Saturday, March 31, 2012

the problem is that this disease convinces you that delusions
are revelations. it tucks you in with false
epiphanies and kisses your forehead
with willow lips.
hollow promises and slivers that sound like faucet drips.

i smile
easy and she remembers everything and i wonder if snowflakes 
know that they'll melt. and i wonder if snowflakes even
"i see us going places. do you see us going places?"
she nods.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

someone invent a lobotomy machine.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

mercury bubble veins, i remember
sinking and rising sinking and rising and i was so damn
nervous and i'm still so damn nervous
but for a different reason now.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

this isn't poetry, this is an observation.
i don't think i've mentioned this before but i work at a homeless shelter, i have for the past
year and a half.
i'm there right now actually, doing my weekly overnight and as i sat,
bored and sleep deprived,  i actually started to look at my surroundings. 
a huge room covered in murals, framed bible verses and one wall-
covered in photographs.
i had never given it any thought before, the picture wall, 
toothless grinning men with worn faces and overweight woman with
stone eyes. i had never given it any thought before, until now.
walking next to it, running my fingers over the curling edges, i noticed something.

dates underneath the images, scrawled in the corners,
question marks in the place of birth dates.
all of these people are dead.

for the past year and a half, i've stared at pictures of dead people
turned my back,
and done my homework.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

paint, cancer,mouth stars and the breeze

Paint was never really there, pushed up on
the walls, a scotch taped poster of what 
Paint needed to be
and she wasn't.

Cancer could sing
badly and its okay because we were young and sick
and bored with our scars. Cancer liked to write about my 
insides, cirrhosis poetry 
and I can't seem to remember Cancer except for
cats, dogs, mice and departing flights.

Rain was devastating. Rain was a surprise
swept in like a summer storm and turned into everything
overnight. And Rain came and poured and poured and drowned us both, 
clawing like rats at each others hearts just to stay afloat. 
Mouth stars and filled up cups.

Breeze was a chase, constantly. Light and fast and
fighting against it the whole way until
she grew into air and suddenly I found myself
Breeze came back in the spring,
Breeze came back to stay.

Monday, March 19, 2012

this is what it looks like when she says 'i love you' in 2003

i like
i like how they work, i like their ins and outs i like their ups and downs. i like learning about
brains and synapses and impulses and how
a burst of energy can make me
feel the way i do, sometimes.
i find it all very interesting.

our short term memory is only capable of holding seven units of information at a time. it's a fact, think of phone numbers. here, look at this number, close your eyes, wait twelve seconds and then say the number out loud.

okay? now do the same with this one.

see, i like
and what fills them, i like skulls and neurons and
how you aren't conscious of your pinky toe right this second
but now you are.

there is a small bone inside your ear that turns sound vibrations into music.

the first time we kissed we were walking and i was looking down but she was looking at me
the second time we kissed was on broadway and 51st, she pushed me up against a building
the third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh all happened in short sequence somewhere near the elevator.
they all traveled my nervous system, lit up like a city grid from an airplane with the
pulsing flashes of a shred
an eyelash or a freckle,
past the temporal lobe and nestled right into the
hippocampus orchestrator, sending the files to be stored in different areas assuring that even through massive head trauma, some part of me would still remember her face. assuring that there is not an inch of me she has left untouched.
gives a new meaning to
"you're on my mind"

each day i learn a new seven things about her,
but i don't forget.

Friday, March 16, 2012

chase them to the ocean and let
the water do the rest
we ripped up the carpeting 
in the front hall, friday afternoon.
under it 
the boards were dirty 
and warped and
smelled like shit. 
you said you didn't 

Thursday, March 15, 2012

she crawled into bed and cut herself out
lifted my hair and kissed me goodnight
for the 100th time

you carved your initials
with the sloping 's' 
left a stain in my carpet
and my brain in my chest.

Monday, March 12, 2012

i built a castle once
in the katie's backyard; one of those green plastic
turtle shaped sandboxes with little black eyes
painted on

and life was good

now i worry 
about the bills 
and college transcripts 
and getting cancer
and if she has my heart 

i stopped building sandcastles
and i dug holes instead.

He came home from work to all her clothes in his closet and it was almost as if every single sweater were wrapped around his neck.  

“I couldn’t find my good belt today, there’s too much shit in the closet”, it sounds 
harsher than he meant it to but once the words leave his lips he can’t take them back. 
He doesn’t want to take them back, three months of unemployment and she wasn’t even trying, 
just lying on the couch staring at the window all day. The worst part? 
She’d barely looked at him since the one night he came home late tasting like another woman.  
 After all he does for her and she can’t even trust him, 
“Are you even listening to me?”

“Who was she?” she barely whispers, 
it’s the first time she’s brought it up and it throws him off course. 
It breaks him down just a bit, he really does love her. He loves her so much that he 
can’t even imagine a life without her so he takes her as a constant, he takes her for granted.

“I don’t need to deal with this. I work all day; I don’t want to deal with this.”
“You work all day? And what do you do? You file paperwork to be shredded; don’t you see how 
meaningless that is? You’re a computer.” 
And its anger this time, she’s spitting the words at him and jumping to her feet. She grabs the lamp and throws it to the ground and the subsequent crash makes the apartment go silent. 
And then suddenly he’s screaming and she’s screaming and he’s going through the cupboard and throwing the wedding china just to see it explode against the wall. 
She stares at him, red-faced with a soup bowl in his hand and his eyes flashing. He looks ridiculous and she really does love him. She loves him so much she could never stay mad and then she’s laughing at him and he’s laughing back. The knock on the door brings them both back to reality. Domestic disturbance, they throw his Rolex on the ground and take him away in the back of a squad car.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

there is nothing so inspiration-killing as
11 oclock television and an indian rolled cigarette.
we watched the little people in their little houses with
glowing boxes
silhouettes against electricity, requiem statues of creativity
eating microwaved emotions out of cardboard trays and cellophane
years bear heavy on their shoulders.
"you won't end up like them" i tell her and she
nods but i see that maybe to her they aren't so
bad. maybe she wants the
2.5 life 

so i kissed her hands and her mouth and all the
what'sthat and righttheres of 
her body. 
"i'd jump if it meant dying on new york city pavement"
and she says
"that bedspread is cute."
i tell her
"you are my rosary.
this is your love poem"
and she nods.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

it hits you
the idea that maybe possibly
you are exactly where you were always meant to be.

lets talk,
i'm in nyc right now. if it's not obvious by now, i plan on moving here in the fall.
174 days. i'm sitting in a hotel room, alone, after taking a college tour that has done nothing
but convince me further that this is what i want.

i have never belonged anywhere, not with my family, not with friends.
i just never fit before.
maybe we can track this back to some vague trauma in my early childhood or maybe it really is just because i am gay. there's been this wall between everyone else and myself, i am different. i will never be what they are. it has taken time to come to this realization but i will never apologize for my sexuality despite the hardships- i am proud to be who i am and i feel sorry for anyone who has never
had the opportunity to kiss her sleeping shoulder. i feel sorry for anyone who has never felt small hands on the back of their neck, who has never felt how fucking
beautiful it is to fall in love with a woman.
i'm lucky enough to have that.

i wake up each day
new and everything is getting better and better. maybe the most wonderful part is that i have no idea how this will end  and i'd be lying if i were to say i wasn't scared. i'm terrified but i want the best for myself
and  that is nyc and blair.
she is the best for me. this is the best for me. a new life is the best for me)

i am scared of dying in new york city, wilting away like a
neglected plant on the windowsill but i have come to terms with most of my fears, if i don't leave this town now then i will never leave at all and i don't want that, i don't want to settle on my future. it has been almost two and a half years since i died. since i exploded, since i destroyed myself down to the core. if you told me two and a half years ago that i would have a plan, that i would live in nyc one day, that i would have a 4.0 GPA, that i would have a job i loved, friends that stick by me and a girl who i barely have
scratched the surface of (yet, it is probably the
most intense i've ever felt about someone, because it's more than lust and comfort; what i have
with her is something older than the ocean, something that many poets have tried to tame into their books and failed.)
i don't know, i guess i'm just saying that i'm happy, i'm so happy.

i want you all to know-
to those who have stayed since the beginning, 
the soft days, the naked pink newborn skin of a fresh scar typing away at the keys
to those who have read through the depression
which wasn't an abundance of sadness but rather a void 
of everything
to those who have comforted me through the rough,
through the days of nothing but an ache for something that i could never have.
to those who just started reading, to those who got lost with the scientist and those who fell
into the flash fiction. to all of you, every single one of you
i want to say something-
it's real. the endless sunshine, the honest happiness.
it's all real and you deserve it more than i do
and i sincerely hope you continue to read and i sincerely hope that
i have made you feel something even once.

Sunday, March 4, 2012

i think i just had the most wonderful
of my life. see i've always hated naps. 
i can't get comfortable
i can't quiet my mind
and then, when i do sleep
i just wake up a few hours later feeling
unpleasantly confused.
and anyways, it wasn't really a nap at all, more like a full nights rest
placed precariously in the afternoon and i thought
of you in that daysleep, i thought of a perfect little flat
in the city and of making coffee and music and
your tousled hair that morning.
i'm roused now, 
drunk and lonely when you call
and i smile.

i guess i'm just saying, 
if i could find a tree, i'd carve your name in it.
i guess i'm just saying,
you make my insomnia 
more pleasant.
sunday night. 
we buzz-
watching reality television and smoking, 
huddled to the window and wrapped
in each other.  i wonder sometimes,
on these nights, if all the seconds i have ever lived
have brought me to this 

Thursday, March 1, 2012

She starts screaming at least twenty five feet away from the cliff edge, arms pressed against her chest as if to protect something vital and she jumps. Thin figure suspended in air for a split second before crashing down into the water. She’s out of his sight now and the only noise is her splash. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.  He hears a gasping and the sound of water breaking. And then she’s calling his name and he’s bracing himself and his body shoots like an arrow to the bottom, feet touching the fine gravel and lake water rushing up his nose.  He coughs at the surface before she’s on him. Laughing and gliding effortlessly. Gravity was below her, she walked with air under her feet and swam as if even the oceans could never hold her.