I woke up on the train at 4:13 A.M. this morning smelling like old beer, sweat and
the sign said "New Lots Avenue"; plastic like in the bad neighborhoods, where they don't care
if everything breaks and stays that way.
I don't like Brooklyn. I think it's all
empty warehouses or full warehouses of kids who idealize the empty that
everyone else is trying to escape.
Brooklyn is always too wide
and space makes me nervous now, if you cage a bird long enough they start to resent
New Lots Avenue doesn't have too many Starbucks, I am
a warrior walking with my Deli coffee and all the houses
are so square and white that they look like my old gym teacher's bottom teeth
when he touched that girl and it makes me real nervous
to think about.
Sometimes New York City is so silent that it makes me want to
Sometimes she makes me laugh for three hours straight and when I'm done my whole body is
sore from joy. Sometimes, I feel malleable for her;
bright red steel, the mattress commercials
show me my spine as a radiating beam, bent out of shape from sleeping in the
bathtub, drunk and sick while she puts her make up on.
I created this world when I was young and bored and sad, now I'm just trying to get out.
Everywhere, to burst out of the sides of myself- I feel every single day that passes like a nail
through my palm.
Maybe I am a broken volcano, maybe I am high, maybe I am happy.
I don't know what to do with happiness, things are always getting better and better
and that puts a lot of pressure
on the future. I had to wait an hour for the next train into Manhattan, fucking freezing and holding
a leaking paper cup, in the bad neighborhoods no one cares if things stay broken.