Friday, August 27, 2010

and i don't believe that anybody feels the way i do about you now.

i need someone who can clean
the stain of her misery
off me.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Scientist Pt. 5


"Well? Does she fuck as good as I do?"
Pure venom from the other end of the couch and she's stomping around like a petulant child and rambling, exaggerating each footstep to try to make the
most noise possible. He hadn't come home in three nights and the ghost apparently
It's voice is sounding less and less like her's everyday as
brain cell die and memories are lost
forever, sand just flowing through his desperate hands.
And now she's 
"I was with Michael. We're working on something important"
"I'm what's important. I'm your wife!"
He flickers like a computer screen and 

"You are not my wife. 
My wife is dead."


"Ghana? You're not fucking going to Ghana. Why would you even... no. No.
That is the most retarded thing I have ever heard."
"You didn't see their eyes, Jake. They have to travel over 6 hours to get water everyday.
I just want to help."
And the way she had spoken that last sentence, as if building wells in a West Africa country for the next three months was a day-trip to a water park.
"Then sponsor one of those orphans with the flies around their eyes. What about college?"
"I'm dropping out. I'm going to change the world."
"When did you decide this, June?"


And she went to Ghana, he kissed her goodbye on a Tuesday morning when the sky
looked like burned wheat fields. He didn't know it was possible
to feel that lonely. Sure there were postcards and 
little Polaroid pictures she sent but he missed
so terribly. 
He let all the plants die and studied and counted to 
one thousand
over and over again, just to pass the time. She stayed for two months and came back sunburned
flying into his arms at the airport and gave him
four more years of love he didn't deserve.


"There's something you're not telling meeee."
He comes up from behind and presses his forehead into her shoulder blade, breathing her in. 
She'd been off all night, quiet. The only times she wouldn't speak were when she was just
trying to figure out a way to actually talk.
"Do you want a baby?"
"What? At this exact moment? Are you going to go out and steal one or something?"
"In the future, idiot. Do you want a baby?"
"I guess so. No, I mean yes. I do. But we aren't even married yet"
"Yet? You said yet. You said we aren't even married yet. You want to marry me. You so want to marry me."
"Oh shut up I do not." 
And the second he says it he realizes what he'd just done and she physically winces from the sting.
"You do. You want to marry me, I can see it in your eyes."
And he stays there for a second, pressed to her back and understands that there is no other place
he'd rather be. For a long time. For forever.
"So do you want to or not?"
"Marry you?"
And then it's serious, as life changing moments tend to be. They occur when you least expect them,
catching you on your blindside and making you choose 
without time to analyze.
"Do you want to?"
And he feels under dressed and completely inadequate, with pajama pants on and 
no ring, no roses, no jewelry. Not like the boys at her parent's country club, no ironed polo's or 
trust funds. It's just him, bare, stripped of all titles and degrees-
human, a chemical composition, vulnerable and he's giving himself to her,
all flaws and strengths. He's asking her to keep him, for good.
She buries her face into the slope of his neck and later, he finds a permanent marker and draws
the two opposite lines on her finger, their lines. Never touching but fixed, apart and
always in the same direction. Always.

 The ghost calmed quickly, her moods like mercury bubbles, 
just standing there, arms crossed in the corner of the room, staring out the window
at the skyline.
"What did I do? Did you become bored with me, was I not complex enough? Is that what happened?
You solved me and then I was done?"
She's crying and her nose is running and the hiccups are coming in twos (He always thought
it was cute, before). To see her, breaking and flailing in the dark for him, was almost like
the final months had been. Central Park changed everything and after, she had just clung tightly,
trying despretely to get the feeling back, to drag his love back up from inside him.
He had starved her, he had ruined her.
"You were enough, you've always been enough. Please, 
I'm sorry June. I'm so sorry. I got lost."
"But we don't lose each other. Parallel lines, remember?
And she holds up a phantom finger, almost translucent, shimmering at the edges, and the two marker lines circle around like twin rings.
"Can we pretend for tonight?"


sounds like a plan

and maybe i am
because you are
and you need me to
so i'm never going to let you down


Sunday, August 22, 2010

from the only place you felt safe [when we were very young]

you were always thinking about time;
how many hours days weeks
i had left

break your hourglass
and build castles with the sand.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

November 18th [it will all end beautifully]

Broken down, it’s a season of cold ground.
You’ll wish it differently, as everyone will but perhaps, You. You with the halo hanging dangerously slanted, you’ll wish this differently more than the others. Spoken softly, the words would linger like smoke in the car. She's sitting right next to you and your mind convinces you that you could cross it, reach out and risk ruining the mood, reach out a few inches to the warm body sitting right there. She's right there. Next time you will, though. Next time will be easier.

You don’t though and maybe that’s why you’ll wish it differently more than the others, because the chance was there. You could have talked. Maybe she would have started smiling again.You just couldn’t move past those inches. Insurmountable, the distance behind those eyes. It wouldn’t have mattered if you had chanced it, the distance of fields and rivers and streams
and of maps and latitudes
of thousands of millions of miles behind those eyes. She didn't want anyone to try, and certainly not you. Rationalize it, pretty boy. Make it right in your head so it can stop feeling so wrong.

Run those fingers over the stick shift, she’s gone now. Her heavy quiet still idles in your engine and you play your music loud to kill the silence and it never really works, does it?

It seems impossible; to accept, to comprehend the complete lack of her. Everything has changed [Mental note, that's cliche. Later, when you go over your thoughts, change it. Be better. Be real. Be human about the whole thing], it's not necessarily bad. No, bad wouldn't be the word for you, would it? No, just different. You can feel a sleepiness in everything. It feels like you're underwater and the rest of the world is strangely muted, far away. And any moment you almost feel like it's all going to change back. You miss not thinking about these things. You miss being awake. But it doesn't matter, does it? Nothing really matters, because everything hasn't really changed. It's just in your head. Every lamp post, every street sign, it's all still in the same place as it was. It's just different, right?

When it's time to talk, when you suddenly don't hate the idea of saying those words, of ruining the mood, when you actually want to hear it all come out of her mouth;

You'll turn that limber torso to the seat next to you. You'll stop the car, mute the music, and you'll turn. Somehow, it's not as lonely when she's not here. But you don't care. You miss it. You miss the awkward car rides. You miss the small talk. It feels like dreaming;

after all, she was only a few inches away.

Friday, August 20, 2010

November 10th [the physics of two bodies]

kissing just to feel the way your
mouth moves to mine, a revelation!
you are an island in my sea;
something strong and silent underneath me.

Friday, August 13, 2010


they could be so good to you
scoop you up like a tiny
and keep you safe.

you'd miss our car rides though.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010


gone for a week

Monday, August 9, 2010

November 7th [a requiem for your love]

[[my sickness reminds you of your mother and you hate me for it. how she
from bed all skinnysick. how she used to be
beautiful that the men would bring her flowers and sing her songs.
and how
you cried because you couldn't even stand her anymore and you wrote to your brother everyday and he never replied and you hate him for that.
she had no one and i've got no one and you'll always have to take care of us.

you still write to your brother.
and you still check the mail.
and he doesn't call but you wait

and you hate me for that too.]]

Saturday, August 7, 2010


please come back.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

an award on ending.

god is a farmer and i think i'm a weed
god is a preacher and i think i'm asleep.

November 4th [laying in repose]

every touch was a stone in your pocket
and my lips on your neck were the sea.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

oh comely-; i promise, no more promises.

you don't know who you are
but i do.
i'll draw you a map, my heart to yours.

please don't say the words.

it can be the time, if you want it to be.
we can do the things that people do and
pick out silverware together.

but i don't really care if we eat with our hands
and sleep on the floor.