Tuesday, November 17, 2009

I don't give a fuck what you think.
I'm going to greet the morning
Punching the hell out of the sky.
In a haze of marajuana and old rusty needles
With the light dripping down
Like slow loss.
And her alabaster skin will kiss my
Bloodshot eyes.
Her, the choosen one,
The one to bring the news that he's gone.
I will die here
Under the weight of her heaviness
Her eyes that know all,
Bleeding for the sins of those without remorse.
My lips holy, like God.
My tongue an instrument for Jehova
So smile or smite them then, Oh great one.
I am done.

Sunday, November 15, 2009


What's it like to die?

To feeling your life ebbing out of you slow
Tiny little stars dancing before your eyes
Then no light at all.

Is it quiet and dignified?
A hush as the heart is taken aside
And put down.
Is it loud and raging?
Death prying your fingertips
Off of consciousness.

Then the miracle.

The voice that calls you back
Willing or unwillingly.
The One who says
"It's not time yet."

Out of cold darkness
Blinding light and heat.
You are reborn
Naked and unassuming

The nurses shout
And you cry out
Your first triumphant call
Of new life
Golden baby with the world
In your mouth

You arise burning and victorious
Living to tell of dying.

So tell me, Oh great Lazarus,
What's it like to live?

Sunday, November 1, 2009

I've done something horrible.
I wish your heart would be broken because then . . . nevermind. It was just a little passing dream I had for us. Go, be happy. I'm happy alone. Well, not really. Content is more the word. I've learned to live again, or at least function. I wish I had drugs sometimes. Something to love. Something to return to instead of empty rooms and bare scrapes of memory that mean nothing now.
It's a little queer that everyone I know now has somebody. Not that I mind really, I don't need anybody. I can keep myself warm through the winter. But apparently they couldn't. I wish I could say it makes me feel Superior, to be such an isolate island in need of nothing, so self sustaining. But I don't feel proud of myself now, not like I thought I would.
But I've found something to hide behind. "I don't need a relationship now." those words keep me safe. I can live a life of fear safely tucked away in monotony I choose. I don't have to take risks or do anything emotionally dangerous. I can control the flow of my life, ignoring the prying eyes of strangers and more threatening, the nice smiles of grocer boys. I don't have to look for love. That unpredictable dangerous hurtful thing. What good ever comes from it? No. I choose to be alone. And I am happy.