Single serving memories

There are many pages I have thrown into my trash
That have a different single word written on each one of them
A single word that was the first of a thousand
A thousand words that would only begin to describe a time and emotion I try so hard to forget

I wonder sometimes if there is a seagull somewhere out there
Flying amongst all the debris at the garbage dump
That has collected all the pieces of paper with all of the words
And created a nest of all the memories I have tried for so long to forget

If these walls could speak

You look at me as if my words are worth nothing
As if when I open my lips
It's just random gasps of air escaping
And the words each reverberate off each wall
Absorbed and remembered by the atoms
Another memory of a breakup bonding with the glue between the wallpaper and plaster

Dance your face off

You do it in the dark alleyways
Or in your bedroom
With all the lights off
When you think you're all alone
At your most private
You've had enough alcohol
But not enough dance floor
Not enough time
You put your earphones in
And it's just the right song
Where you know all the words
And just when the beat drops
Your eyes block out the world
You turn up the volume
Until all there is
Is you and the music
And then there is just music
Just essence floating through space

Scared of the edge

I stand by the railing
My heart beats a mile a minute
And I look over the edge
Assuring myself I won't accidentally jump

The Daily Epiphany

Have you ever thought about some of the weird people in your life
Or the angry people
Or the people you just wish wouldn't exist anymore
And just thought, how can they act like that?
Or think that way?
Don't they even realize what people think of them?
And of course, the answer is no, they don't
They think people like them
Love them
They really and truly do think that, or else of course they would change
Even when they say things like "yea, I know I'm a bitch"
Or "It's okay, people find that endearing about me"
They don't really acknowledge their shortcomings
I know that because I realized that about myself
I realized I am a person some people don't want around
Or even like
People don't like me that I thought did
Even loved me
And it's because of who I am
And what's funny is it's all things I've known about myself completely
I just never dreamt that people would hate me for the same reasons I hate myself

Waiting for the shootout

I sit across from him
A tree outside the window framing his blonde dreads
As if he's the direct descendant of mother nature
And he tells me of a life I know nothing about
And the shots ring out on the street
He assures me
"It's okay, It's only Thursday"
And he smiles at his joke
As we hide under the table
And plaster falls all around us

Every which way but up

Tomorrow could be the most important day of your life
Tomorrow you could discover that thing you were always looking for
Find that person that completes you
Lose someone you love more than you knew you did
Or even lose yourself

It's worth so much
And we fear the number of them we have left
The number of Tomorrows
Yet when it turns into Yesterday
It's worth so little

He had a shitty day

Even miles away and fast asleep
Your skin will tingle a little
When you become someone else's
"Well at least I have her"

Do no wrong

There's a special place in each of our hearts
Where we keep those people in our lives
Who have gotten past the electrified fences
And past the snarling dogs
And past the snipers in guard towers
The people who couldn't ever hurt us
That we trust completely
The people that we relish being in love with

Innocent flirting

I'm driving 110 mph on the freeway. I can barely see past the end of my hood with all the rain. Not that it would really matter. I'm so drunk my teeth taste like sugar, My breath has grown a film of vodka on it.

She asked me for a ride most mornings. I happily agreed. It was nice to have company on the drive in. And she only lived a block away. Yes, of course that's the only reason I gave her a ride. It was also so that I could feel a little better about driving myself. Carpooling and all that. Just trying to be a little green. And the company didn't hurt.

I'm following the brake lights of the car in front of me as carefully as I can. It's not easy because every turn takes me farther and farther from my home, but at this point I'm just trying to survive. Trying to hold onto the steering wheel and my consciousness with my fingers.

I could hear her laughing from across the warehouse. I loved her laugh so much. So hearty and full and carefree. She always seemed so... confident in her laugh. Like there was no way the little snort it always started with was at all ever strange. I always smiled when I heard her laugh. I found myself wishing more and more often it was me making her laugh.

I keep thinking I could just pull over. I should. I really should just pull over. At the very least stop speeding so fast the bends in the road seem like sharp turns that I'm reacting to slower and slower. Sleep a little while. Try again later. I even have a blanket in the back seat I could use. I could just wrap myself up and go straight to sleep and wait for the sun to come out and chase away the dark thoughts and go on with my life.

She asked me to come over to her place sometimes. We would just watch TV, or even just talk. We would turn off all the lights and close all the windows, and lie on opposite couches, and close our eyes shut. We wouldn't fall sleep or anything. We would just pretend we were dreaming, speaking out what we were doing. So we could share our dreams. I don't know why but I would always be so happy about the situation, but feel so sad. I would never shut my eyes like I was supposed to. Eyes staring at black ceilings that I couldn't tell apart from the insides of my eyelids. And tears would just stream down my face. She used to laugh at me when I claimed it was from drooling in my sleep. I loved to make her laugh.

I am now on a country back road. There's nobody anywhere in sight, and the road is dark. The only light is from my headlights, peering down the infinite path cut through the trees in front of me. I turn off the headlights, and reach back for the blanket. I hold it up to my face and wrap it around me, as the shadows of trees rush past on either side. It smells slightly of sand, and salt water. The beach.

She hadn't liked the beach. She thought there was too much sand, too much sun, too much smell, too many kids. She had spent the majority of the 23 minutes we spent there sitting on the blanket she had brought with her. I didn't mind either way, I was just happy to be out with her. I mostly laid on the blanket, closing my eyes. The blanket smelled of her: a mix of jasmine and lavender. I had been to her place often enough to know she didn't have soaps or shampoos or anything that smelled anything like that. She seemed to just exude it. Or maybe it was just my mind pretending her scent smelled nice at all. I closed my eyes and just swam in the smell a little until she wanted to leave. We got in the car and drove around for awhile, until it got slightly dark. We pulled to a part of the beach where the road ended right by the water. We parked there, and climbed in the back seat, wrapped in our blanket in our warm car on that cold spring night. Huddled together. My arm around her. I couldn't remember feeling more content.

The car was gently rocking me. I was vaguely sure I was still pointed straight ahead, and I reasoned, in my hazy brain, that the trees had seemed pretty thin as we zipped past, if I brushed up against or hit them, it would probably just slow me down a little. I shut my eyes, burying my face in the blanket. I was hit with that scent. It seemed so faraway, but it was there. Underneath the sweat and vodka and sand and salt water and everything. The faintest scent of jasmine and lavender.

It was three weeks after the beach that I first found out about it. About him. She said she had always had a boyfriend, how could she never have brought it up, she wondered. She talked about how they had been together for three years, how she only really spoke or saw him once a week, but it was serious enough that they were talking about marriage and kids and their future together. I couldn't understand at all. "How could you marry someone you see so little of?!" She said she saw him enough. That they would see more than enough of each other once they were married. I just couldn't even fathom it. I had stopped trying to convince myself her behaviour was just overly friendly. I was sure we had been openly flirting for at least a few weeks now. I was going to take her on a real date next week. She had already agreed to meet, I was just going to take her somewhere nice. 

"Don't you love me?"
"Of course I do! I love you more than anyone I know!"
"But, how can you love HIM and me as well!?"
"That's not the same, he's going to be my husband. You're like a really good brother. Or cousin. Or something"
"But... what about the beach."
"...?"

My car has always been my sanctuary from the rest of the world. With a rented out room in a house I don't like in a town I know almost no one in, my parents long dead and having no one else. I had no where else to call home. The town I grew up in had never felt like home, certainly. Now all I had was this car. And this blanket. I take a deep breath, filling myself with her. Why is my car rocking me like this? Oh yeah, it's still driving. I should get up and make sure I don't hit a tree. Maybe just a few more minutes...

Don't let go

The twinkling had vanished from her eyes

The smile on her mouth didn't crinkle her cheeks

And she seemed focused on a point past my own face

That's when I realized it wasn't her who had let go

It was me

Semantic satiation

You know how sometimes you can repeat a word over and over
It sometimes loses meaning
And just becomes a jumble of scrambled sounds
Or the letters don't seem to make up the word they spell
It happens to me a lot
The word 'manslaughter' sometimes repeats so often in my head
I'll see it on a page and repeat it over and over in my head
Manslaughter manslaughter MANslaughter manSLAUGHTER Man's Laughter
Until it's just shapes
And I pick apart the individual letters and wonder where they all came from
The same thing happens with the word "justice"
I read the word "justice" over and over until it's two different words
I picture the guy from the Miller time commercials pointing at you out of the screen
and saying "It's Just Ice!" and winking
That's what I pictured as he read off the list of offences
The judge wearing a giant afro wig
And carrying a tray with cold beers on it
And proclaiming 'Just Ice has been served!'

Nurses are the real heroes

There is a deafening loneliness to the people lying in beds in hallways in the hospital

Six lined up to a wall

     all crying out in pain

          screaming for help

               or whimpering at the futility of their situation

Six people who are all there

     all able to hear each other

          and none listening

All of them lying together alone. 

A measure of success

I've marked all these moments in my life
To show off my accomplishments
In hopes that it will all mean something to you
That you will somehow value me more
I've optimized for the things you seem to measure as worthwhile
And practiced those mannerisms you seem to like
All because I didn't know what you meant
When you said
"You're just not what I'm looking for"

Down is up

I'm doing cartwheels
Over and over one after the other
Trying to get all the blood out of the part of my brain
That makes me think of you