You’ve got your mother’s hatred
And your father’s cold desire
The unquenchable thirst for self satisfaction
Frowning in the sunlight
You have to smile and you can’t cross your arms. Do you think it’s “this place” that we really can’t take or we’re just blaming space because it’s out there?
Not in here, in my darkness, cavernous consciousness, wakeful anguish
I saw it happening
And I honestly don’t know what you did, or what you said, or what I actually wanted
Just to follow, just to be led, to be held, to be joined, to be grounded in physical existence
This is the part of the story they’ll look back and say
This is what made her human
I am human, I am not a dream, not a fantasy, not a part time partnership
Fuck your apathy
I want to hear everything you have to say.
Recovery is just an excuse to talk about yourself
And life gets boring when you stop thinking stop dreaming stop seeking redemption from those who wronged you
Do you think they know they wronged me?
I think about what he did
Between the night and the day
The midnight sounds
Confirming what I thought
I was there
I love all of you
And I observe it, occupy it, disown it, but remain laced in your bonde dust buried in your ear ducts
I’ll always be there for you
Steering you, haunting you, folded into your dark memories, dry scars, the dead ladybugs that draped the window sill in the room that looked like a silo in the neighborhood that felt like a farm down 10 different roads in another time zone
I was there but I didn’t want to be
You get so old you realize the people who died young would have been dead anyway
I am a non-practicing writer
Like the non-practicing Catholics who attend church on Christmas and Easter
But sometimes not Christmas, when the weather is bad
And sometimes not Easter, when mass conflicts with brunch reservations
But always must attend the baptisms and funerals
And sometimes attend the weddings, so they can pretend to be happy for the new couple and whisper about how off-white her dress is and bite their lips when Father says, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Like it’s so peaceful, holding in all that unrequited love.
But now the bells aren’t ringing and I wonder if you saw my face before you kissed her and I wonder why you said you loved me six months ago – half a year before you took your sacred vow
And now I am alone and the men are gone and not answering and my hair is greasy and my face is shiny and my hands are sticky and I pick up my pen and write to no one.
If you’re calling to break up with me, can you hang up and do it tomorrow?
I am a little hungover, I can taste vodka and vomit in my throat and the first thing I read this morning was a message from an ex-boyfriend telling me he doesn’t love me anymore
And my body is damp and with sweat and the sheets are a tangled mess and my glasses are beyond my reach and I smell like stale smoke and I’ve smoked all my cigarettes and the bottom of my feet are gray and chapped and my lips are dry and cracked and did I mention he doesn’t love me anymore?
So if you’re calling to break up with me, call again tomorrow.
Help me, I’ve disconnected
But I still see you, hear you, feel you, is that you? Who are you?
Just a warm blanket, just the illusion of security just a promise to connect my head to my heart
This lost art
Of love actual love, will catch up to this cat and mouse contest, undo the score you kept
Do you want to win this badly?
Will you settle for a draw?
I just like to play, I like the pursuit
I like longing for you, whoever you were, here you are, my own self constructed entity to tease, to hide, to ignore, to repeat
I know you’re in there
You showed me once, this enchanted delusion, false conclusion, you promised me
Unbinding words, unclear terms
I knew it all along, I should have stopped you
I am a comet crashing, dismissed from the cosmic realm, cursed to an earthly end. I fall, head over feet in a crumpled mass, my crater is my only home.
How long can I hide amongst the living when I’m most certainly already dead?
Cold blood pumps through crippled veins. I walk, I breathe, it’s just autonomy. Unplug me so I am not forced to exist like this. I’m never going to get better, this is always who I’m going to be. If my heart’s stopped how does the world keep spinning? What axis supports this earth, what vertebrate is so strong it can’t be broken? I want to be broken, I want to be taken apart, I want them to take my little pieces and scatter them in your doorway, in your year, on your bed – everywhere you’ve made me feel complete.
Dismantle me, unhinge my bones and grind me to dust, so airy, it floats effortlessly in the wind
It’s not enough to remember me
Breathe me, let me settle on your skin like a grimy insoluble film, an eternal mourning veil. I will drown you in my remains, I will envelope your exterior and infiltrate your interior like viral lurid dream
While the unforgivable world takes ever predictable returns on an axis so unwavering and cold
How can life go on – how can you live breathing rancid loaded air, walking over shallow graves?
I like to watch
I like to instigate, facilitate, then walk away.
Feel the anguish that you feel when you have to get over the urge
I like to set it up and watch it fall
No direct demolition, I like to chip away slowly at rusted links until I break the chain.
What if we explored this connection cautiously?
No implications, my invitation, your treat.
You meet me there, I’ll go in first, save you a seat, in the corner, no one knows me here, only you and me and a shot and a beer and your discretion, shared secrecy
I don’t like getting stood up
And there I was up late, on a Saturday night in America, no notifications, no intimacy, red wine, low heat, fighting cold temperatures and I realized no matter how deep I dig and try to take root at the end of the day
I am alone with my accomplishments
The priest and the rockstar and the mentor that should have stayed a teacher except for that cigarette you shared in the parking lot that one time, but I had to say something
I can never say nothing.
I wonder if that’s just me and if you love me because of it or despite it and if other people feel this profound sadness and don’t mind it
And order lunch and go to bed early, so they can get up and job before the commute bumper to bumper but it’s nice when I’m stopped under that one billboard plastered on another old brick building either a bar or a homeless shelter
And I see you in the neat glass of Maker’s Mark with the clever, sexual tagline, not clever enough to remember the diction, but I do remember that feeling
And I continue to seek it
I want revolution
I want you to rush in, like you’ve been counting down the days, the hours, the steps up the stairs, down the hall, don’t knock, open up, march in, with a list of demands, points of contention, keep your conviction,
Fight for it, defend it, praise it, parade it, bear it on your crest, wave its flag, pray to its honor
There is so much to see outside of your
“Big Week” don’t just sleep
The world is changing and the dog got in a fight with a stray cat and it’s finally above freezing and I saw the sun today
I felt it on my few bare extremities like the intensity of touch of someone you haven’t seen in awhile still feels like you never left, until you leave again, because you have to. After all,
Satisfaction is the death of desire
I closed the gallery but the pictures still circulate
Shades of my past self in the shadows
Do they know what I did?
The wrinkles deepend, they scar over, and blend into my flesh, callosu contour
I still see you in the dark, sitting at the edge of my head, hands over your face, like you used to when you lamented and apologized
Why couldn’t I forvie?
And just let you live, and our demons could cohabit the closet and light up the darkness and bridge our hearts, but I had to win I had to leave first, no one wants to be left, I closed the doors. Tuned in the keys
But someone broke in and scattered the art and there you are…