named

men

the impulse to

jump to my death 

when standing at 

the edge of

great heights

the fear I might,

for no reason,

drive my car off

a bridge on a

dark whim

is still less absurd

than this urge to 

fall & shatter

continuously on a 

loop for their

amusement

12/10

such a simple

difference,

the memory of

lamplight 

brushing skin 

attaches an

extra layer to 

a film of which

I'd already been 

spellbound 

it's unfair

being a woman

in this

incapable 

(no)

unwilling to 

separate mind

from body

no beers, but tears for fears

In lieu of 

drinking

[it is after

midnight &

I have 

nothing &

(also)

I am waiting 

to be certain

that the world

isn't ending]

I made a

decision

at some 

point 

to just 

go ahead

allow the

flood

because 

dammit

I'll drown 

in anything

& if I can't 

tap out

I may as well

go all in. 

indigestion

my poor bed is 

holding up so much 

weight tonight.

those swallowed 

maybes

slid down smooth, 

yet,

given an hour 

on my back,

sank hard to form

heavy nevers & 

there's no antacid to 

cure the heart burns.

I'm certain now that 

I've digested every

salty subconscious 

thought

devoured every bit of 

alcohol left in

this house

to fill the rest

but 

I still save room

for a scream

because

there's always

room for you, 

sweets. 

life right now

I just apologized

for simply existing

& this was actually

accepted.

Dude, I was being

dramatic, 

you're not supposed to 

just roll with it.

*

Twelve minutes until

my shift starts, 

I am staring at the 

front entrance

from my parked car.

I really feel how

easy it would be to just

quit at everything.

*

I just choked on the 

water that I drank to 

keep myself from 

choking.

This is what 

happens when 

I try to help 

myself.

*

I am watching the moon

fall into a red shadow

in a clear night. This must

hold some magic,

so I wished on the

eclipsing moon, two

shooting stars, &

apparently 

an airplane.

I believe in nothing

& everything

tonight. 

torch

it's had time to burn

to flicker, aching

while bound & breaking

buried under silence

thriving on meager

crumbs of memory

surviving, though

hope misplaced

a smoldering glow

behind hidden tears

still holding space

through passing years

this flame ignited

folded in his arms &

keeps me warm in hopes

I find my way back

substitute synonym

I believe we appear 

jointly attractive

I thought your sneakers

were not vegan friendly

he's an ersatz man

implied height from his

platform shoes 

easy appearances 

are all convoluted

seems in his salad days 

but really quite wilted

he entered the world

with a disposable spork

in his face hole

(this is what happens when I can't sleep at 4am and get the great idea to rewrite song lyrics to say the exact same thing, only stupider...all because the word "ersatz" had been mysteriously clanging around in my head)

getting through

Breathe. 

Drink water.

Stretch & move

(okay, stop moving

that hurt).

Rest.

Ice.

Compress.

Elevate.

Take a shower

Scrub, shave, condition.

Moisturize!

Deodorize!

Perfume &

apply war paint. 

Don't drink, 

don't smoke

(what do you do?)

Subtle withdrawal

symptoms follow,

(must drink

endless coffee).

Journal & reflect.

Dream & set goals.

Prioritize!

Visualize!

Check internal dialogue 

(it says

this is all

pointless).

Nam Myoho 

Renge Kyo, 

on a loop,

under breath

(so no one knows

you've been dabbling).

Guided meditation. 

Binaural delta waves.

Sleep hypnosis. 

Subliminal reprogramming.

Lofi hip hop?

Sleep!

Just fucking SLEEP! 

(sigh)

Trying is

exhausting.

here goes

started meds

today

hoping

they allow me

to experience

(oh)

any 

fucking 

thing

without this 

impulse

to vomit 

from my eyes

first thing

untangled

spit from sleep to 

blaring lightness

a blinding scream

unfolding

placing dreams

still rebellious 

back into cages

unwary

holding no caution

under my skin to the

notes of his song

unguarded

from dangle & pull,

I yawn echoes into the

safety of a morning

diffusing a bomb

as I'm slamming doors &

cursing existence, I 

~grudgingly~

replay this thought of a 

wiser, calmer self, 

sighing in the back

"expectations are only

resentments 

waiting to happen."

(delivered in a 

condescending

sing-song)

I have no idea how or when

that sentiment burrowed in,

which inspirational garbage heap

this quote was salvaged from, yet 

here it is, regardless.

ahhh...

I'm still throwing things

but breathing, 

allowing the uncaring 

current of events to

carry me screaming 

toward certain failure

thank you,

Wiser Jenny,

you're so right!

just kick back, let go

of what you can't change

& allow the whims of

assholes to dictate the 

course of your life

just breathe...

relax...

(don't hurt anyone)

First Reformed

Ethan pours himself a death

& wraps himself in wire,

suffering to deflect his

desire (I think, there's really 

no difference)

but in the end, as in life,

love reigns over god

alright, but

I'll watch anything

starring Ethan Hawke.

it's taken me four nights

to get through this movie,

I pour out my death &

go to bed.

First Reformed

⭐⭐⭐½

dreaming small

if I disappear just a bit

into a ready-made story

(not that I could, but if)

erase enough of me that 

they quit digging on

exposed nerves &

I could not be found

well, then

life would be grand

I'd drink my coffee

after dinner, curl into 

the night alone to

read & sleep without

dreaming big

rinse & repeat

this is me, but

we love our big ideas

of self, flickering,

burning projections,

stories cast with us,

words written for us

but what character, then,

am I?

the ill-fated mother of

every fairy tale heroine,

only a beloved memory

a naive orphan wandering

the forest, serenading 

woodland creatures

a dark sorceress,

terrifying, commanding,

bitter to the beauty of youth

the feral warrior princess

fighting for nature,

renouncing humanity 

a spectral grin

teasing from the trees, 

spouting mad misdirection 

or, just

peaceful & small, 

wanting only a smoke,

a bit of adventure &

~hopefully~

a second breakfast

the perfect recipe

have drunken deep thought

count syllables on fingers

boom, it's a haiku

🥳

jumping waves

another suit

slipped, zipped

fit smooth & tight

skin for skin

watching the

tide roll in

each wave greets

a new swimmer

familiar to the sea,

waters lap & slide

past her fresh & 

ephemeral hide

but if the swells

calm, slow, show

the diver there's

room to survive

nude & disarmed,

unbreaking, unharmed

she will shed her suit,

buoyed by trust, brave,

peel down & bare skin 

untouched & fair 'neath

slippery illusions that hide

a self she saves

(but she's still keeping

a skin for the next wave) 

Alice (1988)

there's rain after Alice

washing away sawdust

of taxidermied rodents

& now there's a drum ritual

coming from the batting cages

have we fallen asleep

fallen asleep fallen

into her desk drawer

a memory of this film is

a memory of a dream is

a memory of a memory

and the raindrops trick our

arms into numbness, the ants

inside the sink are the last 

straw, I'm going to bed to

wake up & never watch this

movie again

Alice

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Definitely recommend 

a poem without words (translated into words)

nothing feels more

honest than silence.

I could fill the space

with noise & static 

~but~

thoughts scale down

to insufficient when

squooshed

funneled 

tiny into 

words.

~however~

if I could construct a 

wordless poem

(only the raw material)

exude this 

passion & pain

through stillness

(rather than 

demoting them to

letters)

well...

no one could

fucking read it

obviously.

i must be asleep

any time now

I'm going to

wake up &

tell everyone

I dreamt that

my cat just

gave birth to

George Jetson

dissonance

if the sky were gray

this wouldn't all feel 

so wrong

but aching here in

the sunshine

lends an unbearable

dimension to emptiness

& lines it with guilt

tired: a song without music

I'm learning slowly

the cruel lies of time

losing intention & 

ignoring the signs

keeping hands up 

over my eyes

it's impressive 

how much pain my

ignorance buys

I write my maps of 

unresolved dreams

handmade grief & 

shifting extremes

keep turning this wheel 

of hope & ennui

until I'm so dulled

I don't care 

what I believe

adrift in the sea or

running aground

it's my own siren song

that lures me to drown

my heart pulls me in &

fear holds me down

I know how to swim but 

I'm so tired &

lost in the sound

push

time's not forgiving

put down the crystal ball &

roll the fucking dice

coffee

old friend, you may be

tearing my stomach up, but

I just can't quit you

peace

to tread bare faced, raw

through a world of masked liars

is true bravery

I never could get the hang of Thursdays

I awoke to Shadowy Men

on a Shadowy Planet, guitars &

nostalgia signaling me from my

phone, dragging me out of a 

basement nightmare where all my

comics & vinyl were filled with

bugs (also, eggs of bugs)

devastating

~but before that~

there were donkeys on the

deck, an entire family of them just

pissing and jumping everywhere

(their elders spoke English but 

said nothing of consequence)

these eventually morphed into 

my friends, who were holding 

drinks & ignoring me

go ahead &

analyze that

yeah, I'm glad I'm out,

into this blur of a world & 

Kids in the Hall isn't a 

terrible way to wake

~but~

the cat is screaming 

at my door & 

I'm out of cream for my

coffee & 

there's this desert 

in my mouth from the

4am boozy boys

ahhh already

fuck you, Thursday. 

Vivian

all these interviews 

show that she was alone

among the children, 

quietly mad & cruel

had the world been such a

sacrifice if her brilliance 

shown so clearly in

black & white, photos of

lives unseen

is it better to burn 

brightly & dangerous, 

engulfed

or 

to coast happily

ignorant of the

dark alleys, 

spreading one's

mediocrity evenly 

over just the

surface

connecting & loving,

being loved without

sharp corners, collections, 

fixed points of anger

pleading at the end

just to be seen

rope bridge

quote from a dream world: 

"safety isn't always comfort, 

but sometimes danger.

excitement isn't necessarily 

danger, but sometimes safety."

full circle. I guess. 

that doesn't 

make sense,

but I just woke up.

I had another bridge dream

where I stalled on my side

of a long rope bridge over a

canyon of certain death.

this isn't my worst fear

but it's definitely

one of them.

it replaced the bridge to Hatteras

(which seemed taller than necessary,

but I suppose that was my perception).

Hatteras wasn't on the other side &

that doesn't make sense, either. 

anyhow,

to be where I needed,

I had to cross.

I'm a little disgusted by this

obvious metaphor.

oh, snap

a band snaps me back

in an instant, a flimsy circle

over thin skin to hold me 

in place, from distraction

gone but persistent, here 

surrounded by reminders, 

there's nowhere else to go

but backwards, pulled in,

a foot propped on a table,

a song taped to the line

(SNAP) the world comes

back into focus, a duller

version of a daydream that's

already seeping back in, an

eyelash blown into the wind

(SNAP) someone is playing

Piano Man in spanish, I sing

along in english, it's sad & it's

sweet & I knew it complete,

a way to shield the hated heat

(SNAP) move faster, focus & 

when he comes round with the 

clipboard again, take the time,

this place only amplifies what's

lovely & fleeting by being neither

self pep talk

ignore where the mind goes

when tired and alone. this is a

nightmare field of nowhere,

existing only to rehearse for a

contingency, a risk assessment, 

an emergency exit from fear.

don't pretend to care or not,

the soul dismantles with every

lie, the spirit clouds each time

we change our masks to face

another's disguise. there is love

that can't be found in fictions. 

never doubt there's room for you,

your authenticity, your voice, to live. 

no place but everywhere, a space

homemade within the skin, a hidden

world where you are always allowed,

fully accepted, & loved unrestricted.

mistakes aren't defining & flaws are

beauty in the eyes of the worthy. 

tattoos are only decorative scars, 

same as all physical imperfections, 

mental differences, past experience, 

it's all just the ornamental ink of life.

telephone

we're all reduced to 

smaller than 

I AM.

an idea,

a role, 

a type, 

a function.

a means but

not an end. 

all our words 

matter less.

there are no

soul confrontations,

only others to

bounce our own

sounds back.

return, confirm,

congratulate. 

it's the essence 

of a game of

telephone

to distort 

every word.

interpret, reshape

into a thing that fits

what is expected, 

what is wanted. 

on both ends 

of the call.

flowers

my flowers are dead

crushed and rotting in a jar

just taking up space

I knew I'd kill them,

picked them months ago with no

water yet to give

petal by petal

each wilt under the knowledge

that I'm their owner

the dry spray of breath

betrays my expectations 

brittle and fallen

colors have faded

to an old & pale blood stain

marked with rejection

they know sometimes I

wish I'd never picked them, but

they're too parched to cry

oh, when will I learn

flowers only thrive when I

leave them in the earth

Lok Gweltz

the shuffle between keys,

birds, the echo of room

stir memories of oceans 

never seen, cool salt air 

never breathed, a rocky

French coast of delicious

gloom only visited for the 

length of a song, a dance

for lonely notes uniting

under his fingers

blood in the cut

the silence resonates 

louder lately,

paces through my body, 

bouncing limb 

to limb, into my very

nervous system, 

echoing the sound of

indefinite absence

it's a disquieting quiet

felt as starvation,

amplified by the effects of

memories, pills, time,

a resounding nothing

pounding rhythmic

while I hunger for

noise

back & forth

numbness follows from 

these contradictory states 

I occupy

overflowing,

indifference 

contentment,

resentment 

as if extreme emotions

could cancel each other 

completely

leave a blank 

space that grumbles

hungry

there's nothing to 

feed it that won't 

breed its opposite

neutralize

empty again

tonight

I'm filling this void

with velveeta

red

I'm an island of bone in a sea of 

blood slipping up my white shores,

washed with the stain of ruin, 

dragging the unwary under the 

heady iron waves of my blessed curse,

luring, conquering, sucking words 

of poets, songs of man into my 

inferno lungs & exhaling the smoke of 

this burning world into the 

faces of their ghosts

The Dreaming

I'm a consciousness in a 

void where the depths are 

safe. Each exchange is a 

private internal discussion

with selves of varying faces,

playing out disjointed scenes

to a nonsensical film with no

discernable start or conclusion.

This daily subjugation is welcomed,

embraced with eyes shut, held at

times with a desperation that only

follows a dry absence. I lay still,

begging at times for him to pull me

under, craving the descent into a

delicious sort of madness where I

create myself truthful & new, shed the 

exquisite corpse assembled from

distorted sight, misconceptions, & 

the partial observations of others.

I become energy.

I return to my source.

work

drained of everything & refilled

with noise & hunger, I'm so tired.

withdrawal settles into bones

an ache for a drug barely tasted

& I watch the dark corners for

scenarios. those shadows are

never as deep. the mannequins 

holding brooms, scattered paused

across the floor, are catching breath 

with me, inadvertently stopping time,

holding the moment until the dusty air

begins to tremble, unable to hold the

collective inner screams.

I'm the chairman of the bored

the rain has made its way

into my lungs, cloud cover

blocks the signal & I'm quiet

each car door slam, distant

dog bark, I'm smaller, further,

sinking into the floorboards

indifferent to this simulation,

the perceptual isolation of this

life, removed from all sense

absently chewing on reality, 

arbitrary social contracts, object

permanence, & my lower lip

cursing the homemade roadblocks

frustrating the paths to nirvana,

all the self-fulfilling incapacity

mostly I'm just bored, overthinking

the world, laying around & watching

the fucking Roku screensaver

awake

from routine to dream

this wanted lucidity

pours into spaces

between, 

spills down into 

empty crevices,

saturates with 

substance, 

filling, finding 

dark corners 

left to dust, 

greasing parts 

left to rust,

a flood of sweet

clarity washing

clean the doubts

from the trust

stream-of-thought benadryl haze

my thoughts have 

come untethered 

tonight, 

maybe it's the rain, 

the death, or just the 

lack of little death 

keeping me from 

seeing clearly, 

feeling clearly, 

or just having a 

normal fucking mind

but nothing is so 

simple anymore

nothing as transparent

as me, writing this

trite self-indulgent 

bullshit in place of 

forcing the things 

I promised,

because words are

hard when they're

expected.

wednesday afternoon depersonalization

everything keeps starting, 

stopping, stalling out from 

being pulled in five different 

directions, nothing seems real &

at times, I'm not even tangible 

until I make contact, don't 

exist without that pressure

the weight of another 

until then I'm only an idea

abstract, formless

a wisp of words and dream

ungrounded, watching my 

body float between worlds 

powerless

there's a phenomenon

which brings together

those who would ordinarily 

hide

the sudden shut down of

every distraction, every

convenience, the hum of 

power

they're in the yard now

is it just us, why is this

happening, when will it

end

I'm suddenly starving to

death, there wasn't enough

coffee, how long will this

last

the front rooms, illuminated,

dim then brighten with each 

passing cloud, the air so very

still

an hour has passed & I am certain

this is the end, or the start of the

inevitable zombie apocalypse, send

help

the restoration of our lives, sanity

is estimated for later this evening

DAMMIT, I'll have to shower in the 

dark

someday

**a poem found on my phone's notepad from 7/10/21**

one day I'd like to sit with

someone who knows

that I know that they know

and neither need articulate 

one day I'd like to laugh across a

beer or two without it 

already being my blood

just once, try mushrooms

and not lose my damn head

I'd like to wake up to a

beginning and not prepare for an end

I want to know the

feeling of untethered

connecting only with 

that which fulfills me

those who love me 

make my decisions without guilt

enter the unknown without fear

see my past without regret

imagine the future without dread

love without restraint

live without you

silent film

a slow & silent descent

see to the children

make dinner, wash the

dishes, slide down down

doors shut, eyes closed

rain starts, stops, only

falls for me, only falls

on me, appliances hum

no one is breathing,

hollow comments, 

formalities "it's raining 

again," "I'm so tired"

sit in the drizzle watching

cars pass, digest the quiet 

resting uneasy in the air,

a bland veil of solitude 

blood moon

robed in stained purity

I submit

helpless to this 

crimson satellite

dance blindly to the 

hum of raw life in my veins

under humid glow, she 

draws me close

slips silently into shadow

whispering darkly,

secret tales to 

restless souls

fog

that fog hanging under the moon

is just the smoke exhaled from my

string of spent luckies as I

sigh havoc into the night

it rained earlier & the streetlamp

must be catching mist in the trees,

it's creating glowing pinpoints, fairy

lights that glimmer with the wind

I can hear the North River, though

not visible in the dark, I can tell it's full,

hushing all other sound in a white noise

holding me in trance as I sit, just being

I could stay here till dawn this way

with the fog & the river & twinkle lights

keeping my secrets, surrounding me

with a mystic sense of knowing

space & time

I've turned on my

porch light, I suppose

that's all I can do

the key was left 

under the mat to

my wide open door

invitation extended to

what, I don't know,

space to speak aloud

room for thoughts to

convey outside of

easily mistook riddles

a place to just be

without funneling self into

accepted working form

just space & time to 

connect, no assumptions 

no expectations

the jennybot is malfunctioning

dear universe

please pull this heavy

fucking blanket off

I can't see enough

to make sense of

anything, the air is

just so close

everything happening

all at once, the noise

can't focus, can't care, my

breaker keeps tripping over

every mouth speaking

the sound of the TV

the dull temperature of the air

how can everything feel like

too much but also

nothing

angry beaches

flowing forward, a tide

(despite the world's 

ignorant rip current 

drawing back) 

containing strength as an 

ocean churning in love &

rage, bearers of existence & the 

weight of the entire deep,

rising as one wave, an

impregnable wall of tears

toppling the thieves 

threatening to steal the 

autonomy of the sea

downtime

here's some frustration

caught in an unknown

limbo, running out of

room, out of time

again with this

time & space

nonsense

(the absurdity of this 

neverending sea of

shitting turtles 

I have to deal with)

~in other news~

riddled with a vague

sense that I'm always

making up my own

dance to no music

(I just need a clear

enough song, a beat

some feet to step on

a hand on my back)

(also

fuck these turtles)

lovely lovely morning

storms, clouds

give way to an

after rain clarity,

vivid warmth of

leaves filtering light

into patterns on my

toes while I build

scenes in the sky

between sips of

coffee, humming 

all of me

why not take

all of me

That time I cried through an entire Tori Amos show

I let it all overflow

hiding it with my hair

tears from nearly 

finding the afterworld

in a Lincoln, 

from hearing her voice 

after so long, silent 

all these years &

found beyond 

so many different 

kinds of storms,

grateful for Precious Things

from clearer skies

Holy fuck, we're still alive??

tori wails her

siren song over

my town car speakers

under threat of

tornado

THREE WARNINGS!

TAKE SHELTER!

NOW!

through torrential

downpour

I cry, grip the wheel

& levitate out of myself

my potato copilot lighting

my smokes as we

Thelma & Louised

into the misty abyss

the end

was nigh

just some headspace

these thoughts 

they never

stray far before

I'm back here

throwing feelings

blowing wishes

into the wind

praying they find

their way back

this trust requested 

(never so 

readily given)

has grown

secret tendrils of

hope, before bound

now broken free from

their cynical restraints

silently offering 

all

well, damn

this goes only one way

for days, feel the

soft weight of all the 

thoughts

thoughts that I 

can't read

how did I ever have

you at a disadvantage?

I'm the one with

only my own words to

keep me company

lawless optimism

another soul

who had been down in it

has finally emerged

from their grave

smiling for the new days

despite all else going

unchanged, I received 

my fortune

fuck it

said through a clear

& beaming face

this nihilistic mantra

resonates deep

moving forward with no

trepidation, finding what

sweet chaos the

universe offers next

Fuck it!

we're all hurtling through this 

void, bouncing into one

another, there are no

absolutes, no certainty 

embracing our blindness

choosing to dance in this

dark room rather than

fumble & stumble terrified

FUCK IT!

a little ditty about anxiety

calming

eyes of reassurance

silly for needing that

confirmation

know I'm not just

daydreaming

sleepwalking through

these days left

eternally seeing through

corners of my eyes

now i can

(finally) 

sleep

hush, brain

when it's so

quiet

my sleepy anxious

head begins to

create its scenarios

fears I leaked out

more than was

comfortable 

(as I'm prone to do)

worries I'm seeing

what I want to see

I'll just settle

into my songs &

hope that these

doubts are just

weather 

where I want to be

anticipation of a

day away

has turned into

the glow that I'll

stay regardless

knowing that

nowhere else

do I overflow

beyond myself

sparkle

as I do in the

sanctuary of this

hidden place

meeting

the promise to

revisit all the

poems taken 

too soon

(I'll bathe in those

words until they

fill every

pore)

the thought

there is now an

after

that time

won't stop

once you're 

done

it was enough

tonight

cause to

sing of patience

thru the rain

on home

space cadet

in orbit 

rounding

rounding

eyes magnetized

to each pass

already feeling that

hard pull of gravity

waiting for you to

breathe in

my atmosphere

for the descent

the landing

for you to plant

a flag

or... your calendar

whichever

countdown to raleigh

she and piano

this redheaded love affair

straddling her bench

since age of thirteen

since what if I'm a mermaid

rolling round a box

I've been listening

weeping through me and a gun

screaming blood roses

breathful blanket girls

detuned high and wired keys

can't stop what's coming

I'll ride along side

where'd you put the keys gurl, it's

ginger ninja time

morning melodrama and BIRDS

sleep comes a 

crumb at a time

waking now to the

metal on metal song of

(whatever the hell that bird is

I'm not an ornithologist)

today will be a sleepwalk

morning has been

punctuated with 

ghosts

words who

died between

head and lips

haunting with

assumptions

& doubt

but mostly

it's just 

very loud

birds

4:35

once the thing was put

out there

(waves hand vaguely) 

it makes it so I'm 

seen

my eyes are finally 

caught watching, &

that visibility feels a bit

too revealing to wear

this dam wants to break

& flood the air with all these 

things I want to say

in its own time & space

I'm just not good at this

but I'm trying

frustration while I eat my sammich

I'm so damn bugged

and wary

they are everywhere

listening & watching

I know them, those

ears & mouths I

hardly understand

& so I stay mostly 

mute 

though so many

conversations hide

behind the dam

of my lips

words that will 

eventually

have to pass 

more than

one poem

at

a

time

this might hurt

I've toed the edge

hesitant but impatient 

trying to be safe

hiding my face

terrified of jumping

& not being caught

terrified of waiting

& missing my shot

it's a test of trust

letting myself fall

not knowing how

I will land

onto the rocks

broken amid the 

car parts, bottles

& cutlery

into the safety of

warm water

whole & dancing

in the waves

just let me enjoy

today 

the hope that

I'll survive

poem for the big fuckin leaver

my life has become this

endless loop of applying

stickers to shit no one needs &

dissociating to spanish music

while trying very hard not to

slice open my own fingers

which, I know, sounds like

party time

yet 

as long as I have this 

beautiful being

leaving me his words

riddles I can't fucking solve

picking trash from my hair

just sharing the same space

it's become

oddly

magical

*

some afternoon litter personification

there's a walmart bag

tumbleweeding down my street

that feels as if it should be going 

unnoticed but I see everything

like some silly American Beauty shit

casually hyperfocusing on

small moments & creating futures

where you goin, bag? 

he's moving with a free flowing purpose

towards main street, filling with wind

collapsing, reinflating like some little

rubbish sea creature, laying low for a

moment until a car stirs up his air &

sends him back on his garbage journey

he's early, purposely holding back

but she's already waiting for him under 

the bridge, a curvy little six pack ring,

loops stretched & broken, her newness 

long gone, but he's ripped in spots, too.

neither of them see these scars, only that

they're both of the same plastic

the greatest trash love story ever told

my thoughts whilst eating scrambled eggs

when I was younger all these

silly affirmations, mantras

  whatever

they made more sense

seemed,  I dunno 

hopeful

it's always darkest

before dawn

good things come to

those who wait

you're only given what

you can handle

welp

(eyeroll)

yeah

it's always darkest...

lately the dark has lasted

what feels like a polar night*,

(*yeah, I just googled that) 

& here I've been humming 

here comes the sun,

(it's been a long cold lonely winter) 

so hopeful, so ready for that dawn

I realize now that sometimes you just

gotta go wake the sun up yourself

good things come to those who wait.

bullshit.

if that were true I'd have it all by now.

all the things. 

no.

good things also come to

impatient assholes and I'm

starting to see where that quality 

might be a virtue.

sometimes you have to

yell for your waitress.

only given what I can handle

mm hmm. sure. right.

OR (hear me out) 

I'm just given what I'm given

which is really not even given,

shit just happens

I can either handle it or not

which is entirely up to me because the

universe isn't this benevolent force

handing me things it thinks I can hold.

y'know what

fuck platitudes 

like the weather

mother's mourning is dusking the 

afternoon sky, worried, aching

I can hear her breaking

her rumbles of impending collapse 

her clouds brimming, exhausted

I feel my own well overflowing 

thunder cracking within

her first few drops wet my skin

mingle with my own, we

cry together into my coffee

just mad at being mad at nothing

today I want to make myself

so small

outwardly, inwardly

microscopic

existence is uncomfortable

in this moment

the absence of sound is as

unbearable as noise

it angers me

just being noticed, sitting

idle in a dark & quiet room

scowling at corporeal form

doing, feeling, anything, 

pulls all energy, every breath

from this absurdly awkward 

space-taking-up vehicle

I'm annoyed at how

melodramatic this all feels

I was large and looming just

yesterday, unashamedly THERE

I'm realizing this is frustration with

time & space as a whole, 

bodies & life & thought & feeling &

that stink bug that won't fucking land

oh my god bug JUST LAND ALREADY

dancing barefoot

I float a little when Patti

sings the last bit over and over, my 

hair feels longer, wilder,

heart beats stronger

repeating along in its rhythm her

spoken word, chanting her double

meanings, love and death until

there is no boundary anymore and

I am now that woman

falling

coffee with Herbert

two tired moms smoke

sighing on the boardwalk

jeans rolled midcalf, wet feet

shoved into sandy flipflops from

prancing like idiots in the cold

April waves of the Atlantic

under the pink moon

remote control car skitters past and

I say, that's cool dude

just walking your little car

the kids are all seven floors up

faces full of phones

missing the first night but

I'm feeling so free and

chicho's has a man with a guitar

singing men at work

we suck down seven dollar drinks

realizing we're probably the only ones 

old enough in this room to 

know the lyrics

I lie down, dream these words

eat starbursts with a man in my dream

while watching him write poetry in the

corner chair, asking the story of my life

he's gone by morning

the moms drink coffee 

overlooking the ocean

name the stray sandy sock lying

forgotten at the edge of the boardwalk

Herbert.

Ella, Billie, and Rose

skies are clear in me

sparkling, scatting with Ella

April in Paris

spilling my coffee

dancing through the kitchen to

Me, Myself, and I

giggles and chee-chee

you're much sweeter, goodness knows

Honeysuckle Rose

lunchtime jibber jabber

I sit in my car

9:42

(hey, 42 is a sign)

(WHY AM I ALWAYS LOOKING FOR SIGNS)

watching the blink of the 

light outside the cafeteria 

flash like morse code

attempting to decrypt

as if this is a message from the

universe for me,

an oracle answer to

questions I'm afraid to think

now my 

SERVICE ENGINE SOON

light has (again) lit up

orange, bold, urgent

(for once)

I don't even care,

there's too much

depth in this night

(for once)

I don't even need to 

force myself to 

stay

no place

the weather is all wrong

to where I can't sit and

smoke on the front steps without

feeling the cold damp right through me

so I sit stagnant, sighing, crumbling

read some Raymond Carver and

share the couch with the man I ended

things with but still can't untangle from

he's curled in the fetal position, taking up

more than half, farting

still wearing a jacket and shoes

I'd rather not share anything anymore

I'd rather have a couch to myself

in a place that's mine

I can't claim anything

I'm stuck with a placelessness and a

headache from all the alcohol I said

I wouldn't drink and I want to throw

my phone into the North River and

maybe myself, too, sometimes

some people are just born...uhhh...dead.

I've come to the conclusion 

that there are those that were just 

born old, just tired dusty shells

resembling humans but

who appear never to have experienced joy

wrapped up in this illusion of

business, politics, finances, religion

money money money

amassing the most material shit

gotta get more, get ahead

gotta be better than, holier

who don't even smile at a good

that's what she said

never get lost in a song or

write their heart's passion and pain

never paint their dreams

i can't even imagine how that happens

where they programmed?

neglected?

are some people just inherently boring? 

i grieve for the gray souls

who can't see past the ride

the rules of this game to notice

all this life, all this beauty

music, art, poetry, humor

LOVE

those who live without

by choice

they're already dead.

things I'm quite sure that are most likely probably universal. maybe. who knows.

we all have old scars or

raw trauma, healing

it's hard to see another's wounds when you're still actively bleeding from your own

this isn't selfishness

this isn't neglect

this is survival

everyone is bleeding

we're all mind reading or

misreading or

inventing inner lives for

those inaccessible 

searching for that last puzzle piece

without knowing the whole picture or

amount of pieces still missing

we all wonder if we're doing this right

we're same enough

that the struggle is universal

but foreign enough that we 

still struggle

yeah,

I might be over generalizing here but

I don't think so

Dealing with shit. Poorly.

everything

everyone

is 

ultimately

unknowable

this is a harrowing little

bean of knowledge

lodged deep and festering

that will never be argued away

it itches

how can anyone tell

what is actual

what's important 

it's easy to just

let things fall

societal norms

the keeping of time

how many sick days left

how many days sober

oil in my car 

credit reports

divorce papers

trivial things filling and filling

this already overflowing cup of

musty-old relentless tedium

drinking helped, I thought

soaking in the mess I had

conjured, a stew of

disappointment 

rejection 

all the chaos of the world.

nope. 

nope, that made it worse. 

sleep has become the only 

reprieve from the dead ends

nevers, the everyday chorus of

     do I matter

my voice is lost in the noise

I just 

close my eyes

shake my etch a sketch life and

start over

dream dance

my numb feet

still asleep

push into the bed

solid on your ground

and dancing

with tip toes to make up

imagined distance, height

it's a heavy thing to

stop and start

carry through the blue

snow quiet world

when my dream left off

so warm

ode to all the terrible artists i still love

almost every artist

i loved growing up

has disappointed me 

those aren't my words

but it's a theme

I've noticed

finding out this writer

that rock star

such and such actor

is

was

human

human

makes mistakes

questionable ethics

were young once

struggled with 

mental illness

substance abuse

hard influences

everyone has had darkness

sorry but

the ones you haven't already

turned your backs on

the ones who've died

seemingly saints

were just better at hiding

their filth

their humanity

no one should have to carry

every fucking mistake

forever.