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[11 Nov 2010|12:37am]
hello, long-time listener
first-time caller
i wanted to tell you
how dead i was
when i felt your
creeping palms
needing my doughy
flesh like bread
have you ever noticed
the sky in winter white as walls
like these
and have you ever noticed
how cold breath in easy
autumn
when i was a kid we used to
this is stupid
we used to pretend
we were smoking
because haha
the breath
nevermind
hello, hello
my former
long-distance
lifeblood hotline
i remembered
give me a number
tell me something
give me give me
a break or a reason
i wanted to tell you
how much i wanted to feel
when you said you'd love me
and i laughed, asshole
you were, and
you were a stranger
but
oh my god
aren't we all
i don't know
i know just what happened
we were separate diseases
did you catch it, did you die?
i'm laughing again
you could never believe me
and well, why
would you
hello are you there
i don't remember your voice
it's not you that haunts me
it's my powerlessness
my power both at once
you tried to rule over
my intoxicating frailty
my inherent beauty
but you couldn't do it
you couldn't
with your aching fingers
move me
hahah oh just
forget it
oh my god
i'm laughing again
i'm sorry
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you're already an old man [04 Jul 2010|06:02pm]
you're already an old man
you're locked up, shut tight
your hands are rough and your eyes
tell me nothing when they whisper

you're not really yet

but you're gonna be

and i can see you now

your wild chocolate hair faded to a
careworn grey
a stormy tide receding from
soft freckled sand
the creases deep along
your bright chlorine eyes
behind the glare in your
black plastic-framed glasses
your back hunched
in a rusty pickup truck
calloused hands lightly drumming
a scalding steering wheel
in mid-july
the engine growling as you pull out
of a rocky drive
and onto a stretch of sticky highway

you're gonna be okay
you sigh a little and turn up the radio
static like the sound inside your head

blue sky like the bottom of a flame
behind and ahead
no clouds
just a blazing white sun
right on top of you

a cherry on a melting
sunday
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the perpetual plot [22 Apr 2010|01:42am]
you are the accidental antagonist
but i am not a sympathetic character
you are a schizophrenic sidewinder
and i am a longlost lifesucker
wonder what we'll do together when
we wander out of place
whether we are meant to collapse when
connected and stutter back
or synapse

if the rooms in your head are all alike
i will go through every one and slap the
walls with a seperate vibrant pigment
and if all the stairs lead to ceilings
then i will punch through the roof
to let in the sickwarm sunlight
and i might smother you but
i will try not to crush your
fragile body with my
ferocious motion

perhaps
i am the antagonist
i antagonize everyone
and you

i don't know how to feel things
that aren't tight against my chest
atrophying muscle heavy dark
pressing bleak at my skin
pouring out of pores and eyes
making me a frightened child
pushing me under water sucking
chlorine, skin and piss into my lungs
eight and a half feet deep
this shit's for diving
and i just slip right in

pull me up
press me against
warmwet concrete
my vision will focus on
you, solar eclipse
i will learn to breathe

we are the antagonists
our story isn't written yet

and if it's fucked
well
let's hope it's fucked
forever
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lovesong [01 Apr 2010|04:31pm]
i'd make your heart my dinner
if i thought it might get me closer
i'd drain the blood into your ashtray
and eat it like a soup
i'd cut off all your hair
and knit it into a sweater
that smells of shampoo and time
i'd wear it around every day, everywhere
until it fell to pieces at my feet
i'd cut the irises from your eyes
and set them in a tarnished ring
anyone that sees might stutter
and say how lovely, those gems
or i could place them over my own
and maybe see what you've seen
like a viewmaster full of
faded pictures from all the days
i never knew
i'd take and keep them in myself
and remember
and when i was done
i'd give myself to you as a present
to do what you want with
to squeeze in the night
like a little girl and her rag doll
and i wouldn't move until you moved me
lifting and bending my arms and legs
i'd kiss you any time that you said so
because i want to
every time i hear the screams of children
that sound like death in the park
but like me
like you
they're just playing
a game
as the daffodils blossom
in spring
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mission statement [30 Mar 2010|11:21pm]
last time i saw you
you were on twenty xanax
you asked me if i liked your hat
and if i wanted a cigarette
though i didn't smoke then
your skin lay over your bones
like a delicate tablecloth
over an old wooden table
and you left splinters in
my fingertips as you took
my hand in yours and you
said you had a heart of gold
and i said 'i know'

a year an a half later
punching concrete until
my knuckles purpled
sitting glaring at the world
on a cerulean cloudless
fucking afternoon
the sun bright as jesus
i said to myself
as i crushed out the burning
embers of my cigarette
and of my doubt:
'so help me god
or whoever
i know it's in there
and i am gonna
find it'

and when i do
it better damn well
be my prize
1 comment|post comment

an unfamiliar repeat [27 Mar 2010|10:40pm]
what a diff'rence a day made
dinah sings
but everything is the same in
different ways so what difference
does it make?
i wandered through seventeen thousand
hours and couldn't make a change
i couldn't make those apparitions
take flight from an addled heart
a broken mind
he turned out all right
years have been kind as they were long
his skin is flushed with blood
he laughs with no difficulty
i can see and when i touch him
i cannot feel him cracking beneath
my fingertips and my god -
there is a god
there has to be
or he wouldn't be here now
would he? or am i making some mistake
my eyes are swimming in disbelief
the mirror reveals what modern parlance
cannot say
i feel like keats
i want to write him letters dripping
with the bloody words of my endless love
ripped from my pathetic soul
o, you have absorb'd me!
he'd smile indifference
i have no choice
i've never loved anything
that wasn't a faint annoyance or torment
it makes no difference
blackouts, panic attacks, mere time
nothing will change it
please just
let it lie just stay here
i'm so pleased i could die here
forget about
turning the
record
over
post comment

fighterfire: the novella version! [09 Mar 2010|12:08am]
there'll be some stuff you've read, but a lot you haven't. it's changed a bit. it's five thousand or so words but still a pretty quick read, i'd say. nothing complex, of course. please let me know what you think if you read it. so... yeah.

have at it, if you wish.Collapse )
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that's not what i do [08 Feb 2010|06:53pm]
someone said to me once,
"you are a poet"
and my dreadfully
needy ego was
inclined to
believe them
but i know
somewhere deep
down to the bone
that i am no
more a poet
than you
the one reading this
i am just a
secret-teller
i write down all i
have inside
i give
i heave up onto paper
my fears and desires
my grisly sinew
in the form of
hacked-up lines
lexical vomit
and if a few
people want it
that's okay
but it doesn't
make me great
post comment

talking to strangers [08 Feb 2010|06:51pm]
we spoke once
it wasn't much
but
i told you
an idea that was
only just
forming
and you
i barely knew
what a forgivably
human
thing to do
to be an open
book is to invite
disaster
i felt
like a bag
cut open
its soft
bewildered contents
making a terrible
mess
at your feet
and you
looked at it
and simply
lifted your shoulders
as if to say
so?
so i knew
you were not
someone i should
trust
because people
who don't mind
a mess
are people who
are desperate
and think
that they
can fix you
because messes
want people
so bad
and people
who want messes
want people
worse
and honestly
that shit
scares me
i knew
i had to make
a run for it
before it was
too late
i have got
to learn
to keep
my mouth
shut
post comment

epitaph [26 Jan 2010|06:52pm]
when i am dead
i will have been
since the moment
in which i succumbed to
the fear of failure
a sound we hear and
all too often listen to
not so much a voice as
a ringing
a wake-up call
to go back to sleep
i should not be blamed
but i should not be forgiven
for desires of perfection
they might say they were
caused by my mother
shooing me out of the kitchen
because she could do it faster
or maybe my brother
knowing i could never be his mother
even though i had to try
i'd like to say i'd never thought it
but my resentment never fell far
from the family tree
and i always lashed out at the ones
who tried to be comforting
even when they had shit to do
you know,
i could be at a greyhound bus station somewhere
with bloody fingernails and vodka for dinner
because at some point
it's what i'd resigned myself to
i know that's not how this ended
and i've got them to thank for that
i'd like to try at an apology
but it doesn't matter anyway
they loved me then
i can only suppose
they'll love me still
suppressed
beneath the ground
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fighterfire (part... four?) [30 Dec 2009|03:09pm]
[i'm not sure how i'm going to end up stringing these all together and make it sound right. this is also in third person, unlike the other three. i tried it in first but it worked better this way. i really just like these characters i've made up. i'm not sure what this adds to the story, maybe nothing, and i might just scrap it but i really just like writing dialogue between these two.]




“Do you mind?”

Veronica turned toward her slowly, blowing smoke into her pale face.

Elise clenched her jaw. “Suppose that answers my question.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall beside her friend. “You could at least try to be kind, you know.” She gestured outward toward the partygoers, adding softly, “these… these are our people! Smart, educated, nonjudgemental –”

Snorting, Veronica put her cigarette out in a cup of something bluish. “These are your people, Elise. Your college fuckers. I simply did you a favor by coming here with you.”

“A favor! Why, I –”

“Elise!” A tall, lanky man with oversized glasses sidled up to them. He was wearing a smart tweed waistcoat and jacket. “I’m glad you came!” He looked over at Veronica and smiled. “And hello, who might you be?”

Veronica either sneered or forced a smile; it was hard to tell which. “The name’s Richie. Richie Cunningham, and I s’pose you know the Fonz here. I like your mutton chops.”

The man absentmindedly touched his reddish facial hair. “Oh – uh – thank you.”

Elise rolled her eyes. “Adam, this is Veronica. Veronica, Adam.”

Adam nodded and smiled. Veronica took out another cigarette. “Charming party,” she purred. “I assume you invited our small friend and this is your humble abode?”

“Yes,” he responded proudly. “And, uh, I hate to say this but I’d rather people not smoke in here.”

Veronica paused mid-light. “Look, kiddo, the smoke smell won’t last but a week, I promise.”

Elise closed her eyes and sighed.

“Well, uh, I’d really rather you not,” Adam said, scratching his head nervously.

“She’s not going to,” Elise said, abruptly snatching the cigarette from her friend, and giving her a stern look.

“Aw, yeah, of course not, man,” Veronica said with a pasted grin. “You march to the beat of your own drum. No drugs and all that. Cool, man.”

He looked slightly bewildered, and Elise touched his arm. “Hey, uh, we’re gonna go… get some air, okay? Be back in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, all right,” he said, with a twitchy head scratch again.

“Gotta go get that nicotine that I’m addicted to, rather,” said Veronica, as Elise dragged her away.

Once they were outside, Elise handed Veronica her cigarette. “You are being a complete asshole.”

“’Ey!” she cried over the cigarette between her lips as she clicked her lighter. “Ish jusht having shome fhun! Shoosh.”

“If you didn’t want to fucking come, you didn’t have to.”

Veronica blew smoke out her nose. “Please. I’m the one with the car.”

“I could have gotten a ride!”

“From who, Walking Neurosis back there? Can he even operate a lawnmower?”

Elise rolled her eyes. “You can’t operate a lawnmower, Veronica. And he’s not that bad.”

“I have acrylic nails, sweetheart. And yes he is. He’s a nervous freak. Just like you.”

“Well quite honestly, I’m flattered,” Elise said haughtily, hands on her hips. “I quite like Adam, and I don’t know why you don’t either, if you hang around with me so much.”

Veronica sighed. “My dear, my dear. Do I have any choice in the matter? You’re like a puppy that wandered into my yard. I can’t help but like you.” She reached out and pinched Elise’s cheeks, but Elise slapped her hand away.

“You don’t really like anyone.” Elise nearly shouted. “You hate humanity. And by extension, yourself. Don’t argue with me,” she added as Veronica opened her mouth. “You know it’s true.” She sighed heavily and kicked the concrete steps. “I’m trying to set things right – I know there is goodness in people.”

“You feel guilty,” said Veronica dully. “I knew it. And now you’ll give any motherfucker a fucking chance.”

“Not just any!” Elise cried. Someone from inside looked out the window at them, and she lowered her voice. “I really like a lot of these people. Especially Adam. They’re just trying to get by, just live, you know. He’s got no pretenses or self-righteousness. And he’s forthcoming about his faults, which is sure as hell more than you can do.”

Veronica snorted again. “Uh huh. Honey, they’re all the same.” She put both of her hands on Elise’s shoulders. “I’m only looking out for you, you’ve got to see that. There’s nobody that can be trusted. At least not immediately. We’ve got to look out for each other, for the world, that’s what that whole business was all about to start with.”

“Maybe the world doesn’t need looking out for!” Elise said with a last swift kick to the step. There was no response, so she kept going. “Maybe I don’t need looking out for, either. You thought of that?” She looked down at the dirty ground as Veronica’s cigarette hand shook visibly. “I’m going back inside.” Without a last glance she slipped through the jarred screen door and out of sight.
3 comments|post comment

hero worship [25 Dec 2009|03:43am]
a measured tone
deepens
rich and dark
floats heavy
like coffee's scent
then, settled in -
a rattle of drums
exuberant strings
turn of phrase
sharp refrain
key change
a breath
a longing
once you hear it
you will know it
or you won't
a swell of sound
a searcher found
i think i love you
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twentysomething [16 Dec 2009|01:49am]
i don't want to be a saint
i think you're funny when
you try to talk like one
when you're just like me
what can you do
bitterly you walk
away morals intact but
a new pack of cigarettes
in hand
as you get into your
gleaming polluter
casting stones
you peel out of the drive
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justification [21 Nov 2009|05:50pm]
to be truthful
i was never anything
but a burden upon you
for all my well-chosen words
there was kicking and screaming
but at least all the blood
under my fingernails
was mine
post comment

dirt [18 Nov 2009|01:34am]
i bury myself in the past
dragging my fingers
in the warmth of it
grabbing handfuls
to spread over my eyes
its sallow light
fading to grey
each face i see is a soft sun
half-hidden by worn hands
the nails torn ragged
by yellow teeth
post comment

of feelings and ideas (manifesto poem) [10 Nov 2009|01:15am]
We will never think, feel, do, believe the same. We will never bend to any will but our own. Disagreement is, and will always be. Do not despair - it does not threaten you. I daresay it enriches our lives.

When you argue loudly, it is not the brain that gives up first, it is the ear.
We mustn't take ourselves so Goddamned Seriously. It gives us headaches. It makes the greens and blues fade, and life seem generally less beautiful, less wondrous, it makes one lifeless.

Live and let live! they say - the ever-elusive, all-encompassing they - but everyone forgets to remember that Freedom means that others have their own damn way of living and theirs is not The Way and The Truth.

Your passion for Things in Theory as well as Things on Paper does not prove you love any more than the staunch tie-choked suit-jacketed slick selfish serene Libertarian (Whatever That May Mean).

We are not our theories, our philosophies, our ideologies - as much as you may wish to believe it - and even so, our gravest mistakes do not prove us worthless.

A man may be a Socialist, a man of Ethics with a plan for Our Country - he may want Freedom and Equality and Liberty and Taxes because he cares, you see, about the People as a whole - but he is still a man, and men will turn cold and throw hearts by the wayside. A woman may be a Feminist, want to tear down those institutions that Oppress, want Freedom and Equality and Liberty and Taxes and a better world for her sex and the rest - but she is still a woman, and women will tear apart a heart with no sound and no blood to show.

It is not what you want for the millions of people you don't know, but how you care for the five you claim to love deeply that shows who you are.

We are not our theories, our philosophies, our ideologies.
We are not our view on Insert Pressing Issue Here.
We are not our screaming voices on television.
We are not what we read, what we choose to hear or see.

We are who we are when we place our arms around one another, say "I am here," and want no more.
1 comment|post comment

slacker's lament [04 Nov 2009|01:34am]
what it do man
it's troublesome
there's just a lot of shit, you know
i should extrapolate
i won't
but try to forgive me if you can
i'm not foolin' man
got next to none
of the good, just bad shit, you know
i should try to abate
i won't
but try to forgive me if you can
post comment

summer thieves [10 Oct 2009|01:28am]
                                                  autumn loomed
                                                  i lamented my troubles
                                                  long days and angry work

& was it she
who was yours now?
seems silly how i cried

in the hallway
the shadows would grow
i feared they'd take us

when you spoke of death
i was scalding glass
in suddenly cold water

i was small
& remarkably callous
july seemed so unforgiving

                                                    and then it was gone
                                                    i'm sorry
post comment

february [01 Oct 2009|12:42am]
everything in february
is fucking awful
everything is freezing
nights are black and fragile
steps in the dark are sparkling snaps
against ear-ringing numbness
everything is a killer
the sun does not warm
the hardened earth over the
graves of men who probably died
in february
kicking at ice, spitting at spring
who won't show up already
everything breaks and everything
snakes its way between your fingers
and laughs in your face
and you can stomp the frost all you like
break icicles with bare red hands
scream up into the blinding blue
eyes watering, breath steaming
but fucking february
is going to come again
next year
post comment

men lose their minds [16 Sep 2009|12:49am]
i read about a study
(forty males and forty females
seven minutes "chatting")
that said when confronted
with a beautiful woman
men would forget their addresses
because they are reproductively focused
and women would give
no pause to a man
who was attractive
because they pay more attention
to factors like wealth, youth, and kindness

what am i to gather from this information
but that all there is
is fucking
men fuck for fucking
women fuck for something

i fucking hate you all
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