Tuesday, October 12, 2010


Sweet brown sugar scent
 permeates everything
because every word  spoken
came out all wrong
because everything was more intense than it really was
 gauged, by the responses I got .
I need to go back to a university
Where people don’t give a shit,
Just like in the ‘real world’
Because people like me
cannot exist without fame
And constantly being ignored
I want to tell you everything
So badly,
without sounding like some crazy ex-boyfriend
You once knew.
Their eyes sometimes burn into me
Leaving tracers of who they are
-a child as it sat in the grass
-a boy on a skateboard
-A woman at the farmer’s market
I remember them for a few days and animate their eyes
the madness I take them for
as we all play house
here in the suburbs
our spirits dying slightly
with every traffic-laden Friday afternoon
critical eyes tearing up everything
inside the mental library
I haven’t ever really organized
As I drink coffee religiously
Because ethanol has become a burden
As all things come second to our transportability
As the words:   
 And incarceration
 Float aimlessly in the cabin of a pickup
Driven by an aged-beyond-years prophet
That only wants to be loved by his mother
This is where I sit. Frozen and Stagnant
I dream so Loudly
That I heard their car come to a screech
and crash down the street,
I invited them to come live in my garden
But nobody died.
So I went out to weed the next morning
Dreaming of coming on the faces
of all those models I once knew
who now have also dropped out of the IVY
and got addicted
and work at In-n-out
and destroyed every connection to me
because I am the devil
bearing consumable gifts.
I want to tell you how I ride the mountain
And how they eviscerated my wings
 hanging them up like spread trophies
monuments of what advantages
money has over poverty
as I learned about ‘hobo code’ and the difference
between the middle and wealthy classes.
I want to hold you and touch your skin
Which I am sure is guarded by now,
As if you haven’t had just as much experience
everyone that inhabits this space surely has
to bring light to this place
as I only know of one way
Seeking the mechanics of everything
Is the failing business
That I run, because I know how to steal
The sport was lost years ago… with my wings
When I was left on the side of the road unconscious
And walked back to the suburbs
Where I became trapped in cul-de-sac s
And nobody ever believed I had ever
been close enough to god
To spit in his face

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