Tuesday, January 22, 2013



Take the train
fly off the handle
I don’t care how you do it
Just get here
Everything is so important
I’m telling you to fucking do it
because the years make gaps
In my teeth
Marked with poison ivy
I have random heart palpitations
I’m not sure if any of this is fair
Pains in your chest
Go see a doctor
Life is too fragile
If I could do it over
I wouldn’t
It was perfect then
But now is a has-been
Have I ever tried to be less temperamental?
Have I ever rode the back
of a white horse
down to the court house
Perhaps in dreams I said, “Let them eat cake”
A real B-movie version of Marie Antoinette
But mostly I cried
Because every bump in the road
Was the apocalypse
Every chip in my nail
Was a chip in my shoulder
Every highway sign gave me
A panic attack which could later
Be traced to my time-of-death
I’m sure no coroner would even bother…

In the living room—
Yellow light shines
On cigarette stained walls
You click click click
With your thumb…
Joystick your way to
Beating a level
As I thumb my way to your heart
Click keys with the precision
Of a typist at an ad agency
But what I write is even
Less important
Days slide into each other
Gloomy or grey
At times I have contemplated
The inevitability of everything
The scenes I can unfold
Like origami and remember
Just how to fold it the same way
All over again
The scenes we play out
The roles I have memorized
And the lines like Hersey wrappers
Like gum wrappers with some girl’s
Name and phone number written on
Them in loopy cursive
We unfold and re-fold again
Three-fold is the rule
I’m not sure the religion
I have folded many holy things
On days other than Sundays
I am also very superstitious
But basically just a snot-nosed kid
Who gets overemotionalmelodramatic
When things don’t go my way.

I took a class on grammar and punctuation.
It reminded me about important issues
Such as the proper use of a semi-colon
And a dependant clause.
I still don’t know how to punctuate us
I’m not sure if it should be a comma
Or a conjunction…and….
Or maybe just an ellipses
You …
I wish sometimes that you were ugly
So I could make less shallow decisions
Your eyes paralyze me
You are my wet dream from when I was sixteen
And my regression at 25
And now I’m just trying to get tough:
Leather jacket, red nailpolish, drive-fast,
All night, smoker’s voice and the body of a
But who was that girl in the graveyard
With the blue balloon
And is her voice fading to a
When you were inside me
I was thinking about a center
Opening up
Not all the fake façade shit we
Pretend is important
No one cares if you owned 12 pairs
Of Nikes when you are dead.
I know my voice, a chalking hallow
Of a steel drum,
The perfect needle scratch against
The thread that follows the needle
The blood which precedes
I need more than this language to get through to you
I need more than syllables and
question marks and
subjects and
I need more than Freudian memories
And fatalistic delusions
I need more than fear to light a match under me
A certain roar from the tongue of God
I need to drive far without remembering where I am going

Without the sense to turn-back around.

1 comment:

KM said...

that is serious!