I used to have this dream about white umbrellas with red dots and red umbrellas with white dots, and there was a beach with nice sand-- the soft kind that doesn’t feel scratchy on bare thighs.
Maybe a blue woven blanket and a transit radio with rusted edges. But there were never any people.
Except for me.
I was there walking along the too soft sand- barefoot and jubilant.
The waves crashed horizontally- you could see them, but came quickly to the realization that you would never feel them- they only traveled left and right.
And the sun and clouds and very much blue sky would be extremely beautiful-- until a sort of smoke like thought would enter your head. The thought
none of this is real.



I used to have a lot of dreams. But now I’m not so sure when I dream- when exactly I stop dreaming.
It’s like someone pushed a pause button on my ability to sense reality as it is.
It’s a terrible tribulation to attempt to hold focus- my head is a daydream.
Like I'm living in an upside down daydream where nothing is real, yet my actions do in fact have consequences.
Like I am nothing more than a person made up by another mind sent to play poker on the 50" flat screen you just had to buy.
My head is attached to my body but my mind is not. And this body-- my body- is not actually so.



Every memory is disfigured and foggy and seems to make no real connection.
Who am I?
I don’t know and I don’t think I’ll ever know again.
It’s too complex a thought.
Am I saying I like something because I like it- do I truly enjoy it?
Or am I just saying so-
I mean, what do I really like?
Who is this person behind my eyes?
I’m not sure anymore.

I need to write you a love poem.
No Maytime and flowers.
No June and moon.
But smoldering with passion
And heated desires
so much so
It will slow down time itself
to a motionless crawl
dragging out
the seconds into hours
Until you return to my bed.

Filling your thoughts with
Desire and lust.
As dangerous
as the surging rapids
of the mountain rivers
after the winter snow melts.

So intense
it burns away propriety
And we will feast
on its wild ancient flavors.

So encapsulating
upon reading its words.
You will unfasten your hair
as you drop everything else
and run to me.

And when we meet
No words
No words
No words
Let's not waste
our breath on words.

It's like this strange wiry sensation that taps the nerves just below my skin
Starting in the awkward curve of my temples, running down my spine, settling in my toes
like a sudden burst of uncontrollable rage that plays dormite in my head
And for a second, just a mire second, I completely lose my mind.
My nails dig deep into the frail flesh of my palms.
It’s called anger management I suppose.

You like to draw.
To make art.
I could be your paper.
Make me into art.
Sketch your every feeling,
memory
and hurt.
Into my blue hands,
and rose cheeks.
I wouldn’t mind.
I strive to be your
Art.

nobody ever “got it”
they didn’t seem to understand
that it was never about the drugs
they saw a waste of space
a low life teen
surfing on neon hallucinations
they saw angry decisions
blackened by ash
and a years destruction of a
pill bottle’s attach
said we should have listened
harder to those programs
the cunningham family ones
they show at school
the ones that showed us
drugs were “bad”
but those **** things
failed to inform us on the “noise”
the “noise” that would soon fill
the space of every broken
dream, promise, or heart.
the “noise” that weighed
down on us kids
that didn't end once it had
hit start.
they failed to mention
the pain and the stress
they lied and never told us how
life, school, parents, everything
was forever one big unsolved mess.
like a knife it slit into our souls
bleeding tears and dignity
we leaned over bridges to try and catch
our childhood memories
but we kept bleeding
losing ourselves in a void of darkness
falling
falling
falling
deeper into a blackened abist
and so we kept falling,
trying desperately to cling on to any branch
anything.
until our shaky blue fingertips kissed
softly against an ecstasy.
a cure
and finally for the first time sense as
long as we could remember,
the noise was no more.