- a new but old one written in a particularly sad, depressed time


I was cycling, hard
disregulated, disembobulated
evil-spell caught
and caught up in the stream
of negativity
that the broken faucet
in my mind
occasionally spurts and spews

i said
"why would anyone love me?
why would anyone want to spend time with me?
when i'm probably just going
to off myself by the time i'm 35 anyway"
and it startled us both
a psychic hand over my mouth
i couldn't back-peddle
and the words fell to the ether

we both pondered the truth
the perception, the power of the
self-fulfilled prophecy
and returned the old fear
that my mind is going to kill me
that my heart is going to splinter
and shattered and slice everything inside
the feeling that hyde will plunge
a sharpened letter opener
deep into jeckyl's aorta
or vice versa
in order to save the world

i laid my head on the desk
and the depressed exhausting returned
a phone call, a text, a reassuring hand on the shoulder
it'll pass, it always does
into inner chambers i retreat and sleep
waiting for the time i open my eyes
and find the dawn has broken
the fever has disapated
and I am back to me again

sometimes i think
i don't give a shit about other people
most don't interest me
most annoy me
and in my head i constantly bitterly judge
i think of my friend
describing his evil, cunty landlord
"I just don't think she's ever been happy"
and I cringe
hope someday that won't be me
barking at my dogs at 6 am
mowing the lawn before others wake
just to know that i put a dent
in their perhaps perfect mornings

saw a young couple
laughing, smiling, absorbing sun
pushing a new baby stroller
down watts street
blissfully ignoring
unaware
of the half-mile long length
of cars lined up for the holland
where i sat
watching
and crying

on the other side of the galaxy
things twine, twist, twice-rebound
flattening and fattening
crashing and exhausting
cat-calling and dreaming of
lost childhood best friends
foot long hot dogs
and purple balloons set to the breeze

my mama says times square
reminds her of the gouverneur fair
and i can't help but laugh
she says guinness tastes like
cold, bitter coffee
i giggle, but can't help but agree

and on the other side of the galaxy
we can't see the end
even with hubbles and trillions spent
we can't see the edges
because time and space are relative
and without an observer, without perception
it all curls back on itself, it bends
into tightly curved tendrils
past, present, future end
and i'll suddenly understand
the series finale of lost

:)

i tried to explain to you
one breathless morning
that it's like waking up from a spell

but kissless
and without prince charming

Like someone opens a valve
and the steam streaks out
whistling, highpitched, and screaming

then the wilting
the shaking of the head

it's like opening your eyes
to a psychological hangover
and not remember the night before

it's finding mr. hyde's ticket stub
in your dr. jeckyl wallet
a blood stained playbill
a bullet lodged in your shoe

great
if only
in my own mind

loved
if only
in distant hearts

i drive to the lake
to the center of cornered towns
past houses where you don't live
and where I can't sleep
anymore

cigarettes on the back of my tongue
razorblade barbs on my chin
paintless nails
suitcases of yesterday
strapped to my back
a pack
mule

forcing exuberance
and most other gestures
and emotions
that will miss your gaze
once again

up before the sun
awakened to dawning birds
i peer out into the twilight
making out the pink flowers in the garden
the white fogline of the early road
wondering where that distance owl rests
and whose bed you fell into tonight

you don't read the words i write for you
you are ignorant to the bliss, the depth, the turbulence
i am not worth a double click, an opened book
loved but not loved, pages not turned
you don't have time or gravitation to perchance
and i consider return to my disturbed slumber