The people congregate to talk about the things they don’t know much about, but want to seem like they do. The people stand in circles counting pieces of bubble gum by pairs of shoes. The people are grouped into discrete anger classes, within which they raise their concerns. The people light matches, flick them into community parks, and watch them while they burn. The people are texting the people on their phones while the people around them are texting the people on their phones and the people on the phones are answering the people who texted the people on their phones. The people forget how good it feels to be in a public place and completely alone. The people practice facial expressions proving happiness, sadness, anger, surprise, and indifference in a mirror after a hot shower. The people vote the people into office with individual misinterpretations of what it should mean to be in power. The people cleanse their sins by pointing out the sins of others; the people point out fatal flaws. The people think about crashing cars into 10,000 different monuments, each representing a no longer supported cause. The people don’t have to listen to reason; the people don’t have to believe. The people have the right to chatter, the right to bicker, and the right to be deceived. The people watch their televisions to learn how to behave. Some people learn when it’s too late and take their lessons to their graves.

a day

The days we live are quite average,
on average,
our lives are average too.

The yesterdays todays tomorrows:
all similar.
The difference: a slight skew.

A waste of one:
A push to a next:
Another attempt to start.

We live the same day
after day after day:
it’s the only one that’s ours.

extrapolated from

Twisted turned fallen
to a single side
clearing cluttered air
to be apparent
in n weeks’ time

we run around in circles
run through scattered thoughts in heads
we run around in circles
always ending in your bed

where it’s pieced together
on your floor
where we’re pieced together too
side by side
on single sides
the concentric shapes

of bodies entwined

red herring

I’ll keep spinning, loosing meaning. You hold your breath, but keep on breathing. Close the blinds, try disappearing, leave a silhouetted arabesque behind closed doors. If we put in nonsense we get out nonsense if we get out nonsense: let’s make some more, and the saints are swinging sagaciously by nooses tied to rafters tiptoes grazing over floors. Hallucinogens are ebbing waving: hand motion trails to say hello. Skin that glistens outdoor sunlight: an inappropriate afterglow. You said I said you said I do. I said you said something declared.  We converse in written dialogue of somethings neither here nor there. Where are we? We’re right here: a catatonic state of antimatter. Where are we? Right where we began. Now let’s coordinate patterned blood splatter. Drip drip drop: a darkened puddle. Clip clip clop: horseshoes in mud. I wrote the end in present tense, the answer: none of the above.


distance growing
borders blurring
just crumpled up
broke promises

words dissolving
melt to nothings
on beaten broken
bitten tongues

binding comments
form cement
and the effects
were not yet studied

counted causes
seem worthwhile
but wasted gains
seem more important

the decisions made
in present sense
speak volumes to
naive hindsight’s ignorance

measuring time

It started in slow motion, so I guess I thought I had more time. I am digging myself deeper as I force the pushing pause.

A proposal: let’s count the ways in which we measure time, not the seconds where they’re frozen. The stacking empty bottles might not be best, since their rate of accumulation is a calculated constant flux. But the sky is useless too: it’s always sunny from my bed. A step outside for clarity, a misty shaded other mess.

An experiment: I’ll tie a string around my finger with a weight tied to the other end, which I’ll drag behind me until we come back where we begin. To encircle so much nothing when we were trying to measure time, you could talk about the forward motion while I backtrack reaching for rewind.

This will never last. I’ll just go back to counting seconds as the clock ticks one by one, and turn one single day into 86,400 individual acts of indecision.

a future-signed confession

Yesterday, I looked outside to see how I felt. The sky was white with indifference so I waited until today I’ll put off until tomorrow. The same sky overhead sums to somenothings, and it wasn’t that clever it’s never that clever it’s a distraction and it stopped possibly never started working, but it bought some time already bought some time already wasted our time I am wasting your time. Our time. The bottleneck doesn’t know what choking feels like doesn’t know what patience requires doesn’t see the full picture isn’t looking listening doesn’t give a fuck. I brought this up. I passed this off. The guilt, the blame, a penance. I brought this up I passed this off, but the bottleneck is better at finger-point diffusion. I am better at saying ‘because’ when I need to finally respond. This is because because because I am better at passing blame. This is because I am a trash person and my priorities are measured fair in skewing centigrade. But that’s neither here nor there this is only here not there this is only being said here.

Today, I looked inside to see how just how I fell. My mind is blank with answers it’s not filled with my own questions but it’s filled with the indecision as I’m inching toward having to choose a more active voice. Meanwhile I am working on digging graves with recycled situations. That’s how I justly fell. No melted wings, just empty bottle split decisions just empty simple thinking. I am breaking bottles I am building a mosaic, and it is broken window beautiful the jagged shape of shattered hopes. How do you end up with nothing you always wanted? Well you say what you want and do whateverything else you want as well. That wasn’t clever either I’m just using my breath to suck air through straws.

An apology is worth nothing today: there is no clever way to say I am choosing to do something that is perhaps perceived a wrong. Happiness is slippery, and sadness is a certainty, and here lies blissful ignorance I ignored him till death-parted. I point out too much to pretend I don’t know what I know you’re going to mean when you say it.  I have my responses all worked out they’re see-through though you’ll see right through them, and they’re not that clever anyhow. I’ll just wear the black hat regardless of its future fit, and a cloak of indifference made up of ill-placed patchwork wit. 

I could let go at any time, but I am watching the ball drop I’m watching the countdown. I could let go at any time, but I don’t like to be the one who flips the one-way switch. I can’t hold on at anytime I could hold on right now. But I’m too busy counting choices as they prepare to shatter on the concrete ground.