The Next Big Thing

you didn't even wanna come home with me that night, i swallowed my pride and almost begged you. the lack of life in my eyes caught your attention and you came. on the ride home you rested you head and i was happy to have my lap full. every pothole we hit didn't register. it was one of our last times together (i never saw it coming), i pulled you aside when we got back to your house and i asked how you felt about me. you kissed me like you had always wanted, like when you dated that chubby philanderer - as i'd come to call her - and i wouldn't be within miles of you. none of it mattered because you failed to answer the question. it had become my bible, i studied it until my eyes drooped and died, they couldn't see clearly. and you kept on living like our production had never existed. nothing ever pulled on you, got you frantic - it all did to me. they all thought just because my lifeless body was still breathing they shouldn't put me in the ground. boy were they mistaken. i was low enough and i was done living. peace might have come had you tossed your fistful of dirt over top my grave.

i didn't really want to die, but i really didn't wanna come back to life. however, i misjudged the presence of religious zealots, and overestimated the revelations they would all suddenly have after the initial shock of my blessed miracle. one night too i had a dream that the government seized me and took me to an abandoned lab furnished with faces frozen in time. they ran tests on me, but that was never the case. i woke up feeling less convinced i'd be the governments number one target. the zealots terrified me though because i had nothing to prove, but i was aware they'd force my participation in spectacles. it had always had success with their transgressions and how the choose to spread the word.

when i came back to life is an impossible moment to describe. but i imagine it felt something like being jolted by those paddles dr's use to restart your heart.
in my case however life had slowly built backup over time but i only realized it in one quick instant. just like that i took everything out of the drawer and got it back up on the shelf and if you come over today and saw it i'd make sure to tell you i did it all without help.

Phoenix Resurrected

i look back and it flashes over - taking me down in its undertow. similar to anti-gravity, i'm drifting away from earth.  how long in this undertow
can i last
and it's been almost a year since i gave up, didn't look back. actually withdrew myself from plenty, and i could consume more. endure it all much better, and learn more.

i took the guts right out of it and sent it to the coroner, and i'll stand by when they slap you on the table. they'll cut you open like sunday dinner, but they won't be expecting what i already knew.  you survived with insides that curdled, so sour.  it amazing you lasted with that putrid stink.  and to think you grimaced at passerby's when they twisted their faces.  you swelled with anger when you knew it was was all misconceptions (how you believed to be looked upon - once described as "completely bloated in an ignorant figment of how [you're] viewed), your brand had cascaded.  you cried behind the shed in your backyard while your parents watched out the kitchen window.  they were hesitant to come to your side, you constantly pushed away those invested in you. 

so it was no surprise when they tell me it's mostly empty, you were running on ashes and all that was there is black, i'll share a laugh with your ghost right after i remind the coroner to take care of the remains. and it's funny because when you were still here i told myself you lost your dignity.  now i find myself defending it, and excusing it for the past.

Three Thoughts

1.

Sometimes odd couples

are actually even

and my match

does start a fire.

2.

Expectations are a

well in my heart

the further away

the closer to start

I'm drowning in three 

inches of life.

3.

My sadness is hidden

-why I don't know

I started to cry

when I saw it go

I chased it down the street

then I held my head high

in defeat.

A Shift In The Map

when i sum it up i just didn't wanna budge the past year or so. at this point i underestimate the duration for personal reasons. maybe i'm afraid if i stray too far it'll all be over, a new chapter will begin. it could just mean i can't put it in the past. sleepless nights where i dial your number and call you to my bed. all that's visible is your figure - you don't say a word. i wonder aloud, playing with the length. it seems shorter when it plays out as redundant and i briefly wonder if that's what we're really all fighting. a shameless routine we don't want to see. and yet i am curiously angry with all that challenges and forces a forfeit of the routine.
can you dig it?
however, it's possible to be tripped up, a created distraction that follows my track, noting all my moves, could be following you too. he's a predator that has studied your scent and has inherited your story, wishing to rewrite himself into only the most personal and particular. out on the streets - not even on the sly - he tells every individual, ones that won't even listen, my story. from birth to present.
all the candid details and every sterling moment.
so without the faintest bit of effort he has overnight become me. with a better reputation, more distinguished education, and a look slightly more established as beauty.
i'd laugh but my life's work was just discredited. i went down to the local bar. the floors were so sticky i could merely sway my hips. i engaged in some drinking, breaking my sobriety, i complained to the regulars with their layman rebuttals. i was unconvinced of their struggles, but sure of their stacked up disappointments. but i longed for you and it was apparent. when i downed my last beer i found the door and made my way out. i stumbled out and then along home.
back in my bed, right where i had started. but now with a stench from all the sparring with the sorted soul who found himself kicking my ankles. and for all the splendor that all his admirers reported - when i was asked i always denied talking.

One Hail Mary, Then Let's Go Out

before, we would sit on the train together and pretend to be in love - just for the tourists. your arm around me. my hand on your thigh. i'd tell a story to the tourist and you'd stare passionately at me. you'd tell a story to the tourist and i'd stare admiringly at you, a quick look back to the tourist, just checking in, right back to your lips. then you would say your goodbyes and depart at your stop. me and the tourist left to rear the conversation.

as the train leaves your stop the tourist addresses me. filled with envy and anguish as he gropes through two questions. could two people be more in love? can i ever find that?
the tourist slowly comes back from that place we always sent them. the bright pasture filled with life. you bounce and the bumblebees don't scare you. and the river will never stop running, and the trees will always be in bloom.
the tourist was so far off after bearing witness to a pure love that flourishes between us.

the tourist looks back at me and makes a statement of fact: "you and your boyfriend really love each other"
i correct him on our circumstances. i tell him of our wild love for one another, but remind him that we're still young. i assure the tourist i'm in love with you, and i'm almost sure you feel exactly the same way. i tell how our unfortunate dilemma roots from the sole truth to our love. we both know that once we get together there would be nobody else after. i explained gingerly to the tourist that neither of us are ready for that sort of commitment quite yet.

at the moment we preferred to stage our love on the train. we needed to remind people of that young unconditional love. a real life memo reminding folks that this rare and untamable beast may be endangered, but it's not extinct. only hard to sustain. and while it might put on a show, it rarely makes a curtain call, and never delivers an encore.

The Last Holiday Between Lives

it just occurred to me that we're gonna spend the holidays together. and i'm not quite sure what to make of it. i'm always for signs and symbols , but you punched me in the face and i just walked away. first i fucking spit the blood right in yer face. no i'm telling the story differently. it was at your shoes, and i missed. good enough for me because you probably would have beat the shit out of me if i did what i wanted.

when i was growing up i always said to myself that i wouldn't let anyone get the best of me. of course years later i did. i was carved out, and i know you took all the good. or whatever it was that let me function. i resembled a normal person, and you might have seen through it, but maybe then you should have backed off and let me have it.

and god you sound silly when you're bashing my choices. i look at you and i know not to get angry, i didn't make you and i can't change you. where does that leave me? i'm being pushed out of the smallest social circle, the most desperate club. fuck it. i'll give up, and give it some time.

i just know that when i went in for seconds, you smiled. it was wide and bright. and for nearly an instant i had the world. for all the other instants when you rejected me dissipated. but the rejection staved off the the merriment.
i about gave up on life right then. i wanted to go to the bar, order a whiskey and coke, and eventually order 3 more.

stay there to closing being brigaded by whispers representing the past.