Thursday, January 31, 2013

Auto-Capgras


It’s midnight on the Internet
I’m trying to decide whether or not to reblog
A portrait of Rick Santorum made completely out of gay porn.
Tonight is rainy, and full of deadlines.
So much is unsettled and Huey P. Lewis is sitting
in a chair in the middle of a dark theater housed within the walls of my cranium.
He is telling me about feeding children.
Feeding children threatens the FBI.
And how can you infiltrate a community you were born into?
Can you infiltrate your own identity?
How can I manage to feel like an imposter to my own life?
I have Capgras syndrome TOWARDS MYSELF!
Paranoia speaks:
Something is not right here.
Something does not belong.
Paranoia speaks:
I am not right and I do not belong!
The evidence stacks up:
Where do I get off
Pretending to be successful and organized and hardworking and happy?!
Where do I get off
Going to a respectable women’s liberal arts college and joyfully learning something?!
Where do I get off
Getting pregnant at age fourteen and getting sent to reform school and not turning out to be an abject failure?!
I have not earned this!
This is not my life!
I am a washed up, wanna-be poet, rebelling for the sake of rebelling.
I am a nomadic alternative rage machine!
My life has gone through puberty without taking my mental altimeter with it.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

A Room With a View


He doesn’t know how to love
An intergalactic portal sounds the way my laptop does
When I sit in front of it for hours doing nothing
Except wasting precious time and
Watching a room with a view.
I don’t know how to love
Hands that smell like cupcakes and bleach that
Causes a dryness so porous that they provide evidence
For wherever they should not have been.
If we knew how to love
Would we be doing whatever it is we are doing?
We are doing life, or some semblance thereof
And we are doing each other, occasionally.
I legitimize our arguments by
Labeling them as learning experiences
That shape . . .
Something.
If there is a secret box in my head full
Of things I do not tell you, it would only be sensible
That you would know before I do. I have not noticed
A box yet but I will let you know when
I do.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Internet. 2 AM.


What kind of person keeps that many tabs open on their browser

A lazy person

A mac person

No more questions
No more requests

Facts come from knowledge comes from experiencing
It hurts a bit
To know exactly what will fail but
Not when

Occasionally the tabs cause the browser to crash and
They all reload themselves
Some for the first time in months

There are uncooked braised short ribs
Web comics
Thinkgeek and facebook

They wait for attention
Everyone waits for attention

Late night scavenger hunts
For items thrown away years ago
Bad fanfiction that does little else than
Stab a person’s inner grammar instructor
In the spleen

It gets lonely here waiting

I am not depressed.
Occasionally it worms its way in between the pulses of a migraine
White hot pain lightheaded floating and sinking into my chair too heavy to move how do you describe this AAAAUGGGGGHHHHH.
Stuck. It feels stuck.
No forward no backward and I do not want to be in between
No end, either.
Lulls
Droughts
Happiness comes in droughts
Peace comes in droughts
When is it not parched and cracked and drained of an engorging agent.
Salvation is only found in soaking oneself. 

Friday, January 25, 2013

good night


These nights keep me up
All cold wind and crickets
Wanting to be somewhere else
Not wanting to put on the pants required to get there
I tried calling comfort
After another sleep cut short
The line rang a few times
A raccoon disturbed the stones underneath my window
Almost distracting me from the canned voice demanding I leave some reason
for disturbing it this late
Sorry
I didn’t realize
But I was feeling anxious
Good night

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Togetherness


"We try so hard in our lives to keep control over our body, and control over individual selves, that the idea of just having everybody in a big pile is kind of strangely appealing," 

through cloudy eyes
reflections of light pick up
nothing
ears that suffered
constant assault
at the hands of urbanization
cease to translate vibrations into cognition
a tired heart
lays relaxed and empty

right hand touching left leg touching genitals touching ears touching noses touching upper shoulder touching clean bone touching oozing intestines touching

togetherness

Monday, January 21, 2013

I wish I were as cold as stone


I wish I were cold as stone
That my mind would not decay along with my grey matter
That the feeling of you holding me
Could not permeate my blood-brain barrier
I wish that over time I would dissolve into grains of sand
Waves beating over and over
Taking a tiny piece of me every time
Until nothing is left whole
Not even the sound of you breathing in your sleep