It’s enough to pass the time.

I’ve been lonely lately and it’s probably just a phase. Or not. We’ll see I guess. Sometimes I wonder if and when it will all end. I guess I want to know if I’ll be happy when it’s all said and done.

Today I’m going downtown to walk around. Sometimes I do this to feel something. I love the feeling of staring up at a tall building. Almost like thinking this thing could topple over and end so many lives. Now that’s power. I think I may fall down sometime from looking straight up at a building with my head cocked awkwardly. But mostly my neck hurts from the strain so I give myself a break from looking.

What I really come downtown for is the people. The gob’s of people walking to and fro at paces unheard of in a monastery. I think these people will die from stress. But then again, it’s a stressful world we live in. Sigh, I want to help these people breathe. Again, I realize most of the time I don’t know how to breathe. Hence the walking downtown.

I let people brush past me because in these moments I feel close to someone. I know it sounds creepy or bizarre even. But honestly, I’m very lonely. So lonely that I don’t eat at home because I’m afraid I’ll choke on my food and no one will save me. Trust me, I’ve thought about letting that happen numerous times. I couldn’t go out that way though. People would say things like “That poor guy never had a chance…Think he had anyone?”

The answer is no. No I don’t have anybody but it’s okay because…well, I don’t know. Another person bumps into me because they were texting on their Blackberry. He gives me a disgusted look and mouths something. I imagined him saying “Go to a homeless shelter you addict.” People are pretty cruel but I try to think the best of people.

I’d like to say days like this help me to feel alive but honestly I don’t know sometimes. It’s difficult because I don’t have much to compare it to. It’s not that I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know I’m depressed. And I know I need help. But I’m not ready.

I miss my older brother because he would know what to do. He used to help me all the time when I would have a problem. He’d say things like “You know something, people suck Kenny, they really do…but don’t lose hope man.” Or “Little bro, you really need to grow a pair because I wont always be there to protect ya.” He would always lightly punch me after one of these sayings. My brother really cared about me. My poor parents are separated because of him. Neither of them seemed to remember I was still alive.

The thing is I don’t really want people to feel sorry for me. I know people have it a lot worse than me. I guess a lot of those people feel pretty bad too. Sigh, I wish there was a group for those type of people. Maybe we could help each other.

For now I stare up at buildings that touch the clouds and think about how I’m alive and breathing today. Maybe that’s enough… for today.

 

please remember.

Do you remember…

The store on the corner of broad and high where we used to kick it? Straight up you and I every summer we’d lay in the street late at night waiting for cars to run us over trying to feel alive. Talking about never getting old and wishing our parents would stop fighting. That silly little corner store where I bought us our first pack of cigs with my brothers ID. Shit, the times we had. I remember tasting that night air and thinking these moments wont last forever.

5 years later and here we are. Middle of the friggin’ road. Swearing, crying, kissing, holding, and squeezing. Promising forever.

Those  window panes stained with our face smears. Pepsi machine. Old Harry Thomas the clerk. That first time we held hands in public.

Our love is like no other.

west coast will never tie me down.

I walked into the house not knowing what I was going to say. She looked so lonely, so neglected. She slowly raised her head up while maintaining a stupor as she gazed at me… Glossy eyes.

“I…”

“Dont. Just leave.”

She meant it too.

I walked over and planted a kiss on the top of her forehead. Said I would always love her.  She pushed me away, but I didnt fight her.

West Coast and big dreams.

i have never been wide awake.

It’s not right to force it. Don’t try to fabricate a story. We are who we are.

We met up. We made out. We said goodbye at some point.

That was that. She’s just that girl. I am just that guy.

Coastlines used to steal all our nights.

French kissing was not vulgar. It was hella tight.

Cuddling wasn’t a necessity. It was a commodity.

Luring them in with a margarita wasn’t crucial.

Just leave that up to the volcano exploding sunsets.

She couldn’t explain it. Neither could I.

We are who we are.

We watched the sunset intertwined, and that was Cali.

I still have the souvenirs.

I’m closer than I think.

It’s…

a full moon tonight and it all seems to come alive before my eyes. I’m walking around outside by 5th and Washington close to the Orange Wheel Tavern. There is this couple who stumbles out of the bar laughing with not a care in the world. The woman seems clingy or at least when she drinks. Connected at the hip like they were on their own little private island. She playfully kisses his cheek and they call for a taxi. They flag one down and to my dismay leave me alone again. O’ how entertained we have to be. What would it be like to exist in a world without people, god that sounds awful.

As I’m walking I try not to think about my job, girlfriend, or friends. I just keep looking up into the starry night thinking incomplete thoughts about Van Gogh and traveling. It’s become crucial for me to take these night walks. Almost, therapeutic. Some people go for drives, but I’m currently boycotting gas prices. It’s easy to not do things that cost money. I sometimes wonder if I create my own mind vacations. There I am in London chasing my shadow amongst the cathedrals. Then,  its me again in Egypt this time riding bareback on a camel. Never again. I chuckle looking around.

You ever smile up into a night sky? I’m doing it right now and its funny. It’s like I’m trying to get somebody up in the atmosphere to recognize how genuinely happy I am in this very moment. The key is to never take yourself seriously. I arrive back home. Sigh, fisher price basketball and fort building in the morning.

Door hinges.

Crazy.

I walked outside thinking I could take on Monday. Before the sun could say hello I was right back inside, underneath my cozy sheets.

I tried Tuesday and my alarm wouldnt stop snoozing.

Wednesday, I had three voicemails. I deleted them right away. My sister stopped by my apartment dropping off a casserole. She said she would have stayed but, ya know.

Wednesday night, I drank a little and called my friend Stevie. We talked about politics, and the price of gas. He is really intelligent and makes me feel inferior. But, I still have my views and Stevie is the closest thing I have to a friend. He always keeps me up to date on his latest essay. He’s applying to Harvard and Yale.

Thursday. I hate Thursdays. I actually make it to my 11:30 class. It’s the worst class of all time. Professional business writing with a Chinese speaking professor. The only reason I am here is to take the final. Literally I have not shown up but for two classes. The first, the last.

Thursday afternoon. I go see my shrink. I sit there while she probes into my life while I offer her little to no explanation of my recent behavior. I am what they call a resistant client. My mom. I promised my mom I would go. She said, it’s the least I could do. My mom’s real supportive, honest. Sometimes, I think I’ll get better just because of her.

Friday-Sunday. I write. Mostly about how much I hate America, Wall-mart, politics, jobs, money and college. Occasionally, I write a poem to show my mom I’ve made some progress. I’m not depressed. I’m just, just not living the “dream.” I talk to God on Sunday. Then I call Stevie. I ask him every Sunday what he thinks about God or religion. He tells me I need to smoke weed. He’s probably right.

I won a short story contest recently, and with the winnings I drove my car around aimlessly wasting precious gas to prove a point.

Sunday night. The brink. Mondays coming. I try very hard to psych myself up for Mondays. I can hear whispers from my own mouth “just buy into America.”

It’s Monday again. Hope is at my door. I just can’t seem to accept her.

living on, under 6 ft.

Some day im goin’ to get out of this town. And when I do I’ll forget about how many times you wanted to drown my sorry ass.

We used to fool around near Jackson crossing on the west side of Lancashire. I remember specifically the time you told me you didn’t want to grow up. I laughed and told you to drink some more, you were such a sap. But you’d go on…You said “You ever think about closing your eyes for good?” And id just laugh. Never taken it in for what it was worth. You said “I don’t think I can…” I’d interrupt with something stupid like “be any more of pitcher!” You’d crack a smile and say “forget about it, ya rat bastard.”

That time you punched me harder than usual. I shoulda taken you more seriously. Seems you were really going through some stuff. Tellya what, its odd not knowing your best friend is messed up when ya hang with um all the time.

People tell me there are signs that tip ya off about that kinda stuff. Back then though, all I cared about was getting high with my buddy and shooting off a couple with the local talent if ya know what I mean.

Remember that one guy who stumbled upon us out when we were in the abandoned train car? He was whistling and singing and just about toppling over. When he did fall he laughed and smiled at us. Told us it was funny to be in America. He said “this countries got all ya need!”  I think about your reaction now and see how scared you were. Back then, I was bustin gut and sucking up as much free air as I could. Believe I even tried to reason with ya to laugh about it. Never knew your old man was a drunk. I mean, I knew he drank, but just not how much and how it affected you. Figured ya drank because it was cool. Medicate, only truth you knew.

Well,  guess Ima make something of my life when I leave our stomping ground. You were always tellin me I had good qualities to become something. Said things like “Imagine the world you could access outta this town my man?”  Dont know fully why ya did what ya did. All I know is you really woke me up, and for that, I suppose I owe ya, ya…bastard.

 

 

all things go. all things go.

When I see this window of opportunity closing right before my eyes I always wonder why it has to come at such a crossroads. Literally I want everything but I can only have this or that.

I am getting tired of the chase and games we play to win our lovers heart. Honest, I am going to be single soon and its going to kill me. We’ve both been slowly drifting a part. She seems to be more okay with it than me. It’s fine though because I’m going to go to Chicago and take that city all in. We technically arent dating, we just left it up on Facebook for the past 3 months to avoid all the commotion. Our closest friends know.

Being an adult has to be better than this, right? Serious matters and no bull shit…hmm.

Theres this girl I met the other day in one of my classes who could be just like me. I’m certain she’s the female version of me. We mesh together so well but because the timing is off it doesn’t seem plausible to pursue it. Plus, I am a musician who can’t be tied down. Dang, I’m all over the place.

This new girl and I stayed up late shooting the bull and whispering our dreams for the future. She captivates my attention every time she speaks, which is hard to accomplish. Usually, I’m thinking about how I can get into this girls pants. It’s wild how she talks though. She’s got her bottles in a row or yeah, ya know what im sayin. Says things like “goin to graduate and go to a foreign country and save the world” and of course “get married and have babies with the man of my dreams.” I laugh at this part. What a crock of shit the whole “man of my dreams” thing. She punches me in the arm and tells me one day I’ll see what she’s talking about. It’s not like I havent heard this all before, it’s just the way in which she relays it to me. She’s so damn determined and devoted. Why she’s even having this deep convo with me is beyond my comprehension.

Her words “You interest me, man.”

Chicks. Bad boy mysterious type. I guess, Chicago is still on my mind. I shouldn’t have met this chick. What if I let her screw with my mind and I write songs about her and I fall for this broad. This cannot happen.

I whisper to her “Im crazy into this convo, have you ever thought about road trippin?”

She smiles in this awe stupor that kills me. Chicago bound and stupid as ever.

 

motion.

Sometimes I leave the light on.

When you and I walked together we rarely spoke. It was magical, but very intentional. I listened and felt very close to you.

I saw things I cant explain too well.

The other day we tried to put me back together but I just kept coming apart. Dont give up on me, please.

Wild love. Crash, crash. You make my head spin and my heart twist. I refuse to grow numb in this zombie world.

I promise to understand. Childhood wonder.

 

fire-keeper.

The fire started small and then exploded through the house. I watched my material possessions fade away. I sat outside on a small grassy knoll until I heard sirens.  My book bag felt light and I knew I would be on the run for a while. A smile broadened on my face. This was how it felt to be alive. I swear to god Im over corporate America.

I gave away my dog and closed down my bank accounts a few weeks back.  My house will look like a simple stove fire. They will investigate for a little while and try to contact me. I wont be available.  For the next few weeks Im going to simply not exist. I need this desperately if I am to maintain my sanity. Sure, burning down my own house may seem insane but honestly, its just a house with “things” in it. I wasnt happy if ya really must know. The thing about my life is most people would envy it. Its the cookie cutter American dream life.  Only thing missing is a wife and kids. I had the house with the picket fence, a man’s best friend, a good paying job, and a nice car. It was the routine that got to me. I would wake up, go to work, get home, eat a microwave dinner,  watch some tv, play with the dog, go to bed, and wake up and do it all over again. I know what you are thinking…where is the wife? the friends?

The wife never existed. The illusion of a wife did however. I was with a girl for 2 years and we got engaged. She cheated on me and then told me she was leaving me because I was emotionally unavailable for her. After that I just assumed I was terrible at the whole love thing. To tellya the truth, I only dated her and asked her to marry me because thats what i was told growing up you were supposed to do. My entire life Ive been listening to other people tell me what to do, who to be, and how to be. Well, today, that all ended. O, I almost forgot, the only friends I had were lost when I started dating her. Someone told me that happens a lot as well.

Today I will climb a tree and watch my past burn to the ground while I help to keep firefighter jobs secure. Tomorrow I will try to find myself.

let her die.

I never thought about her dying.

I thought about her smell. Lilies and lavender. Skin lathered in vanilla bean.

She made saying goodnight impossible.

My heart is beating too fast.

Did she notice me in the crowd or was I just the annoying guy she got used to.

Under the tree we carved each other something special.

She let me lay beside her, never intertwined.

She put her finger to my lips and kissed me like no other girl had.

She said things like,

“Wait for it. I will make it worth your while. You might get lucky some day.”

Shes gone now.

The tree still remains.

let her die, let her die.

I cant, I wont.

hello, its going too fast. stone me tender.

a drag here,

a drag there.

give me a note, and I’ll give you soul.

I’m scared of 22.

I’m heading to Chicago with a few things tucked in a bag.

dreams…

carrying the craft with a couple of chords.

I let my fingers glide down the strings and I make illusions become reality.

I stick to blow and heart, that’s what got Dylan famous.

now, it consumes me.

inner monologue, she thought.

it’s a nightmare watching you eat like you have all the time in the world.

you sit there contemplating when you will leave tonight.  I am suddenly overcome by fear and want you to leave as soon as dinner is over with.

I’m the idiot for insisting on you eating with me. I could have went out for sushi. But, the thought of    company was soothing to my “supposed” lonely soul. You, well…I guess could make me feel a little loved? Nah. Love makes me want to puke. Keep your candy hearts and flowers that die in a week.

I see the way you gaze into my eyes. How can you do that, just undress me with your eyes.

I think it would feel better if you would stay, I guess.

He’s not that bad. He has a beard…I guess you could call it that. He told me I was special and I wasn’t like all those other girls he had been with. He makes me feel good. Good is okay, right?

I hate how he pushes my hair out of my face.

He wants to kiss me, I just know it. I want to cuddle and feel secure. Could we just lay in bed intertwined? I want contact, just not contact.

His half-beard does makes me feel like I’m with a man, not a boy. What happens after dinner? Do I ask him to watch a movie? I want him to know I am going to be okay if he just goes home after dinner. He makes me nervous.

He told me he wanted to take me on a walk. I hate him now. Excuse me, mars wants their alien back.

He’s perfect, which means he’s really the devil. Gah, why can’t I just try it out. I’ll just put 45% into it. No, that’s stupid.

“Would you like to have dinner again with me?” he asked after their walk.

She stared at him, and looked really hard into his eyes and asked him:

“Love sucks, are you any good at it?”

Se-ve xlo. <3

Readers note: This story has curse words only to put the characters correctly in their elements. This is a literary tool and not an outlet for me to have the chance to curse in a story.

We got lost in the moment and she took off my clothes only to her surprise did she find my boxers to be that of “spongebob squarepants.” She giggled. I looked at her and asked her if this was her first time. She looked at me with innocent eyes and sighed. I knew she wasn’t a virgin. It didn’t really bother me.

Sweat rolled off my brow. I couldn’t help but think of the others she had been with. I wanted to ask her how I did, but I didn’t. I paused, she smiled. I was worried. She took my hand and placed it upon her breast to feel her heartbeat. I died in that moment.

We did it again.

The sheets smelled of sex and sweat. My parents weren’t coming home for a while and I wanted to fix her something to eat. She was already in the bathroom taking a shower. I thought about joining her, then decided against it. While she was in the shower I couldn’t help but let out a squeal to celebrate what had just taken place. I loved her. Wait, what the hell. I decided to laugh that thought off.

As she opened up the bathroom door she looked at me with satisfaction. She brushed up against me and kissed my cheek. Shivers and goose bumps, all up and down my body. I closed my eyes as she got dressed. She didn’t ask me why I closed my eyes. Hell, I didn’t even know. It was broad daylight and you could hear kids outside playing in the summer heat. All I could think about was having sex again.

I started to fix some eggs. This was the only thing I knew how to make. Pathetic, I know. She loved it though. She ate quickly. It made me nervous. After breakfast she told me she would be busy for the next couple of days. I paused, she smiled. She told me she was only joking and that she would see me later on that night. My heart came back to my chest. I told her I didn’t appreciate the joke, but before I could finish the sentence she was halfway out the door. I called after her telling her I would call her later.

I called for 4 times. She didn’t answer. What did I do? I called her again. Damn voice mail. Couple days passed and I didn’t hear from her. My heart was at my ankles. I didn’t eat. I rarely slept. I tossed and turned playing back the day we had sex for the first time over and over again. Nothing made sense. All I remembered were good things.

She called me three days later.

“I’m really fucked up Sam, I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my past I’m not proud of. You scared me because you treated me different than the other guys I had been with. I wanted that day to be special for you and I know it was. It really scared me though. I know you probably don’t want to hear any of this but if you can handle my shit then maybe we could give this a shot? And don’t give me this ‘its too late’ shit. I saw when you closed your eyes while I dressed. I know you wanted to take a shower with me. I know where your heart is, pick it back up and come kiss me. Tell me sweet things every girl longs to hear. Tell me we will make it to forever. Look at me like you looked at me for the first time every time. I’m not scared anymore.”

Her heartbeat feels like it did the first time.

O’ adonai.

we walked together and I knew we were literally walking in the same shoes. Yet, it was like I was wearing no socks in a frosty winter. Numb.

You and I made promises to steer in the same direction. You and I were inseparable! You clothed me in righteousness. I knew you, your touch saved me.

Can we really do this? This life is aching to be set free somehow. O’ freedom doesn’t seem real. These blood soaked rags become my affliction. I try to get the blood out, but I am helpless to remove the stain.

I am desperate to remember you. My heart barely beats anymore. I gaze into vacant faces not searching for anything anymore. I see the consent of things that break your heart. O’ cleanse me.

Bless you, for putting up with swine. You make no sense, but neither does love. Talk with me ever hour, minute, and second of every day.

Can’t we wake up from this nightmare in which we love to hate, but hate to love? I hesitate too much in my mind when I seek you for things I know will be too hard to give up. I curse myself for being too weak, but you caress me and let me back into your bosom.

Crashing waves and arid deserts. Frigid winters and blistering summers.

Let your will…

replace MINE.

O’ author of life, paint your landscape on my canvas!

her body and california cornflakes

The final straw was her clothes scattered on my floor.

The brink of disaster was appealing, but not for me. I could tell she was out cold.

What could another line do?

Coke lines off her beautiful body. It was quick and easy. After the coke was absorbed into my bloodstream I kissed my cross that was dangling around my neck.

I laid my head back down to sleep only to find my pillow had drips of blood on it.

Hesitant to touch my nose, I panicked. Convulsions sent me from the bed to the floor.

She slowly rose from the bed only to find me convulsing in the fetal position and in a puddle of my own blood.

I couldn’t see her.

She slurred some speech to me “Awh, ugh”

…

“Where’s rest?”

When I came back to, I woke to her naked body lying beside me.

I nudged her. Nothing.

I pushed her over to see her once stunning face completely covered in blow.

I laid back down with death and didn’t move.

I’m not, I’m not a number!

The earth is fine. Gas is on tilt. Socrates, what to do, what to do. The highway has it’s mileage, traveling always gets people off.

It creeps in the shadows, rather it be quick. It preys upon the weak. Darwin’s “the strong survive.” Death, is so inviting to the suicide pact. Cross over troubled waters and lose consciousness, only to gain “perseverance.”

I’m over wishing for forever. No one is going to mark me with a number. Death, what a concept. No one is going to bury me.

Death, I can’t tolerate the thought of you anymore! I curse you, I will not perish! Call me young and naive! Bravery is for the faint at heart.  Boy, are you going to have your hands full with me! I have my bible, cross and rosemary. I can hear you trembling.

Joan of Arc burned at the stake. People who oppose, usually lose their head. Death, I call you out! My head, my head, my head you will not have!

Who am I kidding?

seasons pass.

we made out.

she kept me around.

one more day…

we grew up fast.

I gripped tightly to the TV remote. She could build up such meaningless arguments. I threw the remote and walked outside, only to see her face everywhere. This town is washed up and abandoned. “Anything is better than nothing”, she would tell me. Forget this place, I’m over it.

She better not miss me ’cause I left enough to cover my tracks. I had to leave. There’s no looking back. I hated confrontation. She would always come home and bitch about something. I decided I would head to Chicago and chill with one of my old college roommates. I was going nowhere and it never scared me.

Chicago picked me up with open arms. Jon lived alone and kept to himself. He told me I could stay as long as I wanted just as long as I found a job. A few days went by and I couldn’t find anything. People ate one another in a vicious economic struggle. The city was like a riot.

I met a man named Louis at a local bar. Louis knew the city. He told me the city had sex. He told me he would make me a trafficker if I wanted. At first I thought he meant a pimp, I was mistaken. He handed me a bag and told me to deliver it to Pete on Third and Broad. I went to open the bag to see what I was delivering and he smacked my hand. “It’s grass,” he told me and from that day on I knew I would be looking over my shoulder.

There was good money in drugs. From time to time I would think about what she would say if she knew what I was doing. I would make enough to cover rent for a while and then start looking for a real job.

“Miss, we got your number off of his contact list, said you were family… you, uh, recognize him?” the police officer questioned the young woman.

“Ye-s,” she sobbed as she overlooked his youthful body. She thought about when they had talked about moving to Chicago to raise a family. She asked the police officer if she could have some time alone with the body and he granted her wishes saying “Take as much time as you need Miss.”

She took her trembling hand and gently brushed his long, dirty blond hair out of his face. She started crying and talking out loud.

“Why’d you leave Eric, I didn’t mean to be overbearing. I was just scared you didn’t love me enough. I didn’t mean to push you away. Come back! I need you! I-m…”

I gaze at the sun and moon.

I met a man on broad street, said he knew Jesus Christ. I laughed. He told me God loved me but needed to inform me that God didn’t want me to burn. The man looked at me with sincere compassion and said there’s still time. I shot his compassion down and asked him to save me a seat on the train to the promise land. He started to talk again but I kept on walking.

I came across a gypsy with vibrant purple hair. Mixed into the purple craze was an icy glow of pure white innocence. She didn’t look honest, she looked ridiculous. She grabbed my hand abruptly and asked me if I would like to dance. I instantly said “Yes!” Then dramatically sighed and told her to politely shove her dance up her ass.

New Orleans had it out for me.

A bum approached me and tried to bum a cigarette off me. I shook him until I heard the coins stop. No honest beggar left in this hell hole. I kept on walking.

I made it home. As I was flipping through the channels on the TV I thought about passing out. I needed something. I knew someone.

I cut it up in perfect lines.  I heard a knock on my door. I opened the door and a man, gypsy and beggar walked in.

We conversed about politics, God and music. I never felt so alive.

black clothes…

I want two, not one. It’s not about one perfect person, its about satisfying all my needs. One has chemistry and the other has fire.

I thought about the sea engulfing me and tearing me limb from limb. Give me cancer, but not love! Curse this wrenching feeling in my stomach and blot out my name in the holy book. Johnny Cash, give me your black clothes cuz I’m in need.

I smoke and smoke till I run out. Nothing seems to calm my nerves. I think about the outcomes and choose neither. The sea is looking appetizing.

As I gaze upon the crashing waves and think about the salty taste, I drop to my knees. God, I could use some help.

Fire placed her hand on my back.

it comes more than once.

my we. have. LOST control. I told you. I felt you. my knees. weak. we are. closer, than ever before. so young. so brave. i wont. i wont. protect you. you. were in love. we were. in love? O no. mum, what have. i done. God, be my fire. I wont. be careful. i miss. yesterday. we crossed. paths. you wouldnt. even look. in my-HEART. pounds. give me. I dont. feel like. this will. be the. last. time…

video from when jon and i saw the honorary title!

stalk the night, find your death.

“You are becoming distant, don’t screw with me or I will fuck you over.”

I hear the music beating in and out as I rush to see if she has called. No call.

One by one I count the seconds on the clock and I feel the pressure building up in my head.

She’s not going to call. I just know it.

I get out my phone to call her. No. Wait it out.

I remember what she said earlier that day.

“I will be late tonight, you better not be there.”

I shouldn’t have made that comment. Ah hell, whats it matter.

She quietly reported

“I don’t love you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You have overstayed your welcome.”

“It’s the money, its always about money with you.”

“Pack and don’t come back.”

“What the hell are you doing here?!?”

“Fighting for you.”

“I won’t, I won’t…”

“Shh, this wont hurt a bit.”

Taste me halloween.

It’s crazy dancing in blood stained clothes.

And when it happened, we felt like kids. At least I did.

I kissed her gently and let her know that I would tape the Office for her.

Halloween.

“Stick around, let’s have some fun” she said.

Her slender neck so appetizing.

We frolicked around like animals in heat that night.

O’ she was quite the treat.

Both of us made eye contact and clothes were forgotten. It was my plan.

I paused and asked for her name.

She said her name was “Desire.”

I remember how it began.

She touched me gently at the party and I knew we would hook up.

I nibbled at her neck and she convulsed.

I felt everything when I bit into her.

Her scream so intoxicating, so enticing. The blood oozing from her luscious, candy-coated body gave me chills.

I carried her outside and gazed at the face in the moon.

It smiled back.

And I danced with her glowing corpse…

She

It’s a blur. I can’t feel her anymore. I’m tangled up in nonsense and I’m losing control of my emotions. She knew my every move.

It’s a blur. Watching the time pass as I cast my shadow to and fro. My God, I never meant to leave your side. Days and nights can get rough.

It’s a blur. We walked on the railroad tracks and talked about Breakfast Club. I thought Judd Nelson was a badass and she thought Molly Ringwald’s lipstick trick was impressive.

It’s a blur. Shes gone. I’m looking down a 3 story building contemplating flying. It never made any sense. Heaven or hell, either way it’s an eternity. Call me crazy but thinking like that can make you do things radically. I need a miracle because I’m looking like shit with one foot over the edge.

It’s not a blur. I can feel my legs giving way as my attempt to fall down the 3 story building grows closer. My heart is not racing. I am not sweating. I am content that there is nothing more that this life can offer me. Her voice is not ringing in my ears to tell me to re-think my current situation. There is nothing. God is busy on the other line and Satan is opening up hell for me. I can see the fire and brimstone, and visualize my skin melting into oblivion. I am not asking how did it come to this. I have no last thoughts, regrets or attempts at forgiveness.

My eyes roll back and I lean forward. I don’t fall. The wind is literally pushing against me! My God, let me go! Now I am forcing myself over the edge only to be abruptly knocked back by what appears to be a strong gail wind?!?

As I lay on my back the wind dies down. Let me go!

God did not scream at me, nor did he scold me for what I had done. He was not busy and hell was not open. I’m in tears and yet, I’m laughing a bit.

God, I hear ya.

He rode the L too fast.

I believe you when you look at me like you do. how did we really know each other? well, quite often i think of you dear. You remind me of September. -death and destruction- ring around the roses we all did fall down that day.  Carry, carry-uh- carry on they all said.

You screamed at me in August. Something nasty and I am certain I had a bad taste in my mouth. Nuclear warfare has nothing on us. December, we went to Rome and acted like lovers. You sat on my lap and confessed unrelated topics. Wine and finer things. By January I was useless you said. I never made the bed, or cleaned up after myself and was a selfish bastard. I tried to buy my way out of February. The snow didn’t let up. Neither did we. I told you we would make it. You told me you had enough of us. I said that’s not possible. March, we went to counseling. We let out screams of anger until we made-out on the doctor’s desk. Spring was coming soon. Skirts and shorts would help us fall in love all over again that April. July, we were hot and heavy.

What’s enough? Nothing is ever quite enough. I trust her cheating heart. I cheated on her with a woman in Mexico to break even. Restless nights. I was sober and it was the first time in a while. I called her. It was over and I could tell. I realized too late that she was perfect. Hope floats down the river but doesn’t reach my stream.

he thunk it. (dumb it down)

I’ve got time to dick around, I’ve got time for meh and you. What i dunnt got is time fo yur krazy anticks. You drive meh mad-up the wall-lusing my mind-with cunvulsions-bursting at the seems.  i grew tired of your deranged, medicinal lyrics. You dote too much on “feeling reality.” I dunt like to luve. Hell, I luv like its gunnin out of style dunttt get meh wrung. I hear ya, you dunt have ta talk n riddelzzz.  persecution might be the death of mankind. Shut yo mouth yah spittin too much. Dazed-n-tired of bein tuld wat ta do gonna live like motha Teresa. fresh like a healed leper. uNITED states of Merica cant feel yur pain. Toss the poor and claim yur taxes. Heard a sermun n the bible-belt otha day telln Christ-ians ta surve up new wayz to murder God’s damned gayz. Fact a-da-matta is we can tell a man not to luv a man but ta look at um like jezus wuld be injustice. out da questi-un. I cant find ya suulllll NYmore. We lay in ruin, hopin someones gut da answersss. We have lost our eyes and cant find our hands-n-feet. One aint a figure of speCh. its a commodity. dunt speak at meh but lets luv each otha? I cunfused again. Its fine, its fine, its fine- Fine FiNe…nO itz nutz. Ignore meh pleaze I’m just an iconoclast.

the poison lit up your soul.

I drank the poison.  I watched you dance seductively on the table. We made eye contact a couple of times but nothing too obvious. I drank more poison until I sucked the bottom of the glass. I crossed my eyes to focus straight, but discovered you had left. Ah, another shot and I will follow.

I staggered out to where she was. She was getting into her car. She looked unhappy and in a hurry. I couldn’t help but mutter a sheepish “He-y miss.” She shot a glance in my direction then shut her door. I stumbled over to the front of her car and took out a gun and put it to my head. She wasn’t stunned. She sorta looked at me with a sigh. “Get some help buddy,” she said pretty sarcastically. I gazed into her soul and longed to know her but knew the bottle was controlling my body. I pulled the trigger and she was still stone cold. I pulled the trigger once more and she put her car in reverse and drove off.

I slowly pulled the gun away from my head and fumbled right back into the bar to grab another drink.

and it was, hella good.

The weather is dirty. I can see my breath tonight and that scares me. I swing my arms furiously to the left, then to the right. I kick my legs in and out. My dance in perfect rhythm. I can see their faces, hungry for my literature. Like a vulture I circle around them, kicking and swinging fists of fury. I pound my chest as if I can cure their diseases. I give them a couple chants and they scream in devilish delight.  I look sincerely into each individual face and pierce each and everyone of them with conviction.  Low scream, high scream. I can feel my arm hair rise as the music becomes like a torrent over the mass of vibrant faces. They get off to the squeal of a pick colliding with any of the six strings. I can see them salivating for the breakdown. The build up is too much to bare and I sense the dust is about to fly. Then it happens. There is mud, beer, blood, sweat and salvation being mixed together in the most intimate way. The bodies crash together like cymbals and this continues until the music, the intoxication, ends.

That’s just the first song…

after the movie “Closer” we conversed…

when it happened she looked strange. Her hair was down-messy, with a hint of promiscuity. her taste was of another. I never questioned her. I laid there, naked and alone. She was there, but I couldn’t see her. I saw him all over her. She kissed my forehead. I told her I would make us some tea. I went straight out the front door. I smoked two packs that day. Lying to myself that nothing happened. Three missed calls later and I answered. “I was outta cigarettes.”

She hesitated, and asked why I hadn’t told her where I was going. I simply replied,

“You never told me.”

He did not play with GI Joes.

After he watched the house burn to the ground he smiled. He got into his 87 cavalierand started her up roughly. He hit the dash with a chuckle as she choked and died. He did not get upset. He did not curse. What I saw next frightens me to this day. The man got out of his car sluggishly and took out a Molotov bomb from the trunk. The classic 87, maroon, cavalier became history in a matter of seconds. As he walked away from the flames he headed in my direction. Everything in me screamed “RUNNNN!” But, I was completely frozen,  behind the old run down shed. I literally could not move a muscle and he was getting closer and closer. I started to wonder about my life and what I had done with it. Was I a good person? Did I satisfy my wife? We’re my kids going to be alright?

He didn’t have a weapon on him, or so I thought. He saw me and I knew it. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me with a sense of curiosity. It was such a strange sequence of events. The police swarmed the area and I had just become the most essential part of his story. I was his getaway and the lone witness to his murders. He grabbed me peacefully, which threw me off. I tried to remain calm. 

I had been following him for days now. He was an odd fellow, but distinct in everything he did. He lacked various emotions and was inhumane. I was hired to follow him because of disclosed reasons. Anyways, he wasn’t very discrete. It was my first “big” case.

As he pulled me into a submission hold I wondered if the police knew what they were dealing with. The police started barking orders at the man, but he didn’t listen. He told the police he would snap my neck in two and not think twice about it if they did not leave. The police then made me uncomfortable with what they said next.

“He’s nothing to us. He’s got felonies and he cooperated. We needed to find you and we did. The rest is history.”

I started to curse and wail at the red moon. The “police” didn’t look like police, but justice can look murky at times. The man did not look uneasy, he looked like he was insane. He started to laugh uncontrollably and he let me go. I couldn’t believe what was happening.  My heart sank and I immediately fell to the ground while bullets grazed my back. 

The scene painted through my memory:

Bullets penetrate his body as the blood and dirt flies in every direction. His legs are taking him towards the burning house and the justice force is following him. As the large, emotion-less man stumbles to the doorstep, he is now bleeding from the head down to his lower calf muscles. The firing stops and the man falls on the porch with a loud thud.

As the police go to check the body they notice a letter in the man’s blood soaked hands.

The police explain to me that they were just using standard tactics to bring the man in. They tell me they meant no harm and that they are sorry if they have caused me any trouble. I told them to…

The letter read:

“Their deaths were needed. He should not have-
… “

part two: filled with anguish, he couldn’t reme-

As I looked over the letter I could not make out what it was truly saying. It looked like a sloppy defense for a mass murderer. I threw the letter down by the stretcher.

Anyways, all I could think about was going home and making love to my wife. I wasn’t banged up or anything…just a little shook up. I took a couple of dinosaur stuff animals down from the hospital gift shop shelf and booked it back home.  As I was driving, I couldn’t get his image out of my head. The laughing. The snickering, like he was demon possessed. Something strange started to come over me. I started to laugh, I-uh…started to laugh like-like him. It was like his mannerisms had become mine.  I slapped myself in the face and got out of my car. I stopped abruptly and grabbed the gifts and headed inside. I greeted my wife with a big kiss and the kids clung to my legs. Home, thank God.

“Yeah, we are going to have to ask ya to come in,” awkward voice.
“Uh, its 4 o’ clock in the mornin, this will have to wait!” I yelled back.
“Something awful happened…he-he’s killed more.” awkward voice.
“Huh? What the hell are ya talking about? He’s dead.” I assured.
“He’s in your house.” awkward voice.
The phone call ends.

What the hell? I panicked and told my wife, who was now wide awake, to go check on the kids. I grabbed my gun and got to the stairway and hesitated as I heard a scream from downstairs. I was freaking out now and I took off running down the stairs only to stumble and fall firing off my gun. I pulled myself together and heard his laugh. His haunting, sadistic laugh. Everything in me exploded with anger and fear. I started to run around like an inexperienced cop who had just pissed himself while watching his comrade bleed out.  I ran into the kitchen and he was standing there, standing there like a planted tree. His roots were all throughout the house and I felt him underneath my feet even. He smiled at me as he scratched his scraggly beard.

“What do you want! Why are you here!” I questioned nervously.
“Its simple Jon, I’m here to write history.” the awkward voice snickered with delight. 
“You sick fuck, stay away from me and my family you bastard!” And I unloaded a full clip into his thick body. As the bullets were being lodged into his body he laughed like I was tickling him. I started to cry. Rather, I started to ball like a girl who was not allowed to go to prom. I wanted answers, I-I was dreaming?
“This isn’t a dream Jon. This is reality, you’ve really messed up Jon. ” the awkward voice accused.
“And don’t worry about your family, they will die peacefully, I promise.” the awkward voice squealed.

I dropped my gun and looked up and there was no roof on my once beautiful home. The sky was on fire like hell itself had stormed the atmosphere. It started to hail. As the hail pelted my face  I reached out towards the laughing man with a gasp and fell to the floor with a thud.

{be)ware of new fi\sh eggs. sarcas.tonically!”

his voice was persistent in my head. I punched my head until I bled green- selfish-money. The beast within me, what a cheesy line. I shoved my scrawny-pointer-finger down my throat to puke up my temporary pleasures only to find my “puke button” to be “temporarily broken.” Ah, that makes perfect sense? Ironic sounds like tonic which helps me to become more of an “alchee” which is a new-fun word for alcoholic. I just scratched my head and noticed I was balding from the stresses of growing up? PORN ADD! PORN ADD! Back Back Back Back BaaAAAACkkkkkk we go to the exploding venom i spewed from my mouth to get the mentally retarded kid to sign my volunteer sheet. It’s pathetic smoking menthol’s. Honestly! I think Jesus just IM’ed me the sermon from last Sunday. Allah and Mother Teresa were spotted hanging out at the dive bar, the other night, on a beautiful-storming-cats-and-dogs-day… A few days later, the bar was burned down by some local-conservative-bird-watchers. My scrawny hands are trying to gain weight but all I have in my toes are 4 snack wraps and an Ohio FOOD STAMPS card.  My friend did steroids! And killed the school record for weight-lifting and when questioned about performance enhancing drugs—–he simply said the KOO-LAID musta been laced. My ex-girlfriend recently danced on the stripper {pole? poll? either ither!} She was never touched by her father! Crack me off a piece of that pot…AND BREAK me off a piece of the ten commandments. just a piece, I don’t understand ten. okay, okay okay! maybe you deserved it! yarp <—- (read backwards.) more? (no serve) it up volleyball style. spikeit down throats. HES COMING BACK DONT YOU KNOW? lol, i never heard the 5000 messages Sissy and i chewed juicy-big wad- buba–licious through… can someone please hang this damn phone up!

I watched out my open window, in the -windy-bitter-20-below-zero-weather, all these events unfold (INSIDE AND OUT) . <—[APA format]

Up against the moon.

We fumbled to make contact. You had your hand intertwined in mine and we walked like ghosts in the dark. I lit a match just to see your anxious face. You, of course, blew it out as soon as the flame illuminated the area around us.
This is a secret! Quit ruining it! And put your handkerchief back over your eyes!
Your sweet, innocent words.
We kept walking until you said the magic words.
We are here.
Your words, so simple-so ready.
You untied my handkerchief and I found the moon staring at me in full effect. It was cute. The blanket, the spread, the bottle of cheap red wine. I looked up into the moon and looked back into your eyes. So serene, so unescapable were your green eyes. We locked lips and I gently pushed a few strands of hair out of your face.
I can’t think of anywhere else I’d want to be, than here with you baby.
Your words, passionate and intoxicating.
All three of us seemed to be smiling with vivid joy.

do you look down at me?

My knuckles are bleeding from the constant insanity. I don’t understand this hell. The fields are looking bare again. Fields, where you and I made magic happen. Beautiful, luscious rows of golden corn. Gah, you had possession over me. I belonged to you that summer. All we needed was the air we breathed. Couple times a week we escaped our parents grasp and went out to the corn fields to make love for minutes…Ha such young guns. Young kids with digs and sex.

Your body was like that of a goddess. Eyes like rushing waves of blue ocean. Legs long and slender. Your blond hair flowed like rays of sunshine. Your curves so defined, so intricate.

Few times we hung out you had weird bruises. I asked you about them one time as we layed intertwined in the corn field and…You, you told me they were from you falling down the steps at your house. I told you to be careful next time. My mom approached me that summer about you.
“Shes not good enough for you. What about that other girl Tara?”
I would only laugh and run out the door before she could say more.

I headed to our spot that day and waited for you. I smoked a pack waiting for you that day. I beat our record of 10 digs in a half hour. You never showed that day. I didn’t worry though. I knew you probably had a good excuse. You didn’t, at least I thought.
I watched you walk across the caf with a little limp only I would notice. I asked you why you didn’t show and you started to cry. You told me you couldn’t see me anymore. I laughed, and told her that’s crazy! You started to cry more. I took you seriously this time. I asked why, but you limped away. I didn’t run after you. I stood there frozen to the ground. I didn’t move from that spot the whole day.  
You were dead in 2 days.
Why? Why didn’t I go after you? So young, so naive. ..So oblivious. I hate my immature self for that day. That motha fucka. Your father. I swore I would kill him when he got out. The winter took him that year in the lockbox. Authorities said he was mauled to death. Fitting.

My knuckles bleeding from punching your fathers grave.
Bitter and alone I will drink in the barren corn field tonight and toke up to you darling, my sweet dream.

Disaster strikes, patterns fight.

Fingers gripping the back of my head, you let go. Paused. Looked at me with the cutest grin and then you rolled off my sweaty body. I chuckled and reached over to grab a smoke. Sexy; we had breakfast in the nude, outside our house on the secluded beach. Together and so secure, yet, I felt distant. My heart ached for something she couldn’t offer.

Handshakes in disaster as we burned down another house.

He ate the floor.

God and I had a conversation about it. (sort of) First thing, I started to blab to him about all sorts of nothing. He simply listened with intent ears designed to block out any type of distraction. As I unloaded I thought about Stacy and the last time we had made out. Her tongue, always smooth and the perfect texture. O, sorry God. He just smiled. I looked at my watch and thought about how much longer I had to do this. What? O, yea, Be still and listen child…Yeah, I know about that God but its-its just…I have to go do that thing. You know-Busy-busy-busy! He whispered something, I didn’t have time to listen..
I parked the car. He was on my mind again. Hmm, God? I jus-jus don’t know sometimes…He whispered something to me but my radio was still on full blast. I mean, can you blame me? It was playing Bloc Party- “Flux.”  I knocked on her door. She answered with a “HOLD ON!” I stood there awkwardly with God on my mind. Gesh, can we have this conversation later? He whispered something, but she opened the door and kissed me quickly. The kiss took the very breath out of me and she tasted like nectarines.
We had the house to ourselves. I know God! You were there. I get it. Anyways, one thing led to the next and I was laying on her floor barefoot and smelled like nectarines. He whispered something to me. Really? Right now? I looked at her, her big blue eyes fixed on the nectarine she was eating. She was sloppy with it. Sucking the fruit like there was no tomorrow. Dripping spit and wiping it with her arm. It didn’t matter to me though, she was cute nonetheless.
Her purple hair-He whispered something to me. Okay-okay-OKAY! I took my gaze off her for a moment and asked forgiveness for what I had done. Her purple hair complemented her yellow skinny jeans that-He whispered something to me. Uh? What’s the problem? Odd.

She asked me who I was talking to and I ignored you.(kind of) ”O nothin, just thinking.” Whoops, that was a mistake. “What about?” Uh-Uh God? Wow, am I that ashamed? She smiled from ear to ear and continued to eat her nectarine as if I had told her I was thinking about the very fruit she was eating! I chuckled a little. He whispered something to me but  all I heard was her purple hair complemented her yellow skinny jeans that her coked up mother bought her. Phew, finally got that out.

He whispered something to me for what felt like the hundredth time and I think I finally heard him. I started to cry and tears hit my bare feet.  I had been ignoring the question for about a year now. She kept eating her juicy, succulent nectarine…smiling from ear to ear as if I wasn’t even there.

Do you still love me son?

A.M with you.

I stole the fire right from under you. You-you were fast-yet-not quick enough. I ate through the pages of material as if breakfast had not been cooked but a mere 5 minutes ago. Bacon-n-eggs, my favorite. “A cross fell from the sky today” was the story I gobbled up this morning. I wanted to be smart. Intelligent, in front of you.
“Says here Marg, that a cross with a map on it fell from the sky last night,” I said in a clever voice.
“No way! That-that there is the end times mom was telling us about!!” She exclaimed in a nervous yell.
I loved when you got riled up. You turn me on so-so…
“Want to read the comics with me?” Marg said trying to avoid the “end times.”
Her strawberry sun-kissed hair drove me caaaaarazy. I wanted to reach across the table and play with it.
“Of course, dear.” I managed without giving way to my arousal.
“You fancy me, don’t ya?” Her voice so certain.
I looked across the table and winked at her bright, freckled, sun-tanned face. She shoved the newspapers off the table and we met in the middle. I wrapped my arms around her and we locked eyes. I went in for the kiss-paused-and said
“I fancy you alright!”

still frames and a Mississippi cyclone.

read me something strange. talk to me, till dawn. Let’s go lay in the wet grass, come morning time. Can we just pretend we don’t have jobs? You don’t work at McDonald’s anymore. N me? Well, today the gaming world can make due without me.

It’s amazing how the colors collide when you are on top of the world. We saw the face in the moon fall and watched the sun rise to become a ball of bright, flickering flames. As we watched the world get out of its slumber we ate honeycomb cereal and coffee cakes. We listened to Broken Social Scene “Lover’s spit.” Your favorite song. You taste like honeycomb.

You asked me about the day ahead of us but I interrupted you. “Look hunnnnny! A doe is literally like 7 feet from us!” You got out your fingers and clicked, making sure I was in the shot. We were made for this. You smiled. Our hands were interlocked and her feet were hidden under my legs. She gently placed her head on my shoulder and I moved just in time to disrupt this incredibly mushy-gushy scene. Her head made whiplash in a car wreck look like child’s play. I started to burst into laughter and she looked pissed. I jumped up quick before she could slug my arm. I couldn’t help myself, she was so damn cute. She smirked and I knew it was coming. Her face fighting it, but it is hard not to wear your emotion. She started with a short giggle, and then we both were practically in tears from laughter. When the dust settled her head was placed back on my shoulder and I was as still as Lot’s wife after she turned around.

Nothing is ordinary, when you make it original.

Short snippets of a peculiar reality.

She yawned and a little yelp was let out.

In jeopardy, we were. I never once crossed my fingers. I lit up and chased a dragon through Egypt. My vision, 20/20. Straight Bacardi 151. I didn’t use a chaser.

She scratched her ratty, peach flavored hair and collapsed right back into the water bed with a pa-loomp. I nibbled at her neck and she giggled like a child. She smelled and tasted like peaches.

She had to ask. I knew it was coming.
“Are you leaving me, soon?” Just like a child, she was. Nervous, she was. She stroked my ace of spades that was just recently inked.
I was higher than God.

He touched my side, and I was instantly put in shock. He whispered to me. I am the opposite of a revolutionary. Wake up and eat out of my Eden.

When I woke up, she was curled up in a tight ball next to me. I tried to get up but my side ached and I felt like my ribs were poking out of my flesh. I slowly lifted up my shirt to see exactly what I feared the most. My ribs were literally poking out of my side. I laid helpless, not a single drop of blood. I gasped from the excruciating pain I felt. I wanted my Bacardi 151, and I wanted it bad.

“Guess, you wont be going anywhere soon, eh?” She said in a peculiar voice.

I groove to music while she crosses state lines.

She’s watching. I inject the poison into my skeleton. Her tongue lashes out vicious and unromantic.  Taste it. Can we just dance tonight? god, will you please bleed…let me know you are breathing. You. Too busy crossing state lines and burning books of countless heroines. I cant, I wont.

you suck the life out of my sex. Every touch…glance…

We are listening to Brand New. I like to groove.
The red orange sky grew into a canvas to be painted and she grew eager.
She told me she wanted me to change. I said “keep lookin at the sky.”
She stormed back inside when she heard the phone ringing.
I could hear her on the phone with the peace corps.  “Yes, I am willing to go wherever the need is.”

Fuck that. She’s not going anywhere.
“All I want to do is bang-bang-bang.” O’ M.I.A, couldn’t be more appropriate right now.
She is smiling like a child on Christmas day. She just hung up the phone.

“Babe, I made it in! I leave next week!”
She has no clue. No fucking idea what is going to happen next.
I smirk at her.

“Keep lookin up at the sky.”

She was midnight’s lady.

She moved.

I could see her every angle. Her hips swaying back-n-forth, teasing me with wonder. Her curves were defying my grasp. She mixed me something and slid it down the cherry wood bar. My open palm received it with a tight clinch.

We made small talk. Her day, my day. Weather, (Michigan had a mental disorder.) College, where. Small talk.
Her hair was kissed with violet tips all around the bottom and bangs.  She was dangerous, and I was trying new things.

She listened to my story about China. “I stood in the streets of  Beijing and didn’t move a muscle. Time was an illusion. I was being moved by the passing wind brought on by passing strangers. I closed my eyes and kept my hands to my side while I exchanged contact with natives of Beijing. The language so quick, so precise. I felt intimacy in a crowd of  disarray.”

“You want another one?” She was a mind reader.

We sat on park benches.

4:54 pm. Still nothing.

My body is sending me sharp pains without warning. Her taste is lingering on my skin like we were together just yesterday.  It helps me to cope. I get liberated by the smell of my lover. Juniper breeze. Bought her that intoxicating smell a couple months back. I told her she was to wear it all the time, even if I had to buy it for her.

5:06 pm…

Where could she be? I am a tad worried I have misanalysed something. Did she say 4:30 or 5…

5:13 pm…

She wrote to me once about how much she hated being away from me. A letter, ink and all the glory. Love she said, towards the end of the letter, meant letters-songs-mix tapes-and most of all, pioneering creativity.

4:24 pm.

Early. I was always early. I never liked to be late or keep others waiting. I was punctual. She loved that. She never once said I cared too much.

4:30 pm.

Faces. I saw many different faces  as they exited the Amtrak.  Her face so distinct. Soft features. She had a thinner face with a hint of cherry in her cheeks. Her teeth, naturally white, glistened brightly everywhere she went.  Her eyes were brown, but a good brown, almost like hazel. Her lips connected with mine like a puzzle designed just for us. Her face even had a slight glow or aura about it. I had kissed every inch of that beautiful face. I had discovered a small scar underneath her chin. I knew her, I loved her.

5:30 pm.

I was distraught. I had called her 4 times in 7 minutes. No answer. I called my voice mail at home to check and see if there were any messages from her.

Message 1: “Hey babe, I missed the train. Don’t worry. I-uh-just need you to be prepared for something.”

O’ god…did she? O’ please god anything but that. Not another cliche long term relationship with a cheaters ending. I have been fait-

Message 2: “Kisses from Chicago and no I did not cheat on you.”

I tried not to laugh but, I knew she got me.

A day later…

My heart hurts, my stomach is releasing “the ball drop” movement every couple of seconds. I hope shes okay. Did she not want to come home because I didn’t put the toilet seat down after being told to do that a million times? I will try harder, I swear. Listen to me. I sound like I am losing my mind. Breathe, there she is.

Is he ready? Are we ready? I’m in the process of becoming a journalist and he is wanting to be a pop-culture analyst and is currently writing for the local newspaper. We have barely enough to live in the one bedroom apartment. Will he freak out and leave me? Gah, I miss Chicago.

She looks nervous. Damn, she sure is beautiful. She’s biting her lip. Somethings up. Be cool. Be cool.

“Hey babe! I missed you!!!”

“I love you.”

“Why are you crying?”

“I-i-m pregnant.”

“Can we make our child a sweet mix tape?”

That day, I will never forget her hug.

Cali made the 9-5 worth it…

It’s not right to force it. Don’t try and fabricate a story. We are who we are.

We met up. We made out. We said goodbye.

That was that. She’s just that girl. I am just that guy.

Coastlines use to steal all our nights.

French kissing was not vulgar. It was hella tight.

Cuddling wasn’t a necessity. It was a commodity.

Luring them in with a margarita wasn’t crucial.

Just leave that up to the volcanic exploding sunsets.

It’s no mystery hookups can happen with alcohol, but what about a burning sky causing pandemonium in someone’s heart?

She couldn’t explain it. Neither could I.

We are who we are.

We watched the sunset intertwined with no alcohol in our blood and that was Cali.

I still have the souvenirs.

Your bible is black and white. (red letters missing)

“Do you go to church?”
“Well-”
“Why don’t you go? Do you not like it anymore? If you can find a poker room, then you can find a church. Where are your priorities?”
“I-”
“You will know them by their fruits. All I ever see you do is talk perverted, sing about worldly things, and joke about porn, strippers, and cursing.”

“Cuz no one ever tells a joke…And you are being very crazy right now, you wouldn’t even let me respond…”
“You know I’m right. It’s in the bible. You answered!”

the appeal of propinquity

its been strange. You and I haven’t danced in quite some time. We used to stomp our feet to the sound of timpani drums. You have been asking about me, and I can tell. Tick-tock goes the internal clock that has been badgering me for days. I heard your voice disrupting my vulgar communication and I was not too happy with you. I have been punching holes in pillows instead of community service. I have been away from you… filling my head up with mumbo-jumbo unicorn tales of dashing juliets with loose legs. I noticed your purple sky the other day. The stratus clouds were stacked like layers of marshmallow cushion. It reminded me of nothing. Cliche this, cliche that. I say ‘nay’ to bad times and ‘God bless you’ with green rectangular hair. Motivation, you are not a word. Stop existing so that I may dance happily.

yaegar (baby) bomb.

I can feel her stomach moving all around. The baby is curling itself up in a ball of goo on the inside. This is not my thing. Kick once if you are a rock star, twice if you are a republican and no kicks if you are a sociopath. I will play Zoso for the baby. And as a toddler Bach. I swear if you tell me this is backwards I will-

I chewed a pack of dentin ice.
When she kissed me I felt nothing.
She didn’t seem very nervous.
I wasn’t that scared, just nervous about being a dad, I suppose…Yeah, that’s it.

Would he be a Lord of the Rings dweeb?
A jock who has sex before 16?
Would she play with barbies?
A cheerleader who dates that jock?

She smiled at me and I pulled out a Marlboro Menthol Smooth.

All I could really think about is the hangover I was going to have tomorrow.

at your funeral.

every inch is crawling. I loosen my belt buckle and slide my jeans down my body sluggishly. I adjust and grab the bottom of my v-neck tee and pull it up over my head. I sigh then realize my damn cell phone is in my jeans. I groan and bend over to retrieve it from my pocket. I set the alarm and…

Buzz, buzz.

Knock, knock.

You gotta be kidding me.

Hold on!

“What?”
“You got the notes from today?”

Click.

As I open the door I know it’s probably a mistake.
She jumps. Her hot air on my neck. Her legs wrapping around my torso and I crack a smile. Her tiny, yet defined arms locking around my shoulders. She places a wet kiss on my lips and one of her arms drop, gliding down my lower back to my underwear waistband. Her thumb pulling down just enough until they drop. Her arm quickly returns and clinches her other tiny friend. She then goes in for another kiss but decides against it. She lowers herself grinding her front down my chest which is sweaty now.

P.S I am feeling this.

She stops and stares me straight in the eyes and questions if I know what today is. I look at her dumbfounded and reach out towards her signaling a “Let’s continue and talk later.” Her face slumps, her pupils are not big anymore. Her face is tense and I think,  is she going to cry?

“It’s our anniversary.”

She barges out the door leaving me completely naked and excited. I collapse onto the futon.

when all else fails, break out the records.

We went to the zoo in hopes of finding a good time. I tried to understand the guard when he said we could not ride the elephants. “Sir, this is a zoo, not Chuckie Cheeses.” The guard looked like Dwight Schrute.

My teenage son, who is 14, said the monkeys were mouthing the lyrics “no ones going to take me alive! The time has come to make things right! You and I must fight for our rights! You and I must fight to survive!” He told me this with a grin while trying to pry the bars open. Dwight wasn’t happy about this. My son let me know that I wasn’t hip enough to listen to Muse. I told him that Muse wouldn’t be able to survive in AC/DC’s jungle. He gave me a strange look…

“Excuse me sir, back away from the bars.”
That guard, nothing better to do but be a stickler about the rules. He looked tired, he had bags under his eyes. His 5 o’clock shadow was scraggly looking and in need of some attention. He wore horn-rimmed glasses from the stone ages. My son informed me that the guard probably never got any pussy. I smacked the back of his head and he started to laugh. When did these kids get so cute?

“Dad, thanks for getting me out of the house for this. I mean, it’s not like Dave and Kevin are playing in a Halo tournament in which I am supposed to be in or anything.”

Such a smart ass. I wanted to show him things I never got to see when I was a child. I wanted him to see the walrus, penguins, and giraffes. Was I too late? Am I just like my father? I have to find a way to spice this up.

“Hey dad, doesn’t that guard look like Dwight Schrute?”
Like father, like son.

The guard was eying us the whole time we were watching the monkeys. I sat down on the bench with a sigh. My son was listening to his i-pod now. What followed was him texting. My elbows were now resting on my knees while my head had plopped down into my hands.

The shepard and reaper.

We weren’t moving very fast. The sky was having a manic episode. Bombs were not exploding. He spit up blood. I knew we had to make a choice quickly or we were going to lose him.

“Something, something drastic is happening” she said. Her shirt was soaked in his crimson glow.

I looked at her, then to him. I could tell she was trying to be calm. She wiped his forehead with such a tender touch to rid the beads of sweat away. He grimaced and squeezed her hand.

He was dying. She knew, I knew it. There are no rules for this scenario. Paramedics weren’t going to get here in time.

I took out a cigarette and put it to my mouth. It fell. My lips, so dry, too dry to even hold the damn cigarette.

“Aren’t you going to do something? Why are you just standing there?!?!” she screamed at me through her tears.

She pulled out her pocket bible and scrambled to find Psalm 23.

I saw him first. He was lying there on the patio.

He had just got off work.

I was coming over to drop a CD off. Kings of Leon.

Hemoptysis. Spitting his blood everywhere.

The doctor told us most patients who die from hemoptysis suffer from asphyxiation (lack of oxygen) due to too much blood in the airways.

He had been shot 3 times. A couple of guys tried to break into his house and when he fought back one of them pulled out a gun and shot him. The cops still have no leads on who did it.

22 years old.

God and I are going to have a conversation. Maybe he can lead me in the paths of righteousness. And with his rod and staff, I will lie down these evildoers that have done this monstrosity.

grandpa likes Brut.

Hey, just puke and get this over with babe. You taste like captain and coke. Don’t worry I’m shielding your long, stringy hair back.

She looked up at me with her big blue eyes and took a deep breath. My aftershave, Brut. She stole it from Wall-Mart and thought it was cologne. I grinned a little, and she dry heaved. She made decisions based on impulse. That’s why I hooked up with her in the first place.

First time I met her she was shwasteddd. She eyed me from across the bonfire and staggered over to sit in my lap. She started to sing “Lover I don’t have to love” by Bright Eyes. I fell in love with her that day.

She told me she never wanted to drink again. I knew that was a lie.  She hugged the porcelain tightly and dry heaved some more. Skinny little thing. I was afraid she would puke out her innards. She reached out for my hand and instead of my hand I gave her a cup of water. She smacked it right out of my hand and inserted her hand roughly into mine. I chuckled and told her she was stubborn.

She asked me if I was ever going to leave her. I looked at her. What a hot mess. She had sweat dripping off her tangled hair and mascara running down her cheeks.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“No, are you going to leave me, ever?”
“I cant tell the future!”
“I can…we are going to make it. You are wearing the cologne I got you.”

I smiled and told her everything was going to be okay.

We went searching for God.

We walked and walked. If I asked my legs to stop, they didn’t. They did what they wanted. Press on, press on. She dared me to lie in the middle of the road for 30 seconds. Psh, easy. While I sprawled out on the cool asphalt I watched altocumulous stratiformis clouds roll by. It was serene. Time was like these clouds. We watched as it passed us by without even knowing it. It’s crazy when you stop for a second, a minute to watch time unfold before your eyes.

Deep breath in. Exhale slowly as the smoke pours into the atmosphere creating a dense cloud of its own. I told her to push pause on the sky so we could grasp the moment. She giggled and said “Already done.” I reached up through the smoke cloud I had just puffed into existence to untangle my thoughts. After straightening out my thoughts we saw the moon in its entire glory. Full blown, naked and finally alone.

I gazed at it. She said something. I gazed in a lost stupor. I handed her the black-n-mild without looking and ash fell into her lap. She slugged my arm after she brushed it away with ease. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” She questioned me.

Hey hold that thought, the moon is about to be fully clothed, again.

it’s the system. let’s test the fire escapes.

He told me what I was doing was pernicious.

She kept fidgeting. I wasn’t nervous. I knew I was strong enough. I knew. I adjusted my sweat band so that it was centered on my forehead just right. She kept changing positions, like, every 5 seconds. I could tell she was eager, yet, hesitant. Just where I wanted her. The futon was quite comfortable and fit the two of us perfectly. The movie didn’t matter. It was “The Royal Tenenbaums,” if you had to know. I got out my Bic lighter and played around keeping my cool.

Her hair was up. Dirty blond and puffed up a tad in the front creating a bump effect. She smelled like nectarines mixed with fake tanner. She was wearing a white, spaghetti strapped tee and short, and I emphasize short blue jean shorts. These were the shorts with fringe hanging out the bottom.

One of her straps gracefully slips off her shoulder falling towards her bicep. She bites her lip and looks over to see if I am starring. I am. I kept starring too. She smiles and leans in towards me shoulder first. I respond by reciprocating her movement.  I let my head shift sideways for our lips to meet up just right. She is so close I can feel her hot breathe. Her eyes are closed and I line up everything  just right, placing my upper lip on her bottom lip, then slyly, I drag it away. This leaves her entranced pushing her lips out into thin air searching for contact.

I reach into my pocket pulling out my phone and notice its 10:55. My phone rings and her eyes open quickly. She is startled and clueless. I tell her I have to go. She doesn’t understand, and I don’t expect her to. I take my headband off quickly and escort her to the door. She isn’t smiling and she wants answers. I tell her I will tell her eventually. She stomps off telling me to call her later. I agree and then slam the door.

Success. I call my sponser and let him know that I will not be attending my next 12 steps meeting.

Man overboard.

Left snap, then right snap. There is a constant beat in my head.  ON separate occasions we made out to Transatlanticism. Once, no, twice we almost made a commitment.

She bites her lip too much and shakes the bed while she sleeps. She comes with extra luggage, which I have no room for. The beat, the beat goes one-two-da-da-one-two-da-da-da-one-two-da.

She wears crimson red lipstick and I’m not a fan. She likes Green Day and the RedHotChiliPeppers. Yep, you guessed it, not a fan. She is a vegetarian, which really pisses me off. The beat, plays on da-da-da-boom-boom-da-da- boom-boom-da.

I’m lying on my bed, looking up towards the ceiling, thinking about Colorado while she blabs on about the county fair coming up. She wants me to take her to see the rabbits. She is now telling me about how she wants to get a tattoo of a peace sign behind her ear. I tell her that’s pointless, no one would see it. She starts to cry. I don’t mind, I am in a different place. Carving the snowy mountains and getting air. She tries to cuddle with me. I roll over and contemplate asking her to leave.

She sits up and asks if I am okay. I tell her I don’t want to see her anymore, even though we aren’t technically dating. On her way out she slips on a condom. This is when I came back from Colorado.

“You are a asshole-douche bag-bastard-liar who only cares about himself! I hope you rot in hell.”

She was beautiful, but she didn’t mean a thing to me- death cab for cutie

I hit stop on my ipod speaker and then got back into bed and fell asleep.
When I wake up, she is standing by my ipod. She hits play and it’s Green Day, Warning, she then proceeds to destroy my room. I lay in my bed, not able to move because she has me tied. I don’t know whats worse, being tied up or having to listen to Billie Joe’s voice.

What happened next is a blur to me. All I know is she injected something into me. I came to and I had sharp pain behind my ear. I felt around and my fingers found an outline. I passed out.

I quickly got up and ran into the bathroom to see the outline:

I heart Teresa, almost as much as I love Green Day.

Hiccups in the aftermath of a fatality.

He watched the clock as they ripped my intestines out of body. They listened to Bring Me the Horizon, a “brOOtal” band I’m told. They kept chanting lyrics as they tore me limb from limb. Barely breathing and before they removed my heart I had an out of body experience. I was sitting next to my husband in the waiting room. I looked him over. His tight navy blue v-neck stained with my blood. I smiled at him while he dropped his gaze from the clock into his calloused hands. He cared deeply for me. Bought me flowers once a week. A real sweetheart. As I sat there I didn’t cry.  I put my tiny arms around him and kissed his neck O’ so tenderly. I think, I think he may have felt my kiss. He quickly brought his head up. Ah, the doctor is here.

“I am so sorry…There was nothing more we could do.”

I watched as he took the news. His cheeks squished upwards as tears streamed down his face. Then the Nathan Burns I grew to love came out. He quickly took off his shirt, covered in me, and threw it into the doctors face. As he walked away the doctor said “Your wife was a donor, we are going to be able to save 9 lives.”

“Fuck you.” Nathan screamed as he darted out the emergency doors.

My out of body experience ended.

if we drink, we drink on special occasions…of course.

how many girls taste like washington apples? The liquor the liquor, trust the liquor its definitely the right choice. 1 dollar beers at a bar on the outskirts of Jackson, Michigan. The local townie says it’s Obama’s plan for restructuring the economy. How many Jager bombs for the bros to get lucky.

Can you two step? Can you party boy? Or is it the bump, the grind that gets you off? Move fast, move slow, the hips damn it, don’t forget the hips! The liquor the liquor, trust the liquor its definitely the right choice.

“Sir, sir…” as she held up her hands while her fingers spread apart, her cuticles were plastered with fresh 1.6 inch nail extensions (whoever did it was sloppy with the glue obviously)… “I’m not sure if you know our policy but it is a TEN dollars to open up a tab. O’ sweet podunk town of Jackson, Michigan, if only we all were simplistic and drank TEN 1 dollar beers and then returned to our mobile homes.

He laughed and said, “10 dollars? Phew, that’s steep, guess I better start off with some liquor then huh”

I lift weights, sorta.

I need to feel alive she said. She bit her lip and let go of my hand walking towards a taller, shaggy hair character. He was smiling way too much. I mean, like his whites were showing. This d-bag probably used those crest white strips religiously.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dime bag. I toked up in my suit. I unbuttoned the coat and ran my fingers through my gelled hair. Too much, too much damn product. She swore it was a “business-like” do.

As I’m soaking up what just happened this punk ass kid approaches me and says hes got some dank stuff if I’m interested. I ask him who’s the president of the united states. He gives me a strange look and tells me I have too much gel in my hair. “You want some or not,”  he persists. I tell him he needs to get a degree. Grow up, shave that half-scraggly-weak excuse for a mustache and focus on whats important. He flips me off and says “When was the last time you got laid?”

He laughs and then walks away. I am sitting in broad daylight, like in front of a Starbucks on the main drag. I mean, shit, did i really just toke up?

I am pretty relaxed, I needed it.  I just got dumped for crest white strip guy who probably plays the guitar. I’ll show her alive. Before I could make my next move, which would have consisted of me getting off this bench my thoughts/next movement was interrupted by either a Jehovah’s witness or Bible salesman. Had to be the latter because I wasn’t at home. Man, this shit is good.

“Hey sir, do you have time for me to blab on about how you need to turn your life around and focus on what’s important? I have a cross tract we can go over. Prob take, 5 minutes?”

Yeah, that sounds like a plan, but have you seen a kid running around selling dank stuff? Supposed to be good shit, I mean, good stuff. Will this cross tract make me feel alive?

Newrostacia plasterfactious

We took a drive hitting the pavement with nervous energy. What would tonight bring? We already slaved away for the man today; the night was unlocked for our demise. We paraded around town windows down cranking Wilco’s You and I. Reeking in the air was asphalt and gasoline. I couldn’t help but notice your cracked smile. Glossy green eyes staring into the abyss of night wondering where I was taking you. If you only knew the things I was capable of.

Her body was aching for my touch. Her left hand was stroking her inner thigh gently. It was a slow steady pace as if she was scratching her leg not noticing the sensual attitude she was carrying. I placed my hand on her naked leg and squeezed feeling the instant horripilation. Her left hand automatically clasped around my fore arm. She stared straight. The cracked smile morphed into her incisors grazing the fat of her bottom lip causing her orbicularis oris to have no mobility at all. If she could hear the way I described her movements. Body language is a dangerous thing.

Rest stop. She thought normal thoughts I am sure of it. I mean, I worked for a grocery store and took people’s money all day long. I was a responsible manager there. I looked clean cut and fit the mold of the prototypical male that girls desired. I was also in my 2nd year of med school. I would have loads of money at my disposal. I was on my way to being somebody. She was probably salivating at the thought of owning a 5 bedroom, 3 baths, pool, hot tub and a lush green yard in a safe community where she and her handsome husband would raise 4 beautiful children. If only someone would tell her those dreams were fading, and fading fast. If only a stranger would kidnap her from this car as I tell you this. You must think I am a lunatic but honestly I wish someone would steal my car, with her in it.

As I looked into the mirror and the image looking back at me laughed, I knew I was insane. I took out a scalpel and made an incision from my index finger to the crease in my palm. The skin splitting in two like when Moses parted the Red Sea. My blood was draining off the sides of my forefinger. The image in the mirror displaying nothing but enamel and malar rising on both sides. I pressed my open wound, crease of the palm first on the mirror. Then I relaxed my index finger on the mirror which caused me to let out a scream of anguish. At this point blood was trickling down my arm. This isn’t med school shit; this is common sense that you learn growing up. You elevate the limb, apply direct pressure to the wound and the bleeding should stop sooner or later. The thing is, my wound is in need of medical attention. I’m losing blood fast. DO NOT TIE A TOURNIQUET EXCEPT AS A VERY LAST RESORT — Tourniquets are dangerous. This was something I learned.

I was grimacing with the pain and it had been 7 minutes 23 seconds since I left her waiting in the car. My blood was starting to stain the mirror, turning to a darker, dirtier red. There was a puddle of blood in the sink. I planned this out perfectly. Rest stop, late at night…I mean, no interruptions. She had to be worried by now. 9 minutes and I have yet to return. I can hear footsteps. Then a faint voice through the door. Then it gets louder. Blood still oozing out from my laceration. I take my hand off the mirror and stagger to the trashcan. I kneel behind the odor lingering in the air from the trash held within the can. The door creaks open slightly. “Hunny, you okay? EW, what’s that smell?” The door opens more and she peaks her head in. Her sternocleidomastoid muscle allowing her to move her head from left to right. She eyes the mirror and her hand covers her mouth in a quick fashion. She takes three steps in slowly and says, “Chaz, are you okay? What the hell is going on?!?”  She’s getting closer to the mirror now and I am like a cougar who stalks its prey to within 30 feet before pouncing from its hiding place. And then it happens like I have been a murderer for quite sometime. She notices the trail of blood, but it’s too late. My good hand is grasping the back of her neck as she shrieks while I plunge my Red Sea into her throat past her uvula gagging her as her feet scamper on the tile floor making scuff marks. There is no help, no police officer in the neighborhood. There is no God saving her from her demise. What there is, is blood trickling into her body. It doesn’t take long for her to choke and die. Her body is limp and lifeless and I let it drop to the floor with a thud. I take out my scalpel and cut off her forefinger blood squirting everywhere. I put her finger in my pocket and I head out of the rest stop leaving her carcass behind. I get into the car open the glove box and get out my stitching supplies. I pour alcohol over the wound which brings tears to percolate out of my eyes. I stitch up the wound in 6 minutes 33 seconds and hit the pavement with blood on every article of clothing I am wearing. There is blood on the seat, wheel, shifter, dashboard, glove box, and last but not least on the rear-view mirror which still radiates an image with pure white sinister teeth smiling from ear to ear. It’s almost as if you can hear its blood curdling laugh.

In chicago we made faces at lincoln.

I am traveling on a road with no means. I mean what did I expect? I have been wrestling tigers and panthers like it’s my everyday duty. If only I could breathe underwater again and swim into the secret cave where the oxygen lets me gasp. O’ to gasp and leap onto the tiny beach-bed we used to converse on. I remember when you would whisper into my ear and tell me about fast trains and horses with wings. We used to believe we stared in Alice in Wonderland.

Now its tall buildings, fancy automobiles and loans. Close your eyes, you kept telling me. Shake your head in a manner that makes you forget where you are. You loved to make me feel at peace.

It was the jewelry, the necklaces and bracelets with chambers of different remedies. There was the bad dreams light blaster juice. The I don’t want to ever grow up fairytale land lemonade. The dangerous cooling cooties Koolaid. On various occasions these would be used and things would seem better.

Give me a damn wishing well.

It’s not lingering on the past. It’s wanting to feel the quarter flicking off of my thumb and forefinger and actually believing my every word was going to come true…

Backpacking in pajamas.

I can feel the decay like a baby growing out of it’s tiny booty socks. Each laugh is a little shorter. Things are mind numbing at times. I choose to lay under my sheets a little longer these days.

It’s like her taste is still lingering on my lips. I have been thinking about a road trip for months now. I was thinking about living out of a backpack but of course I know it just wouldn’t happen. I am tied down with the debt of tomorrow. I heard she was doing fine. I guess a few months is enough time to make the past a distant bad after taste. O’ how she used to write me about forever and ever. I keep looking at a picture of this one girl I know who laid prostrate on a highway in North Dakota. The image displaying crystal clear blue watery sky filled with thin wispy clouds of dreams I’ll never see come to fruition. She looked so content.  “God, wouldn’t it be splendid to leave this frigid state and go to Europe? I would become a successful artist and you babe, an architect.” I would crack a smile for her and tell her on one condition…”Darling, only if you agree to paint in the nude at all times.”

I rode the train just to watch people the other day. It was awkward at times. I mean, I felt like a tourist with a shirt that said “I heart New York.” I found myself looking directly into peoples souls. I had this one character move to the other side away from my gaze. I realized I needed to be a bit more conspicuous. She used to look into my soul and know my every move. Her eyes were like bolts of electricity shocking me to the very core. She would tell me you could learn a lot just by watching people. This wasn’t her only excuse for people watching. She enjoyed the different fashions and facades people would put up. I hated how she judged people sometimes.

I find myself falling in and out of touch with reality. This morning I woke up with her in my bed. “Babe, would you like a cup of coffee?”  My arms longing to squeeze her close to my chest. There is no imprint in my sheets where she used to lay.

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Love is a dartboard with a plethora of holes that we are trying to fill. It’s like a hole in the knee of your favorite pants. Patch it up darling, it’s only love we’re dealing with…

i want death to the color red.

i walked to 5th and Madison. It was raining and very chilly. I stole a couple of blanks from you to make a perfect mix. It was Band of Horses, Ben Gibbard, Blitzen Trapper and Minus the Bear getting me from block to block. My elbows were getting wet. This jacket, your jacket, so tight and worn down. I was kidnapping your wardrobe. I fought you for it. Metrosexual.  You told me you wanted cherries and diet koolaid. They don’t make diet koolaid. I didn’t tell you that. You knew. 5th and Madison.

Here I am. On the corner faking it. This jacket reeks of cigarettes. The rain is going on at a continuous rate. My portable cd player is peeking out of your jacket. I am trying to cover it up the best I can with my hand. My hand is starting to numb. I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo. And I know what you’re thinking. No, its not because you like them. My hair isn’t wet. Well, most of it isn’t anyways. The hood on this jacket is decent, but you know that. It’s definitely tattered and overworked but it covers almost all of my hair. It’s my bangs, sprawling out wildly from every which way. You said you liked my frizzy bedhead. I’m zipped up. You spend most of your days and nights in this jacket. Red. 3 holes. The ends of this jacket are splitting like strands of hair. And when I say it zips up, I mean halfway. The zipper actually stops. Too many shows. Too many gaddamn nights.

I remember the first time. You. Me. I was sweating pretty much head to toe after a Death Cab show and I saw you. That red jacket. Half zipped. You were wearing charcoal skinny jeans. Dirty white vans. You looked my way then pulled out a cigarette. Camel, how classy. You were such a bitch. I rubbed my hand through my dripping hair and walked over to you.

Your hair was short and jagged at the ends. You had a monroe. Lips that johannson would be proud of. You blew smoke into my face.

“Enjoy the show?” I proceeded to cough.
“It wasn’t their best. Want to come back to my place?” You were so to the point.
“Um.”
Before I answered you grabbed my hand and led me a couple blocks north of the venue. We arrived and you wouldn’t let me come in.

“Thanks.” She curtsied. That was it. That was you. I couldn’t believe it.

5th and Madison. Where are we going? Like this jacket I’m exhausted and worn down. You are casual and happy-go-lucky. And here I am, picking up shit that you want.

5th and Madison. The rain never stops.

snorkling would be nice

I am sitting in a room full of pink walls. Couple Elvis cutouts and leftovers from another life. Nothing feels right. No place to call home. It’s scary when ya realize you are done with phases of your life.

I do have my music. I’m listening to the Strokes “The end is not the end.” I am two seconds away from drawing on these wretched walls.

I thought about Cincinnati. I am miles away starring at the floor. I think I fantasize just to keep the depression going.

It’s the dark days. Those stupid moments where you caught me glancing. It’s a waiting game. It’s a game of cat and mouse. I flirted. You didn’t. What a devil.

I cant sleep. I wont sleep. The day, its gone. Now, its just me and you. You aren’t actually here. It’s just pathetic. I roll over. I toss and turn. Work is looming in the aftermath of another day. O’ consistency, O’ the wretched pattern. 9-5 will be the death of me.

Trust me when I say I will learn Japanese.

bows and tight pants.

The bass drops. I can barely see. There’s the bitch with long hair whipping it back and forth in front of me. The tips or ends of her long ass hair are wet from sweat. Each head thrust I am flogged by those tips. I am surrounded by countless scenesters. Behind me is a loyal fan. Well, I mean, I guess he is because he’s wearing the bands t-shirt like a noob. Every once in a while I can feel his junk on me. It’s repulsive, enough to start something. I try to move but I am squished on both sides by two scene kids wearing handkerchiefs over their mouths.  Honestly, they look stupid. I mean, there is no dust. Like they would even know what I am talking about if I told them about the real reason for wearing those. O here we go.

Bass drop, boom-boom bang. The lead singer keeps flipping us off and spitting into the sea of scene kids. He fist pumps then beats his chest. Then puts his hand to his throat like a karate chop slicing left to right. Then chaos takes place. Bass drop, boom-chiga chiga-boom-chiga-chiga-BOOM.

While all this is taking place the girl in front of me is taking a fist to the back of the head. It’s me. I act like I am fist pumping, however, that is not the case. She turns around real quick and I duck her facial expression grabbing both handkerchief  bros. Gravity does the rest. They bash their heads together with my force in front of her. I donkey kick the kid behind me square in the ABR logo creating some space. Next, I windmill the shit out of the chorus. The girl looks disgusted but doesn’t dare to do anymore head whips. The bros with the handkerchiefs have these gay ass smiles on their faces. “Dude, that was sooo brOOtal. Isn’t this band legit?” I stare at them for like 12 seconds. Their smiles slowly fade  and they turn their attention back to the stage. I light up a cigarette, finally.

if you think you’re alive, then you’re better off dead…

now throw your diamonds  in the sky, well stay gone forever. —bringmethehorizon

carry you with me.

Watching you unfold is painful.
each passing remark and each hidden
vein.
Deeper you drift
away
before i tail off into another state line.
You are getting
off
while I am miles
apart-
from you is where I need to be.
have to be.
angel dust starter kit.
oceans and beaten paths
lead me to
syringes
full of
you.

Sleep, with a hand on the bible

It’s scary, the thought of
being alone-
without a soul to make sense of
this strange world.
We exchange pleasantries and pray for
peace and happiness that does not
exist.
Full of malice and corruption
we seek to destroy each other.
Tip this way,
and that way-
only to let the bad out do the
good.
Can he become him and
she try to be her?
Tie the rope around my neck tighter,
please.

in a pool, we swam until we felt clean.

Lost in an abyss of my own sorrow I long to ache for you.
Stagnant in this chair I write about love, religion, politics and sarcasm.
Ashtrays full of this nights sin.
God’s got grace, but I don’t understand what to do with it.
Addicted to defacing culture, yet the how remains suggestive.
Blah!
What is wrong with cliches? Why do I loathe simplistic existence?
I like music that I dont even know the lyrics to.
I don’t understand why God  is not black and white.
Wouldn’t that be easier?
Why are pleasurable things easy to succumb to?
Circle movie themed life or crusades.
It’s all a made up story and we are trying to pick our
happy ending.

Ann Arbor Adventure

I wonder what people do to pass the time. Ann Arbor called me yesterday and told me I simply had to visit asap. It was  Urban Outfitters, a preacher on the corner and Trippers alley that caught my attention when I ventured out there.

We saw boarders carving long parking lot structures and gallivanting about the city. I met a guy named Demitri, who at first made me nervous. He pointed me in the right direction. How beautiful is Trippers alley. Discombobulated majestic works of art splattered all over the alley. The color is enough to make your head spin. There is no ceiling, no floor. Just graffiti in every direction you look. I cant fathom being apart of this escapade. Was it collected works over time or a bunch of taggers who got together and said “let’s claim this alley and make it our kingdom.” Who gets what area? Of course, there is overlap. There are also people who have spread their rebellious disease all over the place in this kingdom of art. Let’s be original and put curse words all over the place? The coolest part to the whole wall is this vibrant fireball orange graffiti writing that says  “Live.” It amazed me. Amongst the chaos of colors, words, and pictures the “Live” remains untouched. Beautiful.

On my way back that night I saw a “preacher” on the side of the street with his lackey  passing out “pamphlets.” The bullhorn guy kept speaking about the bible and how we need to turn from our wicked ways. He was actually beating the bible in his hands. His lackey had this dumbass smile on his face like he was accomplishing a crusade of some sort.

Someone yelled of a car window passing by-

Jesus was relational! Jesus was relational! Jesus was relational!

Live.

on a stoner couch

Tragedy is waking up still trying. I am going to close my eyes right now and envision no existence. My, my that’s a scary thought. I am now going to believe that heaven is satisfactory and live differently. What does that even mean…

Human nature is unbelievable.  I am mask of enigma nightmares that daily warp my mind. Day in and day out I exist simply to hate myself the next day. Start to finish, beginning to end- where is the handicap and white flag.

sifting through idly

I touched the sky the other day. Played with the cotton ball clouds and flirted with the sun first, then the moon came. Underneath it all I felt nothing.

Who is there, who can keep such a constraint on everything. Where is your face? In the crumbling wall, the chocolate pie, the picture bible?

Vessel of spirit, soul amongst heart. The cross is being rendered.

In a moments glance I am sitting on a cloud and I am at peace with whatever is happening below.

O’ imagination take me.

 

paint the sky with whatever you like

We walked in perfect steps, like we did this all the time. Honest to God truth, it was our first walk. I looked at her, she looked away. I reached for her hand, she took out a cig, lit it and exhaled like she had lung cancer. She was cavalier, I was 19.

Two months, 4 days. I lost sleep, weeks ago. I currently binge drink, then sleep comes naturally? I have 4 alarm clocks currently. Two are disfigured. Other two, well, get me to work. My meals include: Frozen food and red bull.

She has my boxers, two band t-shirts ( minus the bear and mgmt), and my stoooopid class ring. She probably pawned that off.

I have a half-beard-composed of scraggly pubic looking hair. My friends tell me I look french with a mustache. Greasy hair and cardigans everyday. I think my own mother wouldnt recognize me.

Okay, I know you want to know…

 

so do i.

My band plays tonight at the blue ribbon.

Heads are swaying back in forth, rhythmic movement all around. Beer and clouds of smoke.

There she is. Bitch. Shes kissing some tattooed hippy. Moves on quick, id say. she knows the torture method.

Gigs over.

Three shots, 6 shots-I approach.

“O’ hey”-bitch says.
“Shirts, boxers, and class ring.”-drunkard (me)
“You  gotta problem man?”- hippy
“Yeah, shes got STD’s.” – drunkard

Uproar. Black eyes, blood the whole spiel.

“You have  some nerve, I was too much for you. You gotta live babe, see the world.” -bitch

See the world she says. Too much? ha, ha…ha.

 

 

You know I’m tired.

Sitting here with you, I lose touch with reality. Honestly, how are we supposed to do this? I can’t get over sleep overs, movies we critiqued and wine we drank.

Prozac and a new high. I’m bored with the antics of normalcy. What feels  good is always the worst decision.

I remember you on top, we were breathing heavy. To continue? Why! Why! I lost 2 months, you recovered your lost “love.”

A filler.

Time is a cruel fiend that we all anticipate. Wrap me up in religion and send me to Budapest.

When I arrive give me a shack and the food I need. Tell me America has gone up in flames.

red light, madness?

I was hanging out with my married friend the other day and we were looking for a red box.

We pulled up to a light. Looked over to see an older couple around 50. The lady in the passenger seat turned our way to see my friend staring in her direction. She mouthed something to him. I saw my friends initial reaction from a smile to confusion happen in seconds. He rolled down the window to see what she was saying. At this point I thought she was going to curse out my friend “the young punk” who she thought was making fun of her.

She simply rolled down her window and said “Merry Christmas.” Her husband also chimed in “yeah, merry christmas!”

I couldn’t stop laughing. Why was this so out of the ordinary? Why were we both expecting her to say something mean?

These moments make me happy.

its life, what more could you ask for?

A slight twitch and that’s the spot. I look for exits that don’t exist. My pupils flip behind my eye lids and I am lost in the moment. I think of everything I’m not supposed to think about. The other day, last year, memories. When it’s done I roll over and fall asleep. When I wake up, she is there.

I wonder what people are thinking about when they wait in elevators? As I stand in the elevator waiting for the 9-5 to commence there are 4 others with me. I feel tired but I’m not. Regular 7 hours of sleep as always.
A cough, a sneeze, a cleared throat are all that’s heard on the way up.

My phone goes off. “I want your horror, I want your disease.”
Gaga means its my finance calling.

The four others in the elevator try not to laugh.
I simply smirk and say “My finance sets these up.”

I bet they are judging me right now. All of them, especially the two girls because I chose to ignore the call. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to her, I just saw her literally like 10 minutes ago. I mean damn, cant I have some alone time?

The 36 floor. Finally. I hate this job.

far away i am happy

The truth is I lost it. I wandered into open arms and loose lips helplessly. I admit I was a fool. Too many first kisses and I’m left with an empty couch in an empty apartment. I listen to depressing music because its soothing to know that someone else is being real somewhere. Sitting here alone I realize my need for attention. My phone isn’t blowing up anymore. I stumble upon old documents on my computer reminding me of past times. Reminiscing is bittersweet. No matter how I look at it, it seems better times were behind me. I guess people would just say I am forgetting the good times. Well, I used to think that was true-until I spent endless months pondering how shitty the day was. If life is a sick cycle carousel then I am ready to puke. I live for moments that only happen once in a while. A butterfly feeling, a good deed, helping someone else and accomplishing something. Lately, I’ve been wondering about failure. I guess when I look back at my life I see a bunch of accomplishments that only made me think I was someone.

We are told things aren’t normal if we aren’t constantly being entertained or happy. Well, I am here to warn you that happiness doesn’t seem to exist 75% of the day in the 21 century. Let’s put on our happy faces because no one can really deal with someone being depressed daily. My favorite question is  “How are you doing?” and answering it with “not good” only to find the “genuine” ones response  “it can only get better.” What does that even mean…Yay for optimism.

The crazy thing is I want to be all these different things. I just want to know that I will succeed and be happy no matter what. So much pressure to be great, to bail out family traditions.

My thoughts venture too far sometimes.

45 minutes of an early morning moment.

He went to bed at ten o clock last night. When he realized there was nothing to stay up for he understood the only thing that made sense was to try to forget there was nothing to stay up for and pass the time sleeping. What he did not imagine was that he would wake up early. Early as in have to start another day. Sure he got maybe an extra hour or two of sleep in but when your body is trained to wake up 8 hours later it just does. He tried to forget these details. He rolled over, tried to pull the covers up to his chin for comfort but found his eyes wide awake. The sun was just coming up. He hadn’t seen the sun come up in quite some time. To be honest, the last time he was up this early was when he was dating the one we will not mention. It has been some time and to remind him of her might not be the best thing for him. Especially considering how things have been as of late.

This morning he awoke to find there was no water in the fridge. What he did find was “Simply lemonade.” A pink raspberry flavor. He poured a glass in a content way thinking it was a much healthier option than to drink the old, flat coke they had used a week ago to mix drinks with. He smiled when he opted for the raspberry lemonade. Maybe this day would be a better day. They always say, early bird gets the worm. While sipping his lemonade he wondered what the worm would be today. Possibly grad school applications? A new idea for a car? Or what if it was simply another boring 4 hours until class?

Facebook of course was the first thing he checked. It seems normal for one to be plugged into the social network early in the day…
A couple of notifications and a few “liked” statuses later and the “newish” feel of the day wears off. The lemonades almost gone and its only 8:22.

He pauses. Takes a look around his computer to find the stillness pleasant. Could it be? Was he enjoying his early morning? One things for sure he didn’t hit the alarm more than once this  morning. That was a first! I’ll bet his roommate thanks him for that. This of course would mean that his roommate wakes up sometime before noon. See, the thing is, his roommate is the one who our hero lives vicariously through. Roommate X is doing the things he wished sometimes he could let go and do. X is staying out late, hooking up with his girlfriend, smoking pot and hanging out with friends shooting the shit. X lives his life, our hero believes.

6 minutes of thinking about his roommates life and he needs a refill of raspberry lemonade and maybe a leftover slice of pep pizza from two nights ago.

Our hero really isnt much of a hero. In his mind he thinks someday that’s what he will become. Right now, however, our hero is more concerned about whether he should get a tattoo or not. Whether, he should travel or play blackjack professionally. In a smaller scale, he contemplates whether he should watch “Freaks and Geeks” or reruns of “Friends.”

Something seems different about this day. He decides its time for a change, he will watch “Community.”

let it all out: snippets of a conversation piece

She knew I hated this. I swear to god if I had the resources things would have been different. I wanted to make things-well, at least I thought-okay despite the circumstances.
“A double cheeseburger with ketchup only and a large fry and a parfait and 2 apple pies and a chocolate milkshake.” She smirked at me with a vengeance. I was eating my words from earlier, “Get whatever you want.”

The young man behind the counter looked at me in a queer manner, possibly wondering what the hell I was doing with this girl. But mostly I thought he was judging the quality of the date I chose. Either way he made me feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll just take a number ten with a coke.”

After we got our food and sat down I wanted to leave. I swear I would have left McDonalds if I wasnt there to prove something. Joelle was 19, a dirty blonde,  spoiled brat-that I was helplessly in love with. I lost my job recently and so went her precious dates. This was now us, whether she was on board or not, was the question at hand. I mean, my last year of college was looming in the air and I was trying to get another job and keep my girlfriend happy. Even though I was stressed I was complacent in us-until this date.
“How’s the food?” I stammered.
“How do you think it is?” Jo shot back. “Exactly why did you get fired?”
“I dont want to talk about it.” She was always pressing me. I wanted to tell her, honest, I just knew she would cause a goddamn scene. She was twisting her straw around and around lingering on what she was about to say next. I saw her lips form words but nothing came out. She glanced up from her milkshake and looked at me.
“I co-could talk to my dad?”
“Jo, stop. This is temporary, dont ya love me baby?” I almost wanted those words back the moment I said um. The expression on her face said it all. She didnt love me anymore. It was always about the goddamn money and dates and material things. Was I that ignorant this whole time? Love makes ya stupid, I swear to god I was totally oblivious to all of this.

“Eric, you know I love you-it just makes me angry knowing you are keeping stuff from me. What happened?”

Jo sure was good at fishing for information. She knew she could manipulate me to get what she wanted. I remember this one time we were at the park a couple days before her birthday just hanging out. I was reading Faulkner while she read Cosmo. She looked up from her Cosmo in a daze, and I knew she was thinking about what I had got her for her birthday. She was always trying to obtain hints or guess or squeeze details out of me. I tried to tell her nothing that day and she about broke up with me because of it. She accused me of not being honest with her. At the time, I remember thinking she was cute as hell all up in fits about what I was getting her for her birthday.

“Eric. I’m right here? Gah, I swear you never pay attention to me.”

She was really getting off to the sound of her own voice. I was really starting to get annoyed-but honest to god I didnt wanna lose her. Funny thing love is, huh?

“Im listening to ya, I just need a moment.” I took out a cigarette knowing full well you couldnt smoke in a Mcdonalds. At the time I didnt give a damn.

“Eric, what is this thing we are doing? I mean, it’s been nice-will you look at me damn it! Put that cigarette out, dont you know where we are!?!”

I took a long drag contemplating what she just said. OF course she had to remind me where we were. Typical Jo. I really wanted to jet and listen to the Smiths all night and fall asleep only to wake up to this never happening.

“Eric, I swear I am going to leave if you dont listen to me!”

I ashed my cigarette letting the grey mess fall to the floor. I noticed an employee heading in our direction. I couldnt get myself to do a goddamn thing. Every ounce of me wanted to say “Fuck you, I’m done.” On the other hand, I knew of the good times we had shared. There was-and uh-I was blanking. I knew there good times, I swear to you there were. I mean, gimme a break I have a lot on my mind. She was still talking but I didnt hear one word she said. It was the prick behind the counter heading our way.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We do not tolerate behavior like this.” He sounded all goddamn political.

Jo was laughing. I didnt know what about nor did I care. Then she shook my arm.

“Eric, I’ve been cheating on you for quite some time now. I’m real sorry baby, but this thing we have is over.”

My cigarette called out to me and I answered with another long but relaxing drag. I exhaled right into the young man’s face. You shoulda seen his goddamn face. He told me he was going to call the cops. By this time, Jo was making her exit. I sat there with my 5 dollar meal contemplating what to do next. I started feeling real depressed, I usually never get this way. I tellya what though, I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I decided  I needed to get up and leave before the cops got there. I knew that was first on my list of things to do.

Damn, I got an expository essay due tomorrow. I guess the Smiths will have to wait…

Act smart-wicked knot.

I don’t know what to do when I am holding your hand. I can feel the horror creeping over me. A disaster causes damage, and it is dangerous. When will you recognize the blank expression on my face. Speak up louder, I can barely hear the vulgarity. Linger, linger lovely lady look lonely no more. Thoughts, mere words begging to exit my mouth.  Filthy foul-finished with the  slip of my tongue.

I want it all-but I get none of you-because I simply can not, will not, stack up to him. Curse the very day my dilated pupils caught your glare. I would rather succumb to my old friend teener than try to win you over.

Seriously loaded up-cant think straight anymore.
Tap-tap on my door, but you aren’t real. I open my door politely nonetheless, and see you have brought a full size mirror. What is this, what are you doing here, at my door!
Look she, you, say to I who is me. Long streaky and ratty and greasy locks of my own hair staring at me. Colorless, well, blood-shot veins scattered over the width of my two dear eyeballs glistening no more. My bottom half is naked to my liking, I ask if she is willing-I am able. There is no laughing only the sound of silence piercing through me as I recognize the image is starting to creep me out. My knees start to tremble-like and helplessly I fall to the floor. To my dismay, I have started to piss. My lowest has arrived. Tears mixed with piss, with spit, with the dust of the ground. This is life-the pinnacle of defeat.
I faintly hear her. She is with me-at my lowest. Lowest. There are others now. Detox, detox the word I desperately despise.

Her hand is not there-but maybe after.

and-and-and I tried-and I am.

It started with dinner, and ended with goodbye.

We drove separate cars and planned nothing further and further was just an after thought.

I picked up some candy for my kids, and returned to my pinstriped green lazy boy to read Spin before bed.

I dreamed of another life, another forecast, another fully furnished apartment. I was happy and in love. Wilco was playing down the road and you were there. When I arrived at the show-soaking wet from a torrential downpour-you smiled at me. As I walked towards you my feet felt heavy like my shoes had been filled with lead. Desperately, I tried to make my way to you, but I couldnt. The floor boards were now collapsing and there was a great chasm between us. Gravity started to pull me towards the dark abyss and further away from you. As I began to fall I never once let my eyes wander from you. You started to become blurry, but my gaze was fixated upon you. I never seemed to lose hope even though I was now falling into the chasm. I lost you once, I was determined not to lose you again. I cried out your name over and over and over again.

“Mommy, mommy! What’s wrong?”

I was drenched in sweat when I awoke. My eyes swelled with tears and I tried to be strong, tried to fight back my emotions. Looking at my children I knew I had to pull it together. You were gone. That was that.

“Mommy was just having a-a…bad dream. It’s okay, we are okay, going to be okay.”

longer smoke breaks

Beads of sweat. Sex tires loves

Cute start. Wearied hand holding extends to

Side hugs and mocking lovers looks.

When ‘roll over’ doesn’t refer to minutes. Naked is soon

Forgotten. Victoria’s secrets are missed and work is late and

Recliners are the new bed. Microwave dinners place dates in cabinets.

A sigh—this isn’t what they’ve signed up for.

5 minutes, please.

I passed the cigarette and you took another drag like it was your last. The pressure was mounting and when you exhaled I tried to lose interest.

She spoke softly. “Ive been thinking.”

Three words you almost never want to hear.

“Maybe…you and I–”

“Could smoke another cigarette?” I stammered out quickly.

She smiled and said “Fine. That’s fine.”

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.  These would be the shortest 5 minutes of my life.

a newport finish.

I fidgeted in my pocket for my lighter taking my time. Guess I didnt know it would be this hard.  My fingers gripped the lighter finally and as I pulled it out it slipped back in. My damn fingers were sweating. I tried to play it cool but she could tell I was stalling.

“So listen-”

“Just a second, I got it.” I interrupted her. I wanted every second.

After I handed her a newport she leaned forward and I lit the end of the slender cigarette. Cheap smokes and finality. Her face was illuminated in the darkness of night and then gone.

A small cloud of smoke poured into the abyss and she coughed, and then laughed.

“Been a while?”

“No, its just…” She paused. I could tell this was difficult for her.

“It’s okay…” I muttered.  “I know.”

She took another long drag and passed it to me.  I took two quick puffs and tried to say something.

“We had some good times, didnt we?” She seemed mildly confident.

“We did.”

And all I could think about was late night diners and lake swims and the first time we made love.

when IKEA is your comfort.

we walked and talked with reckless abandon hoping that the night would never end. “Pour another drink and soak up this moment the best you can,” she said.  We laughed, we kissed, we wrestled. We smoked, we drank, we slept.

The sun rose and our lovers escapade was no more.

I didnt call. She didnt answer. We thought separate thoughts that never connected. Hope doesnt dangle on a string, it doesnt exist.

Wild youth was fleeting from me and I was tired. The cool seemed distant, and I was fine with that. After my mid–twenties I plunged into work and became quite successful. I live alone and sleep with a fan on, tv on, and most of the time a light on. When loneliness tries to creep up and consume me I think about that night, with that girl, and how I never called her. I avoided relationships and stuck with what worked.

Me.

in the city above theres still clouds

I remember you. Dont ya remember me? That night on Lawndale avenue under the headlights of your moms mini van?  We danced and sang and acted like fools. We made promises with our pinky fingers about freeing animals at the Zoo. You and me. Firecracker.

Where is our youth? Remember our first kiss? The taste of licorice lingering on both our lips. To tell ya the truth that memory is starting to fade and it kills me. Kisses forgotten by the persistent desire to kiss more. Sex drive in full force…i’ll try not to forget you.

Echoes and favorite records. I guess you were probably the last kid on our block to own a record player. Here’s to you. David Bowies “space oddity.”

I wish we could go to shows together. Theres this band, Arcade fire, I’m sure you woulda loved ‘em. Man, this is tough. Well, uh, listen…I gotta get goin’. Send my regards to Hendrix and Marley.

Goodbye, firecracker.

Satan tried to snatch my soul, but thank God for stale coffee and idiots like me.

It was the last of the drugs

and we came crashing,

crashing…

crashing

to the floor and we soaked in our own piss puke saliva.

We hoped to God up above that he would turn the floor boards right side up and we’d feel like fucking angels. But lying there and realizing I had been dead for weeks was quite nostalgic. My body was eating itself for comfort and the fetal position was taking on a whole new meaning. Then it hit me, there was no “we” there was only me. Honest to god I thought I was dead. And, well, I saw the gates of hell.

They were o p e n i n g up and
God was dangling

m
e

over the chasm taunting Satan saying “You were close. But this ones mine…bitch.”

Crazy shit. Maybe the shrooms. I dunno. Anyways, I was pretty loaded when I went out. I told myself this was the final bender. After God stopped flirting with Satan I woke up.

And that folks…is why I come to these, uh, here meetings. Thanks.

Collecting the pieces of myself.

If I ask you will you do it like her? Will that offend you? Its easy being honest with the one ya dont love. Lets stop for a second. I cant do this. It’s not you, its her. That white dress with those fucking red hills. I can still feel my lips falling from her cheekbone lingering on her neck line, its all so familiar. Im looking at you, but seeing her.  Her dimples, her smile. A friend shot me the other day when I brought her up. He pushed his finger to my temple and pulled up. He ordered me two shots of Jameson. He said I was in too deep.

Jump back to today lying here with you. I’ll try to close my eyes and focus on us. Shes trying hard to get me to cave. I just want another cigarette and a kiss from the one who traps all my thoughts in my mind at once. Now, she’s staring at me and wondering whats wrong. I mean, shes a pretty girl, and I should be thrilled to have a chance for her to swing those hips on top of me. But. Im not.

Finally, she whispers something in my ear and gets up. I see a fast flicker of light. I assume its her lighter.

I think she left.

I politely ask for myself to return. I walk into the bathroom and splash some water on my face. Looking in the mirror I realize I haven’t shaved in quite some time and my hair is growing over my ears.

Inspiration and drips of blood flow from my clenched fist. I dont attempt to pick the pieces of mirror out of my hand. I let myself bleed and I slump to the ground. Theres a knock on my door. She’s back?

After the 6th knock Im getting annoyed. I hear a faint voice. Sitting in the bathroom, Im wanting to bleed. The door clicks. Forgot it was unlocked.

Its my friend with the fake gun.

“Hey man.”

I give no response. Ive got my elbows on my knees and my hands covering my face. The blood from my one fist is dripping down my body from all different avenues. Small puddles are collecting on the tile. I imagine I look pretty messed up.

“I brought you a friend.”

He sets down a bottle of irish whiskey. He tells me its not just any bottle either. He says its a top 5 whiskey. Bushmills 10-year-old single-malt. Set him back 40 bones he says. He enters the bathroom and slouches down to the floor with a thud. He opens the bottle and takes a swig and passes it to me. Its in his expression how bittersweet the whiskey is. I grab the bottle from him. “Pussy.”

He cracks a smile.

“Lets fix that hand up.”

august never was.

My son told me the other day I had nothing to offer him. Just some old records and a dead mother he’ll never meet.

Walls. Our walls. These walls are my slow suicide. I guess all along I could never do it because of the boy. I tried to convince myself that was the reason. Now he’s grown up. He’s got his own place and studying to become an architect.

He told me the other day he never wanted to see me again. Said I was “toxic.” I didn’t shed any tears. I was relieved.

“Honey, what should we name our child?”

“Hows about we wait till we see our baby first, darling?”

She was always smiling. People said she made me a better man. He said she must have been something else to neglect your own goddamn son.

I’ve waited for this. Longed for this out. Its not traditional. It’s not Hollywood. All I can say is I’ve been dead for a while.

Emma, I did as you asked. I took care of the boy as long as I could. I know I wasn’t much of a father but he had the essentials to survive. I can’t believe I was able to do it without you. Honestly, I want to blame you for leaving me with this burden. How could I love the one who took my love away from me?

I lost contact with the world and everything it tried to offer me this past year. I stopped eating a week ago. The meetings, the check-ups…finally your son let me go. The walls. Our walls. These caving walls.

I held you weeping in the hospital room for the entire day. The doctors told me a parent is supposed to hold their child when it enters the world. New life, new love. I cursed the day he came into this world and took you out of it.

Its time to take care of the one who lives. My parents. Your parents. Their words.

Sweet death, I am finally yours. Our walls, no more.

9 am. 5 pm rant at the local bar

that bar never looked so appealing after graduating from where we had spent so many years toiling away believing we were accomplishing everything when in reality we had become slaves to the structure of civilization in the great free america Tall glasses of bubbling over beer made us forget the promissory note we signed years ago while the cigarettes we inhale remind us of the stress we carry but when we cast those little fires out someone wants their grubby fingers on our money So we smoke two packs-a-day and the doctor eats the apple but our health is a mystery to even us because death could relinquish our torture Nay but death is too modern too hollywood burdensome on the ones we leave behind as they already have more than enough on their plates Therefore I raise my glass to the entrapment that is the ideal of the north and vow to buy everyone in this bar a lottery ticket.

Drag it out for me, love.

And I couldn’t have been more foolishly in love with her. Everything she was, exemplified the opposite of myself. She wanted kids, big house, picket fence, a steady bank account, church every sunday,  and a bottle of red wine at all times.

We are holding hands on the subway thinking separate thoughts. I have enough scruff on my face that it’s becoming bothersome for her. Black Ray bans and a low-cut v-neck exposing curly chest hairs. I’m too much for her. She cant seem to let me go though. I know it. She knows it. I’m trying hard not to give her anymore of myself, but it seems the more I distance myself the more she clings to me. Reckless lovers we have become.

She squeezes my hand. Then proceeds to pull back at her bottom lip with her front teeth. She wants me to be what she desires.

Theres a youthful couple sitting across from us. Hand holding and tickling. Kisses on the neck and ear lobes. Giggles from this broad seem to never end. My hand is now empty. They are getting to her.

And I need a cigarette. I need out. Its gone on way too long. Its convenient though. She knows it too.

I want the ocean, the road, the city, the windows down, Bob Marley, Alaska, California, India, and a bicycle.

“I can compromise. Honest, it’s not that big a deal…”  She lies just to keep me around, at least I think. Crazy though how she knows my thoughts.  I tell her I will give her one more week and then im off to start my new life.  She laughs at first, then recognizes I’m serious. She quietly sits still. “Guess its been a long time comin.” I imagine me exhaling small clouds of smoke on a beach in Cali. “I cant do this anymore June. I refuse to accept our differences and try to make this work.” I feel like I have to be firm with her for her to realize this is final.

Shes searching for something to say. It’s all over her face. Depressing thoughts of loneliness are creeping in on her and she’s realizing her idealistic hopes of our perfect ending are fading. Tears start to stream down her face. “Take me with you?”

I’m trying not to laugh. Is this a desperate attempt to not be lonely or a cry for our love to last? It’s difficult to tell. We’ve arrived at our destination, but she’s not getting up. Shes waiting for my response. I attempt to look into the future and see what our lives would look like if she left everything and came along with me. Within seconds I see her getting bored with it all and making me decide once again between my dreams and her reality.

“Juniper…you wont last. You’ll end up hating me. Do you really want that?”

Shes quickly responds this time.

“What I hate… is that you don’t want me, like you want your dreams.”

I sigh. I’m sitting once again. The subway isnt noisy. It’s almost as if the people around us have disappeared. She clings to my arm and nuzzles her head into the nook of my neck. She places a wet kiss on the bottom of my ear lobe. My body language has given her hope.

I make a vow, to leave next week.

After the desire fades and things are satisfied the realities are still there. Or, are they?

“I couldn’t help but notice your difficulty. In need of a light?” She fidgeted around a little while longer before realizing my lighter was sparked and ready.

“O…thanks.” She took a long drag and almost stumbled into me.

“A bit too much tonight?” I smiled wondering how much in fact she had drunk. There wasnt much to her, if a hundred pounds.

“Never enough.” She stammered. “Thanks for the (hiccup), light.” She moved way too fast and tumbled to the ground. Laughter filled the air.

“Let me help you.” I reached out my hand towards her and she giggled. With her cigarette somehow still in tact and between her fingers she puffed abruptly into my face.

“That will be all doll face.” She hiccuped, giggled and then, started puking.

At this point, all my preconceived thoughts about her went out the window and her charm was nonexistent. I bent down on my knees and said cruelly but quietly “I am going to have my way with you.”

I was now captivated by the helplessness of her. This, was too easy.

Playing everything smoothly I pulled her hair back and she continued to throw up until she dry-heaved. When people would stop to stare and speculate about her,  I would shoot looks of judgment back. Within seconds she was old news to the mob. I picked her up gently and placed her in my arms like a kind, loving husband would do. She was in and out, but mostly out. I carried her like the concerned husband or boyfriend would til I arrived at my van.

Her eyes opened and some words fumbled out of her mouth. “Wehrre mamm Iii?”

“Shh, doll face, I’m going to take care of you now.”

its in the callouses.

I kept looking out the window believing you would come home. You never did and I wore out a spot on the couch waiting for you. I grew up fast because I had to. There wasnt much of a childhood. I had to pick up the slack you left behind. While you were gone I was being the man of the house. I took care of mom and made sure we were safe. Newspaper routes and dog walking every day. By sixteen I had my first full time job. Mom and I never went without. I was her super hero she would tell me. She would kiss me sweetly at the top of my forehead and tell me I was going places. “Mom, ya deserve the world. Dont ever forget your soul.”

Now, you are getting out. You would like a part of my life that doesnt exist anymore, for you. I dont care if ya got clean. You dont have a place in either of ours lives and that is that. I have no father and never will. I am my father, my provider, my stability, my own pitch-n- catch if ya will. You son a bitch. You missed my first fight. You missed so many firsts. Where were you with the raw steak and the “Whats the other guy look like” with a slug in my shoulder. How do ya sleep at night with what you did to mom and me? I tell ya what ya can do. Go commit another crime and disappear because I swear to god if you come near this family I will kill ya.

its 1:23 am. His favorite place to be.

My hands glide down your body and its like I know every inch of you. Your love is here for the taking and I’m not about to deny whats mine. Your hands grip my back tight and you claw my shoulders and bite at my neck. That’s it right there, hot breath in my ear. We go together for the first time in a while and collapse exhaling tirelessly. I can’t get enough of this, you, us. I want this, all of this, and mine alone.

I can’t shake her. I’ve tried. It’s not just the physical. I desperately want it to be just the physical because then I wouldn’t be so attached.

She rolls over and grabs a Dum Dum Pop.  Shes retired from smoking and this was not helping her in the least bit.  She starts sucking vigorously at the pop as if it contains nicotine. She looks annoyed. I cant help but smile at her efforts. Its been two days since her last cigarette. She takes the pop out of her mouth and nuzzles close to my body. She leans in and kisses me with her cherry flavored lips.

“yummy.” I laugh. She laughs.
“Can we just lay here all day?” She has a somber face. “I hate being away from you. Makes me think about that killer.” She watches the news too much.
“You know how much I’d love to-honest. I have to get to work though soon. Tight schedule for the upcoming month.” I try to brush her off gently but with intention.
“You know he murdered another girl in Chicago the other day? AND one in Michigan.” She looks horrified. “Tell me your not some secret murderer baby…”
For a second, a fraction of a second, I drift off to the girl in chicago and the dirty blond in Michigan. “Babe, play along please!” She giggles.

What makes this girl different from the others? Maybe its the consistency? The warmth of a body lying comfortably next to you. How devoid she is of her current situation?

“I only kill on the weekends darling.” I report from my sudden stupor.  She smiles and jumps on me from the bed. “As long as you are home to tuck me in with a goodnight kiss.” She giggles again.

I think it’s because I got bored with the others and not with this girl. Theres something about her that punctures my heart. Shes like an innocent child who needs my constant attention. And that, is admirable.

“Dont worry, he probably wont kill anybody for a while.” I say calmly and with confidence.

 

2010

He looked up from his desk and exclaimed he needed a break.  He sent out memos to the office that he would be taking a few personal days and not to try and contact him because he was going some place far.

He went home and found his wife in the kitchen just starting dinner. She looked tired and defeated. He said “hello.” She mumbled a hello.

He approached her quietly and wrapped his muscular arms around her. He spoke softly but abruptly. “Lets get out of here.” She smirked at him and told him she needed to finish dinner. He didnt budge. He kissed her brunette hair and moved slowly down her now neckline stopping at her showing collarbone. The words came to him easily. “We need this.” She stopped stirring, and was now starting to take him seriously. She reached up and caressed his arm and spoke kindly. “That would be nice, but-” He interrupted her. “No buts, just turn the boiler off.” Her mood had changed drastically as if they had never done anything spontaneously. She giggled and turned around quickly kissing him on the cheek. He smiled and told her to grab her coat.

They started to approach the door, but before they could she turned to him and questioned “But, where are we going?”

“A battle of the bands at a local high school. Then I thought we would get some pot. And to top the night off make-out sesh at the drive-in. “

“O stop it!” She was laughing.

“I’m dead serious.” He was.

“Sure, sure.” She opened the door and walked out to the car in denial of the events to come.

He called after her. “Well, I was joking about the pot…or was I?”

I never stop running.

I tried to quit her. She insisted that wouldn’t be necessary. “We were just having a little fun” she kept saying. I couldn’t believe her. It was getting to me and I knew she could tell. How was it that she was so cavalier about the situation while I was in total anxiety. My chest ached and it was like she could see through  me to the very core.

How many times do I have to go through this to finally stop? I feel so hopeless. An addict more or less.

She stayed the night again. Waking up beside her I feel a mixture of emotions. Mostly, regret. However, I enjoy having her tangibly with me. Its sad though because its not like we have much to say to each other. I wonder what it would be like to get to know her.

I think I’ll just skip town.

when the fire left us.

We had fire for a season and then it went.

I dont know what was worse when the flames died out or when your heavy heart collapsed.

We killed for moments together, nothing mattered but you and I. Truth be told I gave too much of the fire away early.

Here we are. Alone, yet together. I tried to capture the sun for you and bring you into the light but the sun was eaten by the moon and weve had darkness for several days. All you seem to want to do is lay in the tub contemplating our first spark. I tried building you a tree house to remind you of your youth and you cried.

Im letting you know im here and I havent fallen off the face of the planet. Let me hold you. What happened to us?

Im going to fight you for your heart. I will create our fire.

lets continue shall we. part 3 fragment.

What am I if not poison. A sea of people longing to be somebody. The flash. The glamorous. The bums, the dirty, the disturbed all walking among us. We all have stories, I’m just certain some are more entertaining.

Shes back to smoking cigarettes again. It only lasted a week. I knew she would cave but it was advantageous of her to fight for something. I admire her tenacity. Shes not like the other girls I’ve murdered. They didnt put up much of a fight if at all. Fight or Flight response system.

Sometimes I think about going back to med school just to have the degree and letters after my prestigious name. I dont know though, it all seems so trivial. I got a divine little thing going right now. Addy seems to be keeping the demons at bay. Honest, I didnt know I could feel this way. Especially in light of my killing spree.

It’s difficult in the mornings. Mostly because I look in the mirror and see the faces of the dead girls I’ve mutilated. It got really bizarre the other day when I saw Addy in the mirror. I actually cut myself shaving. The blood percolated into the sink while the water kept at a steady stream.  For a split second I swore I saw a finger floating in the water…Apparently I was in a stupor for quite some time because Addy said she had been knocking on the door for “like 5 minutes.” If she had a flaw, it would be her “likes.” After this incident I decided it was time for another victim. Addy was the ideal solution but I couldnt give her up yet.