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?

Poem Dedicated To Gags

I'm A Little Monster

the garbage

in my room
in the can
in the bag
- stinks

but here

at the time
from my mind
not the same
buy The Fame

Incubation At The Station

before it started getting warm i was at jamaica station. i rode the elevator up to the mezzanine, that elevator has the softest buttons. visit it sometime and you'll understand what i mean. it's like they want to be pushed.

once i got up i activated the heat lamps over the benches and i sat in between an older gentleman and a middle aged woman. he was texting ferociously as i tried to look over his shoulder. the heat was astounding and i felt myself caught up in it. it was going straight to his head too, he started typing with more purpose, but less dignity. i looked on, figuring he was trying to woo his latest internet fling. trying so hard to get to those next steps. she was still and it looked like something might be bothering her, or everything.

in front of me was a woman with her toddler. i looked onward at them, and for once i thought i wouldn't have minded being either the mother or her young. they seemed to notice the subtle features in each other. she was petting his head and he was clutching her legs, absorbed in her. then he was peaking through her legs watching the world unfold around him at his particular place on the planet.

the heat lamps turned off. i got up a pushed the button once again. they had barely gotten back to they gray tone they maintain while off. the middle aged woman seemed to get some relief from the heat being back on. and she looked up at me and i thought i saw some gratitude in her face.

i thought the lamps could start a fire, unless they already had.

Winter Has Spring And So On

i've never seen as many
- broken umbrellas

scattered through the street
things meant to protect

lying at my feet
the rain came
and poured the same
as it always has

you're still nowhere
- not to be found

so the docile puddles
and the slick asphalt
have me feeling
down and caught
trapped in thoughts
of where you've gone

hey there shopkeeper
my thoughts calm

as slowly i accept
- faint breath
that you're just
at a different place
and i'm ready
to stop saving face

Actions & Reactions

i was drinking a beer at 1045am. if you're seen drinking before noon you get a look, apparently if it's before 11am you get a sneer. just a couple feet away gawking like i was some sort of second class citizen, an untouchable, was this woman. middle aged, and judging me. and what i have nothing to offer because i'm a merry, jobless, alcoholic? she doesn't know me - she can "suck it". and normally i wouldn't judge but i felt entitlement after the looks she gave me. and thing is she was wearing a vest. and there is only one thing worse than a vest: a vest with a hood. i decide i hate this woman and believe she's bitter.

just another drag-you-down middle aged bitch.
i pity the fool.

and the next day i'm in the park, cause its 50 degrees and i have an hour to kill before class. i'm drinking a beer and this little boy is riding his scooter back and fourth as his nanny eats lunch. i smile at him because he's young, and cute, and seemingly fearless. after we exchange some friendly smiles, an understanding, he comes swiftly towards me down the blacktop, and attempts a bunny hop. he fails, falls off the scooter, hits the ground and looks up at me shamefully. i smile back proudly. he had been trying to impress me.

yet again the next week i'm at Duane Reade picking up a 24oz bud-light and the black lady behind me in line says "bud-liiiiiiiight" (emphasis on light), this is by far the classiest person that has spoken to me in weeks. i'm flattered. i look bashfully back and reply that it has 1/3 the calories. she says something about taste and my age and we laugh. she educates me and i listen.

i long to tell her what a bitch the lady in the vest was to me - that they shared nothing in common.