Screaming
Past me
No concept
The beat
Systolic
Moving through
rush. Lust.
My mind
Fucks me
better than you do.
Kept in the middle
Always eager.
Put together.
Get it or leave it.
Perspection.
Not everyone
needs a reason.
Not one has
a good excuse.
Human Nature.
I picture his mouth on my thigh.
I grab his head pleadingly
Please, oh please sir
Can I have some more.
Yes. That’s the point.
I found out today someone I’m used to seeing won’t be around anymore. It’s bound to happen. Working at a cafe, there are many familiar faces. Some I remember and most I don’t. It takes prolonged repetition for me to notice anything. Short, genuine interactions one after the other. It can be exhausting. From this I’m rewarded with a handful of people I look forward to seeing. I’m going to miss this particular face.
I strange person walked into the cafe before closing tonight. Well, not strange. Needy. A very needy person came in. Trying to mask his need behind casual conversation I listened to stories about living on the street and coughing up blood. Fear of walking and fear of other people. Clearly I’m not one of the ones he fears. Instead he seemed to think I would be moved by his fear. I have pity. I wish him well. I don’t hand over money. It’s a choice I had to make a long long time ago. The problem isn’t the money. It’s the precedent. If you give money to one person, others want it too. I have to give nothing or I’d be pressed to give everything. I’m that way with my friends too. My good friends never press for much.
Look out, she’s got the red dress on. The dress I wear when I don’t give a fuck. My clothes meant for the Emperor lost in translation.
So many feats of architechture, illusion, smoke… covering up the natural beauty being. Just be. It’s not good or bad. Don’t ask if the dress makes you look fat – ask if it makes you feel good.
Too much ego is bad for the spine.
These squinty eyes of mine. They may look glassy. My expression one of cow-brained ignorance.
That’s just what I look like when I can’t hear.
Sometimes the chaos around me is so loud I can’t take it anymore. I just let all noise wash over me and fight my urge to fly.
I want to be there. I want to engage. At some point
the centre cannot hold.
Read the book An Unquiet Mind. There are revelations there.
I’m going back in. See ya on the flip side.
I published a poem in the school literature book in 3rd grade.
I jotted it on a piece of paper during lunch hour. It describes the way someone feels when they are getting stared at. I used the same free form bullshit I’m spewing now but I’m pretty sure it rhymed. As with all my work, the title introduces the piece so we don’t have to waste time with context.
In the final printing of the book my poem The Stare is titled The Stove. It still kinda worked. At least, everyone said they got it. Whatever. I wish that boy would just talk to me.
I’m at the P&H enjoying the unwitting company of strangers. Mosquitoes finding me inside the bar. Shadows walking up on my left. Passing me by, most every time. Nothing can really phase me once I’m sliced open. The shock alone grants me an amiable demeanor.
Music has a way of smoothing over every situation. Next stop, Dave Cousar at the Buccaneer.
I know a wise Canadian name Gwarsbane that lives by a simple rule. If a game isn’t 5$ or under, he probably won’t buy it. Nothing personal against all the people that want to pay more. He finds that it’s more fun to play many cheap games where he periodically finds gold nuggets instead of investing in the one polished gem. At least, that’s how I see it.
I feel the same way about entertainment. Not sure if I mentioned a 5$ lifestyle last summer, but it was definitely on my mind. I look at the options before me and think about what I’d get for a Lincoln. Not a lot in most parts of the city. However, if you just want to buy a coke, roughly 2$, you can be the bartender’s best friend with that $5. Or barista, ahem, for that matter.
Then it comes down to the ambiance. Always with the ambiance! Why do people want to be there. Me? I look for spots you’d find in postapocalyptic Frost poetry.
From top to bottom
and
the bottom
to the
top.
We can fall
from the sky
Not break
Then jump
From a touch
And crumble
Trembling
Waiting
Full of luster
Butterfly wings
Falling
Kiss me please!
Top
to
Bottom.
There was chain lightning in the sky tonight. I caught a few decent glimpses on Instagram but then hurried home to get some work done. Energy work. The sky is literally crackling with magic.
I’ve discovered more of my shadow and it took me a moment to adjust. I am used to hiding in plain sight. Invisible in obviousness. Nowadays I feel visible. I feel like someone. I like who I am enough to defend myself.
I am aware my shape is pleasing. Maybe it’s DNA? Maybe good habits? I do know my body gets more pleasing the more I value myself as a person. Boundaries and standards and all those other important things.
The glory of mother nature. Behold.