Next me is a wall
or rather a semi wall
for alluding to an imaginary pathway that guides
or rather
divides people who want to study in the casual study room versus the quiet area.

There is a circular hole in this black wall next to me
and past the black paint, I can see the particle board
that makes up this wall. Then past this particle board
there is space- nothing, a power supply to the outlets built in that I am using now , a camera maybe, cables to the tv on the other side of this semi-wall.

Next to that are my 2 wall chargers that charging my computer
and my phone. And of course my phone, computer
but also, Casio watch and two band-aids- barely visible on the white table background.

Before me
is my laptop
not you,
but my laptop.

next me is my water bottle
metal
a used paper towel
moist
hand cream
closed,

three books

my headphones

next to me is an empty seat
and you are not in it.

but you are not even so specific
as these objects,

you are vague and elusive

you are always leaving
whoever I think you might be

once
maybe right here even
opposite where I sit now
we sat together
and tried to study and couldn't
I gripped your thigh tightly  
and desire for you
and an assertion of your presence
and my true love for you
flowed through me
so legibly

and now the spirit of love
has left that person
and passed through so many others
who are also
not
here
now

Right now
sitting in a Library
and a phone was ringing about 5 minutes ago

no wait,

Right now
i can hear me typing

while I type

I am not going back and editing the words I write
so no repeating
thud thud thud
of the delete button.

I said the phone rang before
for it was its almost comical or theatrical
but let me distinguish, NOT its dramatic effect
in which
I placed the carelessness of a vague email I had just received.

Let me correct, Facebook message
that I received.

A friend, who I had fallen out with
suggesting we reconnect as holding a grudge was

-and again that same ring - this time from the help desk in front of me
rather than the security desk behind me rang.-

was unnecessary.

With all the ringing phones- timid conversation- and typing- with my academic books right next to me- among going through emails- with plans to go home later tonight and make dinner- feeling like everything is flowing so calmly in this library- I would not need to take him up on his offer.

And this seemed to make sense
whether it made me a *******
and my lingering desire to stay
lonely makes more sense to me
than trying to keep really unfrie-
ndly 'friends' around- or desper-
ately trying to cling to whatever
friends I can.

Perhaps I am ******* either
way, depending on how you look
at it.
But right now I not feeling any more pain
than in my left index finger nail
where I have cut it too short.

Coffee makes you ****.
Even if you just had a ****- if you drink coffee,
you will **** again.

its like some weird impulse,
like pavlova dogs and the bell.

I wonder,
while taking a ****, though not having had a coffee today,
if we were somehow enslaved by some previous higher society
of mass corporation
that made us drink coffee and **** when we had it,
as some survival method no doubt.

A pseudo safe
Gave the ayes
It's not the grave;
The why's.

The steel bedframe you helped me pick
Is so cold
and Now you sit
In the cafe we used to
And we'd argue the most complex things about whether we'd work or not
And that time is long since gone
Facing away from the street
You have your next man cornered
So he maybe gets his stuff together better than me
While you inquire
And offer him the world

Fight in the office
But it's still a box
Thought you were an island
But you were just a rock
A Strange shape sure
but silent though nothing's wrong

Isolated from The legend
And you don't belong
;Something still sounds off
With the way you cough

I mean we both know your lungs aren't so pure
And your teeth are too long
But since it's out of fashion
To withhold the cure
Stupidly, So is it To be strong

A maze with no walls
They move too
But sometimes stop

Sometimes,
I want to be beaten
in a sleeping
bag
feel the bruises full of pulp bloat
then drag

I can see this dark figure
sometimes
full of blues
and its pretty bad

Found it in between my eyes one night gloating
but not glad
I find too often Im cross
when I've gone too far and said it all

I wanted to say that there was some sort of filter
but no sooner would I wilt
than share every secret
though more so spill

Did you know that coffee grounds are good for plants and land fills?

Sometimes
I want to believe in God
Some religion
Instead of relying on this figment of my imagination
where I am always responsible:
both the Window and the Sill.