Blockade

Dream Safe.

Late at night when I'm making the commute from that street to mine and I'm coming up on the turn that leads to your house; I have to keep looking at the red light so my hands won't turn the wheel into your driveway.

I want to walk through your back door and down the stairs to your bed where I can just lay.

What keeps me from doing so is the thought that you may not be spending your nights there.

Flux

There is no reason.
Just black grass,
too much alcohol,
reality,
and my favorite songs that keep on repeat.


[Don't think]


Thank you for the advice.


I'm starting to get it now.

Fireworks

I love being with dysfunctional couples. Couples that aren't even couples because they know it wouldn't work, couldn't work, would never work, but they still keep coming back to each other like they're being pulled by magnets or some undiscovered gravity. 

I like to watch them walk around each other as if what they have is a dark secret shared only between the two of them. A passion so intense they can't show anyone else. Something blinding. 

They fight. They're mean, ruthless. Words that roll out of them like razor blades. I can see their mouths sore and wet. I can smell iron. 

I love their company. I love the fireworks.

The austerity. The arrogance. 

I love it's not us. 

The Novice

He began by breaking down pen spinning, telling me even the spaces in between fingers have names. I was more interested when I believed he was psychokinetic, but I kept listening to him explain the finger slot system because his tone was one I’d let guide me out of body.

He looked like a worn ghost story, one with the backbone to withstand generations just so I could hear its entirety. He described the Shadow and Inverse Shadow while my eyes trailed into the dusk of his sleeves. How many undiscovered caves are there due to a lack of decent roads?

He told me “Mostly everything is abbreviated and punctuated.” I felt like asking what he did with the time saved, but instead I pried

“Why?”

He quoted Carl Sagan and suddenly I was craving 
carameled apples. Arachibutyrophobia, I cringed. 
“You’re pretty when you make that face.” He admitted, 
his stain-glass irises never looking at the white
 pen that promenaded around his fingers.

2,629,743.83 seconds

Feeling brave.

So fucking brave.

Ninety Nights

Let me tell you about last night.
    In the concert hall, I sat front and center. Several times I had to turn around toward the audience members and scream "Fuck You." When the lights went dim I stood and became face to face with a drug dealer who's always expressing how badly he wants to fuck me. He mouthed "Come on."
    So I kissed him. Hard. Because I had something to prove and this was the only way I could get the point across. And the audience went quiet. When we parted lips I saw you in the back, stand up and head toward the exit. I thought, I bet I could get there first.
    Outside the concert hall you hit me. Hard. Because I had nothing to prove. And this was the only way you could get me to stay quiet. When you began to part the scene, I pulled a cigarette from my back pocket. You told me "I'm running out of patience Sunnie." I thought, I bet I could get there first.

Nothing is more repulsive than a furtively prurient spirituality; it is just as unsavory as gross sensuality.

                            -Carl Jung