8/28/10

on my train home from my first day of class i spotted this charming old man, skinny as could be, alone, bouquet of flowers in hand. he was so skinny through his clothes you could see his bones, the shirt was just hanging on him. he was so fragile and when i got a closer look at the flowers they looked as sad as him, mostly baby breath. i wondered if he found them pretty or if it's all he could afford. when i first started speculating where he was going i thought a girlfriends or maybe a granddaughters graduation party. then it slowly occurred to me what if it was a grave he was headed to.

his wifes 10 year death anniversary. somebody what - 6 feet under the ground - buried, being visited by probably one of the few souls left who even cares. her body wasting away only slightly less than his own. he briefly wishes doctor assisted suicide was legal, but then he hears her voice, all those years ago, while laying on her death bed. she said she'd be waiting for him. the scenes outside passing so fast he considers the terms of the vow - would she still be waiting after this long? after all he had waited for her, still bound to she who no longer existed in a tangible form. he thought it would be insulting to their marriage to stray even inches.

upstairs she was scrambling to make arrangements for their reunion, knowing much better than him the wait was almost over.

he got off at jamaica where we made eye contact, but his face was now expressionless.

I Am The End

all i can see is the end of summer. all i can feel is the end of me. with nobody. maybe it's a stretch, or maybe its condensed. i'm not quite sure, but suddenly everything is even more meaningless to me. things i thought i had are frequently gone, and ways i thought i knew are redirected from you. how impossible is nothing, and how possible is everything.

there is nothing to brag about, and even less to mention. days they pass with no intention. i want to get out, i want to break free, how badly i'd like to be nothing but me. i know i'm away and no one can see the things i've done to end up without grace, to end up face to face, with the person i thought could be a change - they were the worst, and i hate to place blame.

i'm off. i'm done. i'm like you on a day after work where you realized this isn't what you want. i'm sorry and sad, but i bust through the day - i want to end up free from the shame.

i can't run fast enough. i can't wiggle through the net that's you.
and when i see all the old men who frequent the dust, i collect what is mine and i'm off with it all. i'm at the office where you should be. i'm out in the street running wild with glee. i'm punished with you, you track my every thought. but unlike you i have my own.

i'm honest but troubled and i can't even lie. i'm rubble beneath the river you cry. wish me luck i'll be gone in time, it goes fast. if you ever wanna talk again i suggest you change and discard all of the shit that made you happily with me.

The Shards They Cut

people are everywhere, and somehow within the population we find ourselves almost attributed to some. like lines in a web, significant of all the relationships, that's the word. they're like lines. some run parallel and they're next to you but you don't ever intersect. then there's the ones that do - intersect. who knows for how long, but they do. and it's very different, parallel and perpendicular. the ones that touch must eventually part, they're going towards opposite destinies. the ones that walk along will always be there, but never There.

who's to say which is better? it all comes out looking like shit anyway. whole pieces of your life headed the other way, and you're left looking down at your hands wondering how you'd be better off. i try and blank myself of the whereabouts of the pieces left. corpses from them all rot in the spaces of my mind.

sometimes i can't find relief. i'm looking for a place where reminders don't exist, much less seen fathomable. it's away from here, but it's around. mighty things have to be far. change is distance, and the further the better.

Don't Answer The Door

i'm drab in the morning as i drink my coffee. it's not outside and i want to go out, but i want someone to go out with me. it's too early and i wont even leave to get the newspaper. not yet. it's a game of cat and mouse between myself and the paper. it tormenting me, and i toying with it. my sly and flirtatious looks out the window yield me nothing though. at the wake of the day i settle in like i'm going to bed. backwards motions and death defying thought bring me to the foyer and walk me out the door.

how many people will come to my funeral. if i died this morning. 75? 125? am i being modest. or maybe too optimistic. i'd like to see the demographics, some real breakdowns. for instance, how many: people who should have passed before me, siblings of actual friends, people who were inconvenienced, teachers, people who actually liked me, people i didn't actually like...stuff like that. funerals are funny, most of the guests are probably driven by curiosity, not even pity or sympathy - and that's cool. chances are the dead don't care why you showed up even if you decorate the room with flowers and send food baskets to the immediate family.

well, back to the actual news.

At My Knees

sometimes i think, is it so bad how much, i want to. live on the beach
watching the water current, wondering if you're coming
i imagine i'd track the path of the bludgeoning sun
- no clock - with me, to share the fun

then when the tide goes down, i'll go out in the sea. but just up to my knees
so as i don't drown
since all my thoughts are clogging my head, i now breathe through my knees

standing there still. my memories all hurt me
they scold me and i burn
it's a see-saw of emotion and there's nothing left to learn

i wait for night to take my place where vacant space separates
me from all the control i granted onto you, the time where -
i lost my implicit belief
and sifted through all the stakes, and
i didn't think before i torched rabid fakes
handicapped you left me watching you
feeding like a hawk on my remains

Dreams Aren't Just Figments

i had a dream last night that i was playing sandlot baseball, pitching a great game, and next thing i know i look at where my shortstop should be and it's just a cardboard box - there to represent my hopes and dreams. this brown-cardboard-worn at the edges-taped up-box. i stared back at it and wondered if it was empty.
only a second passed.
i went back to pitching. i didn't take the steps needed to reach the box, and open it. had i my dreams would have been revealed to me. i swore there was something telling me not to. a voice without a vessel screamed out of every direction "knowing too much can lead to delirium." anyway i could take a guess at what's in the box, i'm not completely in the dark. but i cowered from the ah-ha moment cause i know i don't need it. my unconscious was trying to test me, screw with me, checking to make sure i'm not what everyone says i am. i'm still me.

i'm still that same person, who after i reached the top of the tallest mountain i ran down it. the view was terrible, as it spanned everyone. for now i'll wait in the valley, and i won't tamper with any boxes. and heck, there's things i regret but retreating down that hill just ain't one of 'em. the nonbelievers won't rest. i just hope it's me that keeps them up at night.

My Eyes Gaze Out The Train

i see the world in shapes and sizes

but not to anchor any prizes

Salt In The Wound

my body told me turn around but the momentum was way too much. how could i come to a screeching halt and do an about face when i've been running so hard in one direction for so long. the laws of nature don't allow it. and there i was trying to think of ways to go against nature, to beat her bloody hard and make her look a fool. haha. i had myself going.

i think i have ADD because next thing i know i'm thinking to myself where the fuck to they come up with these important ages. like you can't watch racy movies until you're 13, can't smoke until your 19, no drinking until you're 21, driving at what...17 these days, cheaper coffee and whatnot at 65. the list goes on. offensive video games at 17, renting a car at 21 also - weird how those two are paired. enlist in the armed forces at 18, tattoos at what...18? they won't diagnose you with crazy insane-people diseases until you're like 20. heck with parental consent you can be emancipated before 18 and do a whole bunch of what i just listed earlier. it's all cool if your parents are on board for the ride. hell, at least you'll have them to blame.

after a moment removed from the moment at hand i find myself tearing off scabs just to wish on them. to wish for the things i lost back. the things that walked away. the things i pushed away, and the things i threw away. for some of them to be like a boomerang.

and i know the impossible can't become possible just by wishing, but there's too many hours in a day not to at some point find myself believing in miracles and in time travel and in what ifs.

i'm mindfucked.

also, i'm thinking of inventing a real travel size salt, the size of a credit card, because how often do you find yourself wanting salt, but not badly enough to get up and get it?

TOO OFTEN.

Love Is Blind And So Am I

they say love is blind, there's no doubt in my mind she is. she probably got into a bar fight and got her eyes ripped out and then they were subsequently donated to denial and falsehood. they each have but one eye to see a smaller venue, the ones that are nonsensical and lead to hatred among the people who hate themselves. these eyes, or tools, are used for pure evil, the kind that consume and devour simply standard people who know their wants but bank on the bad because it's what they've seen and what they've felt. on the inside, throughout time.

if I could lead the blind i'd tell her to take a step away from the love, from the admiration, and climb the ladder carefully feeling each rung that brings you that love. take a look at how you got there. believe you have the touch to turn that loaf of bread into the shiniest gold. the type people would take a second look at and desire immediately.

but actions will always speak louder than words, and its a real shame because at times our control diminishes from us and we're left to ruin that gold. the gold may move on, but it doesn't forget. it remembers behaviors that were set free and that turned a moment into a memory. a chilling thing that can't be revoked or reversed. and the action was disconnected from the words and thoughts, the beliefs. it took on a life of it's own, but that's what gets remembered when life returns to equilibrium. where the words are absent, when the cat has our tongue.

Mother Fracture

You Think: you know people, you know them from the inside out, you know their core, their soul. you know their quirks and their attributes, their basics - the building blocks of them without a question. if they were in the body of an antelope moping around you'd know it was them. if they caught the breeze and were a tulip you'd smell them and see the way they moved and you'd recognize it as your pal. if they danced with a stranger or begged for a quarter to make a call you'd know. you'd know it was them.

However: once you're sold out, you're sanity leaves and you begin to believe that you didn't know nothing. what you knew was a hoax, and they set you up. they sold you to a pawn shop for way less then your worth. you are stupid. and you're me.

But: you will wake up. you will overcome. you will take on the day and satisfy things that never needed satisfaction. you will prove yourself wrong, and make fundamental changes that you knew you had to but never insisted upon. you will break the cycle and move from the range of the anger left from the tiniest bit of your heart. eventually everyone needs to restart. and begin anew.

Then Again: nothing is easy. and life is a boat that sets sail on a shallow pond with the fondest of folks and if you don't take part and look for some fondness everything will be worthless and beyond what you thought was a furnished life with love.

SO JUST COME. HOP ON. LEAN OVER THE BOW.

A Real One-Liner

i walked so slow to school today because i didn't wanna get there.

A Dog Off His Leash

i love the sweatshirts and shorts thing, because it means summer nights, borrowed cigarettes, binge drinking, grilled peppers, humid warmth, silent streets, slow mornings, tired eyes, and it defines me in an outfit. it's like a dog off it's leash. a rabbit in the garden. a civilian at the bus stop. an ornament on the tree. it's warmth amongst cold. it's beyond me and i'm beyond it. it's patient and scared, and i'm right there. i wear it proudly and sleep soundly. i ache and it torments. i don't push any further. i look deep in it's eyes and swear that i'll come back, i wont embarrass my soul when its pitchforked on a street i used to walk and sweat as i walked the beat. i'm looking for you to tell me the answer regardless of how many days i spent pushing and avoiding, on top of that i took something sacred and lit it on fire to see though the street.

i was a dump and everyone saw it. i made new friends, they couldn't be bothered. everyone has their answer, and their excuse. mine are the same. one of kind. the abuse.

if i had stronger arms i'd lift you and take you through the river with me. cooled but hot i'd move relentlessly.

bygones are bygones maybe yet again.

"All Problems Just A Toy Balloon, They'll Be Bursting Soon"

i don't have any plans. i did watch 5 straight episodes of law & order svu today though.
i'm praying for a miracle. my hopes aren't high, and i'm not right now either.
i'm praying for a start, for a jump, for more.
i'm praying, and it sounds a lot like pleading.

i'm panting, i'm gasping, and i'm reaching.
deep down i know i can overcome anything with nothing. i know i'm blessed.

i fell off the bike but i'm gonna get right back on.
i'm toxic.

i got my tarot cards read and she said i'm self-sabotaging - i am.
change can happen with the right remedies.
i'm searching for them non-stop. it's hard without being eager.

i'm basking, i'm clawing, and i'm craving.
i threw out the blueprints, but i picked them from the garbage.
after, i jumped a chain link fence and my pants caught and tore.
i thought of my heart.

Un(insured,employed,important)

i went to the doctors today and i have bronchitis, he told me it was an inch short of pneumonia.

and then he told me i should start feeling human again in a week. hearing that got me reminded of it. he didn't know that i hadn't felt human in quite some time, way before i started feeling like shit a little over a week ago. it was nice to hear that i'm not completely mental - it's physical too.

On The Cusp Of Greatness, I Just Need A Landing Spot

i'm gonna try here, really hard, but my thoughts are so disorganized lately - so incomprehensible that i'm unsure if i can even write a coherent blog post. i'll try for the sake of trying though.

i wanna start by saying,

the worst part is, life does go on. i'd like it to stop cold in its tracks every time something happens, where i'm slow to recover. but it just continues. after one of those "this cant be happening moments" its unfair life goes on. after the worst, you'd want to die along side all your dead reality, or your fleeting dreams. next thing you know, it's years later and you're still at the scene assessing the repercussions but the scene has been long gone. and i'm just playing catch up where i'm being lapped.

here's a glimpse into how things have been for me lately,

i got off the train and i passed a bum and when i did he yelled back at me and i turned around, and he looked me up and down a little further and said "you know what, you remind me of someone i knew growing up." i had no idea what was about to come out of his mouth, this was a suburban bum mind you - a whole different animal. so to hasten this up i asked him who? he replied back a convincing "me."

i can't really tell you how i felt, but i wasn't surprised, i wasn't offended. it was more down, sad. wondering how i ended up here, at this exact moment - this bum telling me this, regretting everything before. it'd be dishonest to say i didn't revisit the incident several more times in my head the following days. and it became obvious shortly that i'd remember this forever.

leads me to another bum story,

i was walking down 5th avenue and there was an older gentleman bum hunched over, stationary. everyone was passing him like nothing was the matter, but something was the matter. i got close to him, and you never want to startle a bum because you don't really know what they'll do, so i gently touched his back and said "are you alright man?" he straightened out, stood up and said "yeah," and kept on walking. i just continued on my way, wondering if people were just looking out for themselves and i shouldn't be too cynical.

my grandma used to say "no good deed goes unpunished."

leads me to random acts of kindness,

before my final for psychology is about to start a lady is asking around for an eraser, no one has an extra. the girl next to her cuts her pencil's eraser in half and hands it over.

pay it forward.

and this,

my friends next door neighbor is dying, inoperable tumor and leukemia. he's around 80-years-old. her mom took her almost 3-year-old grandson over to see him, Chuckie, and his wife said it was the first time she'd seen him smile in days. i almost cried. i probably did later on.

and when i asked my friends mom why all the good people have to die, she told me the bad ones do too.

and that's that.

The Last Post Where I Stand

while on the road to ruin
i break from the harrowing path
not that i'll recover
i just didn't want to dash

my ambivalence spills over
i can't move any further

and where i stand, you're a paradox
you hold a wind chime high
and every time it sounds
i'm reminded of my feeble mind
the one that keeps me
-so far from moving on

oh but you're a well
and oh so deep below
i just wish i could cope
and meet you down your hole

so what's this quality of life?
feels as if a dull knife
is barely breaking skin
and i can't let you in

- when sometimes strangers seem so close
i bleakly share with them my curse
they look on with grim
and i can't let you in

I've Got These Scars That I'm Hiding From Times That I Should Have Died And I Drink To Remember Them All

i got a crack in my iPod screen, it's large and spans basically the entire screen. i dropped it right on it's face on a tile floor. i really wasn't as upset as i thought i'd be and i'll tell you why.

because although the screen is cracked it's a mere flaw. it still has all the same capabilities as it had before. now just with a reminder.

i looked at it, accepting the crack, and when i did i thought about myself. maybe sometimes things happen and you make it out okay, other times you're left with a scar, a crack - you didn't. you live with it. but you still have the same capabilities as before. before you screwed up momentarily, or were harmed and left permanently damaged.

it's all still there.

Mankind Takes Hikes

i know everyone needs their play. i see it in cracks and on roof tops. everywhere imaginable.

i just wish you could stand with me through all my glorious and rocky walks and take with you everything i have. maybe then you'd be less quiet and more committed to a life of love.

i repent nothing. and neither do you.

and aside from all the mock run throughs i was current with the news. you were too, but everything took for granted what we made of it. you call it all ridiculous, i hope you have no idea what that means. you say things like impossible, impractical - all i can say is grasp me like you want to and follow the heart you've bloated but have. permanence can't be a scapegoat, and i'm leaving, but i'll let you know my whereabouts so if one day you decide to change your mind come and find me.

Together We Could

i feel cranking and clanking on my insides

like there's a heavy piece of metal

terrified of moving anyway forward

i would like to stay in this moment

and i go numb

with the slightest stroke

the briskest touch

a week ago i felt your throat

at the back of my neck

and you swallowed

but i still couldn't

muster up anything

my worthless desires

are stationary and sit

i wish you

to my side

before i

-quit

I Am A Stump, And You Don't See It

driving back home, and oh god it hurts, but i'm fixated on the moon, and like that it doesn't move.

how i'd die for you to do the same.

and it's a daytime sky at the break of dusk, and i want to look at you, it feels something like a must. but i know if i do, i'll tear up and cry so i take deep breaths and instead think of the wry. i reach out and grab you and turn you to me, it's all in my head but it plays out beautifully. i stutter at the opportune time, as always i can't cross our line.

Two For The Show

i take rides from strangers, it's a little quirk of mine. i don't know if you've ever heard the term personal fable, but it something like that.
i just don't see it happening. that whole thing where you take a ride from a stranger and you end up chopped up, buried in a hole somewhere, deep in a wood.
i wonder what the real odds are yanno, like in terms of lightning. it's funny that's like the breadbasket of odds. "you have a better chance of being hit by lightning." well no shit. haha.
it's funny too because he had his laptop on his lap, driving, and i told him i might just be better off walking. nah, screw that.
i'll tell you though about odds, because one time i took a ride from this pizza delivery guy, and first off i never thought i'd see him again, and then i add on top of that if i did happen to run into him again i wouldn't recognize him worth a lick. but there he was ahead of me on line at 7-11. whatever the place is next door. he was wearing the shirt.

The Impossible Let Downs You Have To Admire

i keep listening to sad songs. if makes me feel better, like we're forever. and i'm not beyond you or myself so i know it's close to impossible. it's just i think life without you would be something similar to a yellow top hat, clear nonsense. i don't feel as stupid as i look, you must trust that. if i did i'd just stop, and believe you'd be waiting there telling me people will come and every thing will get done. but i won't believe anything, certainly not you. forever you've tested me and closely won. but i feel a fool for letting you get one up. if five years from now i'm still making the wagers and you can't even do a simple favor things could be real clear. like the glass or diamond you're set to steal. and right now i'd love to say "fuck my life" but i know that's not the case. i have so much more to set aside, to let you see that i'm not that fucked up individual you burnt and let free. i guess fuck you this is more about me.

i got on the escalator, coffee in hand. i could see that it was raining outside so i needed to zip my jacket up. i put the coffee down on the step ahead of me and turned my attention towards the zipper. i struggled to get the zipper up. the escalator was getting closer to the top as each second passed.

I Just Don't Know Anymore

my mom always tells this story about how when i was a kid my family would go on vacation, and they'd leave me behind. i was too young. she said i would stare out the window hysterically crying, watching them leave. wishing they'd turn back towards home and take me with them. hoping maybe it was all a sick joke - them leaving me behind.

a part of me still feels like that little kid.
wondering where everyone went.
hoping they'll come back for me.

On The Horizon

my days all feel the same
wonder-less and bland
if only i could change
life would grab my hand

running through the wood
and laying on the grass
he'll tell me all that's good

and then we would march,
hands held - beyond
that silly horizon that seems
something similar to stone

we'd continue to chase
that line of space

Musings To You

"i can't believe you ruined my life. actually i can't believe i let you ruin my life. or am letting you ruin my life. nah i never even had a life. not one to really ruin anyhow. i mean i put ice in my milk for christ's sake. i bet someday in the future i might though. and people think i'm pessimistic, i'm not pessimistic. well i'm hardly pessimistic. or at least i'm not pessimistic just for the hell of it. that McDonalds commercial right now. haha. a beefy McDouble or a juicy McChicken. anyway the entire thing is like when you finish the cereal and its good and bad. because on one side the cereals all gone, but on the other side you don't have to put it away. you know what it is, i've been biting my nails until they bleed and lately when i wake up i feel really weak like a might throw up. i need to know what i'm doing wrong. i strive to know. maybe i should set a deadline, i'm behaving like a skitzo. talking to myself like this, especially when i'm convinced i'm talking to you. you know what my problem is, i took everything you said so literally. as fact. how stupid can one person be. the truth is if i could just get over it, that maybe you're not the end all be all, i'd be okay. i try and tell myself that it's a wide world and there just has to be people as good, but then i think of you. in a word i'd call you supple. i know it doesn't sound flattering, but it's you, and it's why i love you. the whole thing makes it hard for me to breathe. i must say i have to take it slow or else i'd be gone. oh god, when i think of you i don't wanna leave the house, i mean i already feel stranded so nothing would change. except the nonsense where i play around. i need to sit still. and maybe find someone who'd sit with me."

I Want To Stand Up And Shout About Everthing That Hurts

i hear your conversation. my ex this and my ex that. the lawyer bills, the house he bought without even telling you. the final straws. i'm not really sure what it all means, but it was depressing as heck hearing it. especially when all i can think is how lucky you were to at least have someone for whatever amount of time to be there. to be yours. to be on the same team.

so what if it faded.

i'm not sure where i stand. so happy to be here, but feeling so dismal. everyday aches by. i'm surrounded by torment. all derived from you, and not that you're at fault, but i think i'd do better without seeing you. you know i'm really nothing. i bet you breathe it everyday, and i'm just sitting here wishing that you'd just go away. i think of the dullness i project, i don't know how you even deal. god if i were you i'd be gone, i'd cut my ties from everything like me. things even reminiscent of me i'd write off and kick to the curb. and in the morning i'd wake up, rejoice, and remember all that promise i probably thought i had. but because i'm actually me, like every other day, i'd let it die, let it go.

i see right through myself.

Fuck FedEx, It's The USPS

i've been frequenting the post office almost twice weekly these days, in an attempt to sell all my belongings so i can put off getting a real job and make my switch to buddhism a bit easier down the line. i've seen a beautiful array of situations take place and i've wanted to write about each of them. i wanted to write splendid paragraphs that could prove Lawrence Kohlberg completely wrong. america still has morals. my writings would detail the random acts of kindness and merry humor i've witnessed as i wait in line on an average of 15 minutes per visit.

something strange happens when you enter the post office, its like a world warp or something. maybe each one of them there is a veteran of these lines that move slowly but effortlessly. maybe they engage themselves here because they do no where else. lending what little spirit they have left to the rest of the room. i don't really know the physics behind it. but to sum it up, i've seen racial boundaries passed, and old people that felt young.

but yesterday it was better than all that.

there was a lady, a woman, a caregiver. she was with a man, could have been a brother, friend. it's really unimportant. he was handicapped, using a walker. taking a step back for every two steps forward. his hands were shaky. i looked to his eyes though, i wanted to feel his pain, i wanted to see what it looked like. a man robbed of normalcy. but when i saw his eyes there was no pain, there was a tender and warm happiness. i saw he was in high spirits, but i figured he was masking the real pain, but it just wasn't there.

she was an inch short of ecstatic.

he asked her if she could hold the door.
she said no, never, i will not do it.
as she was holding it wide open.
it couldn't have been opened any wider.
he, at a crawls pace, got through the door.

A Golden Error

i would have been better off in a time period where things weren't about square feet and crash test ratings. something about carelessness i love, and something about ambition i hate. ambition is a really nice way of making the rat race seem worthy of my time. how far past satisfaction is ambitious?

probably too far.

and what really are achievements besides inventions we've played out as such. i'm unconvinced of the conventional and current definition of success. does a dollar sign have to be attached? or an accolade?

maybe they do. it's the easy system for comparison. our best friend.

If You Can't See It, It Can't See You

i think about the distance we worked so hard to create
we thought would keep us safe
and it was all in good faith

you with all your friends, the ones i never met
standing at the basement stairs
i wonder if you'll descend

i'm at home alone, in my complacent room
away from all the clamor
you taught me to distaste

i'm just wondering
-the distance
-was it a mistake?