you could fix it
so easily
that’s what makes you suspicious
you don’t

what’s your game mate?
what are you playing for?

one thing I am not cursed with
is disorganized thought
my emotions may be a mess
but my thoughts...
they are very organized
they are actually
self organizing
as if my thoughts have a mind
and will
of their own
an order they want to be in
a point they want to make
and I am just an observer of this process
a smart *** observer

I’m not happy the way I was
before, with you... or... him, I guess
I can’t even imagine being happy like that again
can’t even imagine it
that’s the saddest part
since I can usually imagine
well, just about anything

—Mom!! Moooommmm!!
    Help!!! I need a hug!!!
    I’m dyyyy-inngg!!!
    I need a hug mom!!! Heeelllp!!!
mom stands staring blankly
at dramatically flailing
not very small child
trying to figure out
the safest angle
of approach

no one cares anymore
not my therapist
or the police
not my friends or family,
he doesn’t even ask
they’ve all lost interest
you’re absolutely free

when I am dead
I will not haunt you
or protect you
I will not hang around at all
not Earth, and not “heaven”
I will go home
I might pass through the sun
and the galactic core
I might make a few stops
if possible
but then I will pass through
the wheel
into the timeless infinity
outside all the universes
for just a little while
I will rest, be, and do research
but I will come back here
some other time
when I come up with more plans
maybe we can meet up then

there are eyes in the dark
and shapes
they fold in and out
they pulse
I try not to look
I don’t want to know
what they are
or if they’re touching me

who is my captor?
is it him? or you?
who is the arbiter
of my Stockholm syndrome?

or is it me?

it’s no wonder we’re anxious
paranoid
that we have boundary issues
when those of us who can hear
would be called schizophrenic
when we are all being watched
every moment of our lives
not by tech companies
or the government
or aliens (they’re no different)

but by them

the dead
the angels
demons
parasites
the non-corporeal
...our souls
it’s very stressful
trying not to betray them
or ourselves

I know I haven’t said lately but
you’re wonderful and perfect and
there’s nothing wrong with you at all
...in the grand scheme of things

a nodding acquaintance
indifferent
an anonymous stalker
obsessed
a partner
in love
a woman
lost

troubled sleep
woke up in full delusion mode
you were him again
it was disturbing
depressing
destabilizing
I woke up in love

I don’t see you
You don’t see me
Not really

will you come to my funeral
at least
will you say good bye
will you say
see you next time

athletic, beautiful, chivalrous
where did you get this
when you love someone
you see what you want
you see what you want

every poem is the last
even this

every time you shrug
that’s you, granting yourself the blessing
of the serenity prayer

it’s hard to trust and respect people
intimately
when you are a little bit brilliant
I understand why one might chose a pigeon

I can’t talk to myself anymore
myself betrayed me
lied
can’t be trusted
it doesn’t exist now
I’m not sure who does

she only calls me when there’s no one to get drunk with
her other friends, they go to dinner
hiking
hang out at each other’s place
I get the equivalent of a late night *******
for getting wasted
maybe because I don’t judge?
or maybe I’m just really tolerable when you’re drunk
that’s pretty much the only time he spent with me too
that, or maybe you just need to be ******
every
day

I nearly cried today
a few tears dripped out
I was really looking forward to it
didn’t happen though
maybe next time

blankets are nicer than people
they keep you warm and don’t creep you out
or leave you feeling like crap
loneliness is over diagnosed
also, I hate everyone

I can be boring
soooo boring
I can write about paint
in fact
I have some paint right here
it’s grey
the most boring color for paint
I will drag it across the walls of your mind
and put you right
to sleep

driving at night
is a terrible fright
with my very poor sight
so if we get into a fight
please
do not let me drive
at night

shoveling snow
is the way to go
I don’t like the blower
(also a bit afraid of the mower)
but walking that scrraaape! down the drive
(so it’s easy to leave, and arrive)
is a peaceful solitary way
to spend a cold bright Sunday
with my quiet
methodical
countenance,
while I watch the squirrels playfully
hop the fence

socks
I hate folding socks
there’s no chore
I hate more
than folding a great big pile of socks
especially if they’re all the same
black, white, gray... lame

it’s not zen
(like washing dishes)
not satisfying
(like fixing britches)
there’s no sense of accomplishment
(like cooking a meal that’s ambitious)
folding socks is a terrible bore

but not having them folded
is the one thing I hate more

I have no fantasy
no desire
no muse
no love
no spark

the words are calming me
each word is a recycle bin
I’m taking out the trash

I’m thinking
don’t touch me
lately I’m always thinking
don’t touch me
I shudder
I’m responsible
for everything
don’t touch me
don’t ever touch me
again
I wish I could say it

my eye is a giant boil
aching with vision
or lack
clouded with hurt
and denial
my eye is red and burning
it’s mate cannot relate
pressure grows
the dry burning orb
begs for release
if only it could cry
or scream
louder

my insides are shaking
vibrating at the speed of terror
I can’t breath
when will it stop

we were a thing that never was
a place that never placed
you never chased me because
there is no elephant zebra race

I think it’s funny
how you pretend there’s a thing you can do
like there are different actions you could take
that would make a difference
like you have choices
that just
that kills me

I figured it out
my attraction is based on respect
and that’s why
I can’t bring myself to **** a trump supporter
even if he’s hot
and can build me a closet

no offense but
I think you are crazier than me
like, more deluded and disturbed
I’m not sure if that makes me feel better
or worse

I can’t for the life of me park straight
and it’s getting worse
it’s embarrassing
but I have to live with it
some people can’t cook
others can’t carry a tune
some have terrible breath
me? can’t park straight
(shrugs)

Happy Valentine’s Day mother
We will go eat butter
In the summer
Oh, butter!

we will find all the Pokémon downtown
we will catch them and battle them and other stuff
we will wear gloves and eat donuts

why are you so happy today
it’s very suspicious
I don’t like it one bit

another dream
a really great one
I’d like to go back to sleep

trust is only as valuable
as the life you’re trying to preserve

I have crocheted a thick blanket
of sarcasm and innocence
it’s a bit clashing

I read them
once, twice, maybe three times
but I don’t go into anything much further
(I can’t help it if I remember every ******* thing I ever read)
I just let the existence flow
across the time space
even as it pertains to her, these days
I don’t care much about that
I just can’t be too concerned
with any of your dynamics
you understand

panic?
conscience?
counterinsurgency?
immune system?
parasites?
epileptic?
diabetic?
killer bees?
shark?
zombie?
... aliens?

two weeks used to be hard
and then I made it three months at a time
last year was only once
my goal now is to go a whole year
without seeing him
and then that year can turn into another year
and another
until I don’t even notice the years going by
and it just becomes like regular life
whatever that was
at some point maybe I’ll even go a day
without thinking of him

I imagine him suffering over me
it’s indulgent, I know
he’s not
but it makes me feel love
and sympathy and forgiveness
and human

and I can’t imagine you
at all

nothing hurts (much)
the light is bright
things are in order
and clean (relatively)
I think I even feel a bit happy
I’m smiling anyway
it’s a day of peace
and gratitude
so far
the first 30 minutes of it anyway

scientists are the real gurus of poetry
a scientist came up with the term
“transient luminous event”
as a technical term

that person is my new muse

there is a thin steely streak
an unrelenting
unforgiving
unsympathetic
streak
it’s usually reserved for herself
but you found it
it’s not your fault
it’s just how she’s built
it’s like the rebar
holding the foundation together

you’ve been added
to a very small collection
of the most intimate betrayals
you’re practically family