caught in moments,
arches of our lives intertwining and declining
sine and cosine-ing until we come to a
point on our plane
shared around a table, one reality
my mind to your mind to my mind to our mind
to this conscious existence
we think therefore we are
together, now
now how and what and where and why
as we sit here side by side
my/our memory                                                           ­                                         
caught
in
faces/features

Catch yourself wandering though memories
Shades of maroon and purple panging and banging demanding commanding your gut and your dreams at night

Burn it
ashes/ashes                                                            ­                                                  
the moment unpronounced
a blessing and a curse
bouncing in and around your mothers regrets- ashes
reminding you that there are some things you’ll never know
some things you’ll never forget
lips parted and toenails painted
a whole life
one’s existence unmarked by your
conscious/subconscious                                                                ­                        
Vacations and children and mortgages and dreams and ashes
late nights on phones calling long distance to
men/women/lovers/friends                                                          ­                      
and people you’ll never meet
people you’ll never speak to

Heartbreak is an abandonment of trust
a mouthful of ash
but it’s only the first step in forgetting a life
and leaving the dream
leaving the castle crumbling real fast
the castle built but past
satisfied with the obliteration of
one name/one face/one forgotten                                                        ­                
at last

how come my projection is ignored
your eyes, like high beams, flash over my existence
scattering my photons/my waves                                                            ­         
in exchange for your bright/white                                                            ­                                             clean/canvas                                                           ­                                             
you wander through these halls flitting from picture to picture to picture
fitting yourself to each
scene and visual style
discarding the ones irrelevant/inconsequential                                                  ­
like me, tossed aside
connections- but how deep
what soil does your friendship take root in?
in experiences/morals/ideologies/pasts                                                            ­  
or is it simply a necessity
a validation
that you exist
but why don’t i fit into your
equation/picture/life?                                                            ­                              
You want to laugh and I want to hear you
i don’t get it
i wish i did
you look at me and you look at you and you look at the boy standing there
and somehow you laugh at his smile
you talk with his persona
you walk with his saunter
and here i am passing the other way, looking/writing down                          
your validation
in these words i will capture your
reality/aura/matter/existence                                                        ­                      
so that you won’t be forgotten
like his smile/persona/saunter                                                          ­                  

and my projection/                                                                 ­                           
photons/                                                                 ­                           
waves/                                                                 ­                           
equation/                                                                 ­                           
picture/                                                                 ­                           
life?/                                                                 ­                           
reailty/                                                                 ­                           
aura/                                                                 ­                           
matter/                                                                 ­                           
existence/                                                                 ­                           

is anybody out there writing
for me?

how morbid a thought
caught in the kitchen sink/in the tiles/in the spotlights
illuminating my memory-
a human/a female/a mother
my mother standing with
a feline/a female/a pet
my pet sitting with intrigue
how common a scene
as if there were food coming or a treat
but today/tonight
only contentedness
and me observing such a human flash in the pan
how odd- at 18 to realize
all things come to an end
hate/happiness/loneliness/sadness/love/life
first the cat then the mom then me…
or that’s the supposed natural order of things
am i bitter? i accept
am i naive? i understand
it has to be this way there is no other way any other way
my mother is more than 3 times my age
the cat more than 3 times younger
we will all live an impossibly long life
in dog years

it’s all just a matter of re-******* and re-******* and re-*******
my head back in place
everytime they walk by
no distractions no distractions
follow the straight and narrow--
yes, we follow the straight and narrow,
the girls wrapped with the tight
elastics and see through tops
the powdered faces and porcelain bodies that
seem to go on and on and on
but it’s all just a matter of looking ahead
keeping your head on straight
no distractions no distractions
even as the mascara flickers on their eyelashes
like black fireworks on a white sky
even as they float by stealing time
with their hourglass figures and ancient eyes
but no
not this time
nodistratctions nodistractions nodistractions
it happens everytime they talk or sigh and especially
when they say goodbye
but to hell with all these silly teenage girls
and their platinum-blonde/midnight-black/chestnut-brown/blood-red
personalities-- stuck in the wrong realities
constantly throwing themselves
against the walls walls walls
cutting their fingertips on the sharp edged boys they clutch at
until they bleed bleed bleed
wondering why no one ever hears their
desperate tears tears tears
looking to boys like me to catch them
when they fall fall fall
but it’s just a matter of turning away--
re-******* and re-******* and re-*******
my head back in place

And here I thought I’d
Buried you
                    More than six feet under
My skin
       Where you could never
Play tricks
                    On my eyes
Again

But the reality is
You are standing

Here,

In front of me,
Taunting me
With your smirk

All I have in my defense are these words
Words that slip from my hands,
Through my fingers like water
Pouring out of my mouth
From my pen
Onto this page

And here I thought I’d fixed that leak
Months ago
After I’d washed your smile from my
Mind’s eye
And cleansed myself of
Naïve passion
      I stood in silence–
Alone

But the reality is
You are staring

Now,

Right at me,
Taunting me
With your eyes

And I am afraid of what might have been
If we might have been…
But that dream of mine
Should have died
With my ink
When it dried

And here I thought it was a dream
Long forgotten
Shattered into two
Separate lives
You running in the
Opposite direction
   And me, turning
Away

But the reality is
You are standing

Here,

In front of me,
Taunting me
With your sweet
And inviting
Laugh