Month: September 2012

9/9/12  10:45am – 9/20/12 9:49am

at a quarter to eight

a phone that works only half the time
is worth twice the trouble
thoughts of undelivered messages
let the imagination double

were her words lost on the way
to say she’s running late?
this is where she said to meet
at a quarter to eight

it’s fifteen after though
with no word or update
her fate assumed to be
the worst i could create

a missing persons report
in short would be a great
way to break the ice
if she turns up for this date

if he kidnapped her then i
know my story must be straight
otherwise headlines will read
“suspect to have killed soul mate”

but there’s nothing more to do
but chew what’s on my plate
oh how the mind can move
while the body sits & waits

9/8/12 5:28pm – 3/25/13 11:47pn

total running time

I
total running time

it will happen when i’m out strolling to
finish a thought.
a driver will lose control of his or her
vehicle and kill me.
of this i’m sure, but what of the
unfinished thought?

i don’t think that it misses a syllable.
at the moment of departure the thought
continues unaware of what’s played out.
no longer within the confines of a skull.

hurdling through outer-spaces currents
while black, blue, & purple pigments mix
only to be carried to a backwards
casket for incubation until arrival.

the first few years spent vacuuming out a past life.

II
a will up for discussion

when i pass away please donate all of my poems
& belongings to whoever comes forward as my reincarnation.
i must have been born at least one second after my departure.
when coming forward to claim my estate i will have one
attempt to correctly recite the three passwords that grant
access to my estate.
if i correctly recite the passwords, but do not wish to claim
these possessions then I can not be me.

9/6/12 8:20am

auto-exhaustive harvesting

auto-exhaustive harvesting:
numbing ones brain to the meaning of an object for
the purposes of therapeautic expression.

ex. learning to sleep with  running water
as background music.

ex. writing about a personal topic until it loses strength.

9/5/12 2:50pm

last swim of the summer

growing up i only enjoyed the pool when
others were around to enjoy it with me.
as i get older i find myself drawn to it not
for comradery, but rather the sedation it offers.
from the first dip below the surface i’m already lost.
the sounds from the world above remain exactly that.
a chance for the nothingness to fill my ears with
dense sounds of water’s weight.
drop’s sounds are magnified to hear the alien
communications they really are.
below i am unable to catch the very breath that i need
to go on living.
it’s impressive that while denying a body it’s  most
essential need it still has the ability to create in the
near-wake of it’s death.
the body shortly after forces the mind against it’s will
to ascend.
the closest thing to dreaming while awake ive experienced.
a dragonfly has become curious of me and i of it while
taking this dip.
it is the first time possibly for us both to be close to each
others kind.
the way it floats around me with absolute confidence
confirms it’s interest.
slowly I extend a wet hand to offer a temporary landing
space.
it makes use of my hand as we both sit observing one another.
i do my best to rotate my hand three hundred and sixty-five
degrees to get a good look at this creature i’ve skimmed
over without a second thought most my life.
as my hand rotates it’s eyes appear to never lose track of mine
a throbbing erection makes itself known.

9/4/12 12:25am

in and of itself

she glides her finger-tips across my back.
it’s done in a manner so graceful.
it’s as if to say she could make them walk on water. i want to speak out and guide her to the spots that would give me instant sensation. i refrain from sound though.
i do not dare to disturb her wordless strokes.
the caressing sucks up all of the stress and nuiances of today becoming yesterday.
then before i can come to learn her patterns she’s switched to shorter; more accelerated circles. all the while finding the dips and grooves of a back made weary by the weight of hours. i come to appreciate my silence.
her motions that feel random are calculated;
full of precision that she might not be aware of her self. she’s telling me without words where it is that requires attention.
it becomes harder for me to differentiate whether or not two hands are working.
trying to count fingers in constant motion proves difficult to do. before i can get a number it’s over. her hands return to her side. a new pattern in and of itself.
i can feel the goosebumps returning.

9/4/12 6:42pm

piss shy

a giant shaft of a penis is spread across
a universal landscape.
there are more than a couple male faces
making various exaggerated expressions.
laughter, awe, shock, & anger all make an
appearance.
their physical appearance is of baroque-era
conductors.

all of their eyes seem to be drawn into the
orbital direction of the phallic behemoth.
the flesh cannon is aimed in a direction
opposite their faces.
they are at the very least out of harms way
for both their & the shafts sake.
there is a wine cork stuffed into the urethra.

the first male is holding his eyeballs in his
hands as if they were binoculars with a
furrowed brow & tight lips.
the second male is in awe while he uses his
ears like a pulley to support the cork that’s
now in place.
a third male laughs hysterically while his eye
balls swing a hammer toward the cork to plug
what little drops escape past the dam.

9/1/12 10:45pm

i digress

sometimes it’s weird for me to think that I’m staring out of
the control station of my body.
able to man & move all of these parts just by thinking it.
i don’t even have to hire someone to do it.
just a natural energy that works as a fuel.
what’s weird is that i can’t tell the difference between thinking
about doing something and actually doing it.
i’m sitting here thinking, “move your pinky”, but i don’t move it.
but if i want to move my pinky i can move it.
when i do in fact move my pinky it doesn’t feel like I am even thinking
it before it’s done, but! i know that it has to be run by my brain before
the action is carried out.
the more i think into this theory i realize that there is actually a short
window of time where i think about “moving my pinky” before i actually
do it.
even as i sit here my face itches and i scratched it without thinking.
just an automatic response to a feeling.
now that i’ve pointed that out i am “consulting myself” before scratching
my face.
i think i prefer the automatic response to this.
i’ve come to the realization that we need “automatic” otherwise you will
have no room in your mind for thought.
these actions aren’t in need of questioning or consideration.
just response.
not to mention i have the “bugs crawling on my skin” effect in full motion
from all this talk of itching.
i think this overthinking of response actions can cripple people.
not always, but a lot of times i will overthink them in social situations.
basically, “maybe i should hold my arm this way while sitting here”
or “I should cross my leg as this girl approaches me with my order”.
treating my own body language and naturalities as an accessory.
as if i was sifting through my closet second guessing outfit choices.
i don’t think ones’s life should be spent any second longer than nessecary
thinking of these things.
maybe i’m totally wrong, but it feels like i’ve convinced myself that this is
just some heightened sense of introversion.
to be used at my disposal like some kind of sick gift.
playing on a seesaw of whether or not it’s worth getting rid of the thing that
might break me while lighting my way.
i don’t know what to make of all this.
truthfully i don’t even remember what started to finish here.
i remember the itching part at least because I’m still scratching.
maybe i’m finished because i just remembered..truthfully i forgot once again
while writing that sentence.
i’m not sure if this would be sad or amusing to someone reading.
alarming to those who know me or maybe it comes as no surprise.
i know there is a world outside of my mind that i’ve yet to take in.
when i try to observe this world i just want to be back in my head though.
i’ve been sitting on a bench outside an ice cream parlor for maybe the past twenty
minutes.
i might as well have been in a deep state of sleep.
i could barely recall, but a few details that have transpired. the dog barking from a
direction i could not make out is about it.
i’m distracted while writing this.
a group of girls have now taken a place on a bench to the left of me.
as plain jane, what’s her face, & john doe’s sister sit beside me i feel the social
anxieties coming on.
my hair now parted perfectly.
strategically picking my spots for when i touch my greasy; pomade infested top.
so not to seem like the vain tool that i actually am.
a perfect example on display for all.
touching the toothpick in my mouth with a hand so mannered.
is that attractive?
their faces are only peripheral vision blurs as are their words that i tune out to
write this.
i sit and pose for them when i have not the slightest idea of whether they’d be
worth knowing.
they have long since walked away.
they threw away not empty dessert cups and spoke about it.
naturally i cross my right leg over my left, scratch my left eye, and straighten my back.
only to naturally slip into my seat and hunch over as i sit here.
i need to piss.
the guy who works at the place told me the bathroom was closed.
in an effort to not appear like a normal person who just had to piss i asked if they were
still serving drinks.
juggling my words i ordered an iced tea i don’t want.
his good cop alter ego tells me “she might be almost done cleaning if you need
to use the restroom”
i pay for my glass of principal. don’t tip. don’t piss. there is a full ice tea
floating in the trash outside.