cryptic

you woke me well after midnight

to complain that you weren’t awake

 

i fed the curtains to the bedroom window

while whispering, “oh for heaven’s sake”

 

i watched you flit about

like curtains at an open window

mimicking a midnight breeze

 

i found the formula that fabricated

the furthest star

while you looked over my shoulder and sneezed

 

band aids don’t heal or make you whole

yet you put them on everything

kiss the skin and enter in

to all that i believe

 

we were making out at an abandoned train station

when the ghost of the last employee

walked up with a pocket watch and a lantern

and said, “move along, the trains don’t stop here no more”

 

so we found a bed in suburbia

time clocks to punch

a place to have sunday brunch

 

and the passion that was haunted by chiding ghosts

haunts these hallways without finding a body to inhabit

 

and i find myself drawn to pictures of train stations

and memories that i’ve memorized into a definition

that no longer defines

while you encapsulate another collection of photographs

as if a scrapbook can really just be a hobby

 

and i lobbied at the lining of existence

that happiness would be defined

as a day off from work

where chores you shirk

just to squeeze new memories

out of the long discarded rinds

 

and sometimes you actually do

but you only prove

that all the clues are right before your eyes

convicting the day to day that we play

without a heart fashioned from clay

but from stone

or decomposing bone

 

and you think

before it’s too late

i should recreate fate

and find the fashion i want to wear

that which truly fits me

 

but one cannot live on popcorn

that falls on the floor of the circus

or can they?

 

do you call this living?

discovering your kiss

was all the bliss

 

but now the kiss has to be sustained

among the pain of trying to carry

all the casualties that came

when we slaughtered our innocence

preened ourselves with pretense

for…

you know what?

i don’t know what for

we just did

like every other kid

 

and now the ghosts no longer tell us to move along

because we are already there

 

***

 

 

 

i miss you

have you ever had an emotion

you redefined into a definition

of nonexistence?

 

you live as if the most important thing to you

doesn’t exist

doesn’t matter

 

everyone expects

an exact

 

so you act

spurning your nomination

your character creation

just got you more parts

 

and this rollercoaster ride

makes you hide

inside

a bottle your tried

and that bottle

and that one too

 

and when you are finally allowed one moment

off stage

the focus finally not on you

for just one moment

 

you arrive at the truth

the surprise ending

and the hidden meaning in the plot

and whisper while no one is watching,

“i miss you”

 

***

the miracle of multicellular organisms

it’s raining

they say l.a. needs it

but los angeles doesn’t know what it needs

 

anyway

that’s the end of my sociology lesson

i’m drunk, wet, walking around

smoking a cigarette

 

this all seems so familiar

 

and i’m not interested in societal reflections

or the manner in which physics destroyed

the best versions of reality

 

i’m just having fun

the rain put out my cigarette

so i find an overhang

and light another one

 

carefree

alcohol in me

watching everyone flee the falling rain

like it is the final judgment of god

 

before i went for “a walk”

jenny was on top

her swollen pregnant belly

looked like it was ready to pop

 

when she was done with me

she told me to make her a banana split

before she called the cops

 

i filled the biggest bowl we had

with all the ingredients

then slipped into the rain

the only degenerate

who knows the water will

never wash him clean

 

i unscrew my flask

white whiskey

sip and make a face

take another

then return to the rain

 

i think about writing another novel

then think that was what

the dark streets of decay was

a novel

each poem/vignette was a chapter

and this is its sequel

 

i stop at the realization

retrieve my flask from my jacket

unscrew the top

quote adam duritz,

“I wasn’t made for this scene baby

But I was made in this scene”

 

touch the tip of the flask to my lips

and let its entire contents

set me on fire

amid the rain’s impotency

to put out the flames

 

and you know what?

i just don’t care

there is no underlying thought

that one day i will stop

 

i continue walking

the end of this poem i am stalking

looking for that perfect line

that perfect rhyme

that will finally complete

me

 

but all i see is my reflection

in the store front windows

soaked

out of smokes

flask empty

 

and the only completion

will be a liquor store

where i can buy more

 

i guess if the devil can hide in plain sight

then why can’t i spend the night

drunk, wet, walking around

smoking a cigarette

 

los angeles, i can wager a bet

i am someone you will forget

but tonight i am a blood cell

coursing through your veins

 

***

 

 

screaming at the indifferent wind

it howls around my head

it howls around my hunger

drowning the sounds of my screams

that suffering has not made me stronger

 

dreams are our downfall

harbinger in a house of hope

who taught us to dream?

it’s usually not our parents

 

but is it worse to accept that which surrounds?

where the wind blows so hard

you can’t hear any other sound

i now understand why atlas shrugged

 

but it wasn’t a solution

so i don’t know

i’m sysiphus with a stone

and here i go with another day

 

dreaming, no wishing, there wasn’t a hill

curtailing consciousness with swill

if water finds its own level

i’ve evaporated

 

but do i have the kinetic energy

to overcome liquid-phase intermolecular forces?

after the replenishing rain

even clouds dissipate

 

the wind doesn’t care what it blows away

it is an unconscious current of air

but it is still powerful enough

to clear the landscape of your dreams

 

***

there is no reason

i don’t understand those who surround

and the sound

their vocal chords make

 

something didn’t go according to plan

and because you didn’t get your way

you rationalize by a concurrent event

 

this happened to keep something worse from occurring

endure with contentment

is an acknowledgement

submission to benevolence

ain’t i wise and worthy?

 

such a statement

requires a presupposition

that not only is there god

but it has my best interest in mind

 

there is no evidence in kind

things just happen

or they don’t

there is no reason why

beyond the reason you tried

 

and even that reason is laden

with a layer of perceptual lies

 

just quit talking to me

as if i am someone who could ever believe

in anything more than a nucleus at the core

and we can co-exist

 

you don’t have to stop believing

truth or deceiving?

these are things to me that are a non-issue

just quit talking to me

 

***