ear to ear smiles and limbs laid out for miles, a sunny sunny sting laughter killed the winter and now it’s spring. think to yourself “I have these moments. I have these moments. It’s enough.” children’s play and the process of forgetting the world for a moment.
it’s frigid out. mornings, evenings, and nights and twilights. we spend too much time in bed. a small knotted mattress pushed in the corner, next to the window.(to smoke away the sleeplessness?) and then we fall asleep in our bed that is littered with books, pens, lighters, cats and cookie crumbs. books about death, and brilliant people, and bad people, and weak needy people. the stories serve as a substitution for our own preoccupations. living too long in a house that isn’t yours, borrowed beds and sorrowed heads. people are never the same age from one day to the next. I waver between the doe eyes of my six year old self, afraid, wide and faraway and the empty, worn unfocused eyes of a soul seeking a still phantasmagoric scene of the frequencies animals listen to. black and white absolutisms are so comprehensible. feeling everything and feeling nothing.
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you know your cigarette habits taken a toll when the stream of hot water lifts the scent off your skin and the shower smells as if your bathing in smoke rather than soap. need to find more work, to wash away this slur of time-warp uselessness and perpetual unoccupation. went to the city today, we ran out of gas twelve miles from home, and we sat in the back wrapped in musty wool blankets, chain smoking and waiting, the freeway traffic rocking the car gently like sea motion. Air sea travel. my hair has a mind of its own, and i feel somewhat indecent being around others with such a suggestive mop of hair. do you remember the first time you realized you were in love? its unfamiliar and intangible as fuck, words fail for this one and maybe, probably that’s the whole point.
We had a picnic in the middle of the baseball field by the freeway. And you know how freeways fascinate me, how impersonal and alluring are the bodies inside the cars being thrown in opposite directions; all going Somewhere. Somewhere along the way I started to believe you knew everything without me having to say it, i suppose since i began talking my thoughts at you some months ago. I’d like to think that you listen and remember, these thoughts of mine. for where are our thoughts to live? in writing? in type? in my memory? in yours? all of which is ephemeral. Again i hallucinated the molecules of shimmering oxygen dance against the sky, same happens with the particles of water in the shower as they hit the bathtub and shatter and sparkle into a million little pieces. taunting me with their pseudo existence, i ask if you see them too, but you don’t. i suspect it is because of the leftovers of LSD in my nervous system, although i haven’t taken any in almost a year. I’ve been staying up late, learning and thinking, and dark circles have made their home beneath my big brown eyes. although it’s always been my thought that dark circles look attractive on a face, in some lovely strung out sort of way. Think of Angelina Jolie in girl interrupted, a scary deranged beauty. “Wow”. “Hm?”.”What a wonderful beautiful world.”, you say to me, your neck craned taking in the sky, the fucking vibrance of that february sky at 5:43pm. the expanse littered with a shrill chorus of black silhouettes battling at the air, and me hallucinating sparkles on top of it all, because frankly i used to use drugs heavily.
i think my hungry eyes are catching.
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Talking about time, fractals and alternate universes. I know you believe in alternate universes, you told me so yourself. we drove to the beach, ignoring the directions i scribbled out for us, but that’s fine cause if you drive a certain direction for long enough it always leads to the shore. I ask you if Kansas is as pretty as California, but I already knew the answer. Its all mustard fields, black cows, and cigarette smoke wind falling roughly through our curly mops of hair and cycling in and out of your janky car, which is also your home. I throw a glass bottle out the moving car, and you laugh. we pull off on the side of a cliff that drops off into the Northern California coastline. Down in the sand peeling off my tights and socks so I can feel the sand. Your filming everything: beach, girl, sun, sand, and it only adds to this shitty habit of imagining the present as it’s happening in these bittersweet shades of nostalgic past-tense. its funny no matter how subtle a person tries to be with words or actions, their eyes will still be leaking- no pouring the colors of their emotional realities.
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sadness of mirrors, sadness of too-good-to-be-true happiness, sadness of loss, sadness of disease, sadness of insomnia, sadness of sadness, sadness of being looked at, no really looked at, sadness of drunks, sadness of nightmares, sadness of the elderly, sadness of missing someone who isn’t gone yet, sadness of goodbyes, sadness of piano, sadness of unrequited loves, sadness of cold cities, sadness of jealousy, sadness of landfills, sadness of genocide, sadness of dying species, sadness of bodies, sadness of someone finally listening to you, sadness of not dancing, sadness of food, sadness of growing up too quickly and not entirely, sadness of loosing a father, sadness of not having one to begin with, sadness of waking up at night alone, sadness of the person you love fucking some whore, sadness of eyes, sadness of northern California foggy mornings, sadness of fucking up, sadness of saying shit I didn’t mean under the influence of alcohol, sadness of sleeping away a lovely day, sadness of the end of summer
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hanging onto words that never existed and many photos remind me of spaces and repeated movements. wooden bodied instruments like portraits of dead relatives watching in the stairwell. acknowledge your naturally improving flaws, the ones that would be considered attributes or callings if they didn’t negatively affect some being in some way. although the core energy beneath a craved shortcoming will burn all the same, we may radiate the warmth and light in a way that it illuminates and comforts rather than going around burning people simply because we’re capable of doing it with such ease and cleanliness. hunger can make your mind grow and your body wither. poor body image is for lazy eyes, if you turn off your mind and abandon your body as a means of self; for a moment you may capture that which others see in you. take in the hollows and hills of breast and bone as a landscape- existing in perpetual organic absolutism, a reflection of conditions and biology previously beyond our comprehension. make certain you have thought it all out from every direction in the room, always walk a bit down each road. and tell the foot traffic of the road, not the destination.(seeing as destinations mirror the sights, thoughts and sounds leading up to them) Think a lot of stuff and feed it to their minds, but choose what you believe;insanity for those inclined.
Sleep too long, and then drag your feet into the bathroom. slide the over sized mens dress shirt over your head and step into the scalding stream, wash off dried sweat, spit and ▼um from your skin. forget to brush your teeth and then slip your repulsively feminine body into the yellow silk robe hanging on the back of the door. make yourself a phat pot of tea and sit at the kitchen table, while everyone else is at work and write another apathetic run-on. concern yourself only with sex, substance, image, art and the end of the world, careful not to let your thoughts slip towards this lousy state of limbo.
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my mattress was on the floor, by the window with the dead butterflies in the sill. the sheets were white of course, and smelled like bleach and summer skin. the sliding glass door out to the garden would have been wide open, the neighbors windchimes guilt tripping me to get up, eat, put on clothes
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But I wanna run around in wheat feilds and catch lightening bugs in mason jars with you, cause your the one who taught me what a mason jar even fucking is!
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When the fog came in and the trees said their ‘hellos’, the lies that leap between your technicolor teeth turned to song. and those real teeth that talk false words, you won’t get far as a caged bird. I’d like to hide underneath your eyelids,
cause the clouds are just like dirt, hiding dead people.
And when you would fall asleep, your dreams would play out
on the whites of your eyes; and I’d watch like in the picture shows.
Only, I’m afraid I weigh too much, and I’d make your eyelids heavy;
and then you might never wake up.
You fell asleep in your clothes again, and dirty feet. Flowers edging, a feeling that if she could count the flowers, everything would be alright. It is because of our atmosphere that were care for all the wrong people, the night-time raindrops seemed to be wondering this too. he wore his listening look, but the blue green of his eyes was all swallowed up in black. But the street lamps were the only light keeping streets and street strangers from turning to shadow; so she couldn’t be sure. ” Oh, why must you look at so many unpleasant things, when there are so many pleasant ones to see.” was it his words that hinted with carelessness, or my ears? took the hand in hers, saying something not in words. a nagging need to be needed that wanted to eat and digest her. but it was like a sunbeam, only warm for a few hours, and when you stand too close too long, gets to burning. children can’t manage here.
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When I was little I played with dolls all day, tucked soundlessly in a corner of a room i fit myself into small spaces and watched my parents live, do important non important things. oh, but wither away your worry, if you stay I’ll tell a story. the mirrors say its up to me, lost my mind while out at sea. 5 things I like most, in this moment. 1. the sky; nighttime. all the stars, the moon, clouds, and overall feeling of insignificance that comes crashing down on my little body, neck arched smiling at the sky. 2.) Thinking, learning, and listening 3. people who aren’t afraid of getting hurt. the ability to take the bad stuff and turn it into all the more reason to feel, see and say everything that matters and doesn’t matter as if it was the last sight, thought, or word you had left. 4. sleeping, dreaming. Escapism. the feel of sheets on bare skin, sharing a bed with someone, and the way pillows are always cold underneath.waking up outside. 5. blue eyes
restlessness
