we went to catalina once
hoping to see seals.
it must have been the third or fourth beach
(all rock)
that we kayaked to,
when we saw it.
we shrieked with glee
until, honing in,
saw something unnatural—
a perfectly round hole
gaping in its belly.
we shrieked again.
sometimes i feel like that seal.
my heart has this round hole in it,
gaping wide,
unable to ever be filled.
why is it that we feel our emotions in our heart so strongly?
breathe.
i need to remind myself
it’s just the caffeine.
caffeine gives my heart holes.
so do unanswered calls
when you’re desperate for the person
you love.
breathe.
the caffeine will wear off soon,
and you’ll be able to fall into the elusive sweetness of slumber.
don’t think about
loves long past
faces, eyes, smiles you cherished so hard
so long ago.
all you have now is you.
you are responsible for the decisions that led you here.
technology has made us more connected than ever,
a dozen faces running through your mind.
you miss them all.
with the touch of a button you could be close again.
to be so close is dangerous. you can fall back in.
but you, or life, or fate, has led you here.
some things are out of your control.
but things that are under your control are much worse.
you have the power to flick that switch,
to change the train track you’re chugging down
so easily.
one flick.
of course we have free will.
i know any one of the dozens and hundreds and thousands of potentially little choices—
but really, big choices—
can change my whole life.
that’s scary.
that’s staring down into the sea when
you can’t see the ocean floor.
just nothingness.
plunge in.
it’ll be ok. you can’t go too wrong.
you’re living such a blessed life as it is.
but the possibilities are endless and swimming in them is dizzying
i have vertigo
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 3:35 AM UTC
gotta stop saying
I love you -- the words are so
stale in my hard mouth
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 1:01 PM UTC
saturday nights,
after turning in final papers 24 hours late,
are for
ketamine,
candles,
red grapes, and
stalking your ex's exes.
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 7:05 PM UTC
we're all the ******* same.
we wear hoops in our ears to seem gangsta,
wear black to show we don't care,
we're all existentialists fond of nietsche
we write poems and laud self expression as a new god,
the god of the self.
we listen to the most minimal techno
while smoking cigarettes that will **** us
and we don't maintain eye contact too long
or we'll fall in love
because we're so not used to raw human contact.
we **** on drugs
god forbid we let someone see
our real selves, stripped down,
not hiding behind a haze of being high.
we yearn for a greater meaning,
and strut around like roosters pretending
we care about politics
but the world is collapsing on itself
and all we can do is write facebook posts,
millions of the same laments.
we don't actually care,
except as a way to boost our own egos for being informed.
we care about living in the moment,
paying exorbitant amounts of money to
rave in a desert with thousands of other people
also living in the moment.
we don't want ugly friends,
beautiful friends are so much more instagrammable.
we all care about having perfect sunglasses,
perfect shoes,
perfect hair,
more than having a perfect world,
perfect understanding,
perfectly imperfect, fought for love.
no wonder we keep smoking to
shorten our hedonistic lives.
our minds are decaying while
our bodies are getting primed up,
glossified, matted, blurred,
made more perfect every day.
nazis have an undercut? well,
every boy in america has one too.
go punch a ****
not because you think it's the right thing to do,
but because you want to be cool.
we're all just followers, all just tools.
and writing all this out makes me the biggest tool of all,
because it's nothing that hasn't already been written
a thousand times before.
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
twenty-something years ago he emerged
into the light from a state of submerged
he now fills the air
with beauty and care
and all the lovely things of the absurd
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 4:00 AM UTC
self love and affirmations
are so cringeworthy to me --
that's mean, i know.
the perfect depiction of
schaudenfraude.
but it's so needed.
sometimes this space feels too small
with no more balcony
you blow smoke directly in my face
stain our ceiling fan black
give me a contact high
while i try to multitask on five
things at once,
unsuccessfully,
ever more unsuccessfully.
i've lost all focus.
i just want a clean bed,
soft sheets,
a sink free from ***** dishes
and every manner of walking and
flying insect
-- this constant infestation.
i just want clean air,
to breathe,
bikes that don't break and
don't get stolen.
shoes that protect my feet
from the grime that slickly coats
the sidewalks of LA black.
shoes that are also pretty.
i don't have any of this.
money, money, money
i'm always crying over you.
i'm sick of your ****
but i'm forever bound to you.
and you treat me cruelly
taunt me with everything i can't have.
"joke's on you my friend,
you better guess again,
cause everybody's gotta pay their way"
"death is easy, life is hard"
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
melancholia,
loneliness
weigh down the insides of buses
streaming out the cold air vents
swirling
seeping into seats
drifting in and out of sleep
passing over state lines
anonymously
in and out
like a whisper nobody hears, each
person immersed in their own heaviness,
traveling for a job they're stuck to
or a girlfriend they've pledged to
songs you love on repeat
clinging onto anything that reminds you of
home while you're on the road
blinking as you pass another overpass, another truck, another
rest stop
everything gray
everything the same
running like an ant on an anthill
trapped in one world
not even knowing the scale of the rest
.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
my depression's been pretty bad recently, daresay among the worst of the times i've had it. i couldn't put forth the effort to reschedule this meeting i was supposed to have with my boss for two weeks. today i actually reached a point where i gave up on my boyfriend's love for me too, thinking i was too miserable to possibly be loved. i had numbed myself out to the point where i couldn't even fathom his love for me or how it could exist. he proceeded to comfort me by lying with his full weight on top of me (per my request) and nuzzling me while i sobbed, so so happy because i was able to feel his love for me again. depression isn't being sad, it's about being numb and devoid of feeling. it's scary when you feel like you won't be able to feel again.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC
moved to the living room cause your
snoring was causing the ceiling
to collapse --
scrolling on an endless blue screen on
the couch we got earlier today --
for free! yay craigslist! --
and i can't hear your snoring anymore
and suddenly, with all my heart,
i miss it so much
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
the melancholy soaks your heart in an ocean of ice. you
are drowning but feel no pain, just a
numbness that spreads to your fingers and toes and
a cold whose depths have no limit. your mind is the
two-faced mayor of your body, knowing that everything is
all right but
plunging and holding you under at the same time,
torturing you only to show that it can.
it knows every beautiful thing in the world but also every
unflinching horror, and
pries your eyes open to parade in front of you
a sea of images of utter despair and desperation.
it is like the world's worst propaganda, the most corrupt
media company ever to have existed. it
brings you from the pinnacle of your existence, the
sun-dappled happiest moments of your life, to lying
fetal and trembling
in the dark
alone.
it is an 80-foot monster wave that is the purest
adrenaline rush you have ever sought, and in a split second, it
holds you under until you wish you were dead.
you still have air in your lungs, though, and a heart that stubbornly
refuses to stop pumping and bringing life to your body.
you have legs that remember, and enjoy, the gift of walking, of running,
skipping, skating.
you have fingers that know how to hit keys on a keyboard, wrists
that can bend to let you write and draw anything that you want.
your mind isn't everything and you can beat it,
no matter what it tells you.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC