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it was over. finished and requiring further complicity for another onslaught of banal narrative to be revealed before my to half opened windows when i sought a habit that, as a friend warns me, is most deadly.
12:15 AM
**** it im out. but wait everyone is asleep. so take a flashlight with you dummy. no. the click makes too much noise. a lighter? NO! even worse. grab a phone in the remote chance that while im alone, aside the ever-greening pool, she might call.
12:17 AM
that stupid ******* glow-in-the-dark rosary! it ruins me every time and so does the 14th 16th, and 9th step from the bottom with their relentless creak. i should have learned by now their pattern but, then again, i only need it when nefarious action is in play. shame on me. my phone served as an appropriate guide (as long as it shone away from my parents door, of course). tip-toeing over the debris that still remains from a "successful" marriage i arrived at the back door.
it has a trick though.
12:21 AM
it depends on which way you are going, but to eek out of it properly you have to pull in and then turn the handle. NO SCRATCH THAT REVERSE IT and vice versa. the out of doors is only slightly more liberating than being cloistered in a room bound by roddenberry. on this night, however, the night provided what might be considered, by people in towns whose greatest income centers around cattle feeding and slaughter, as breezy and cool.
12:24 AM
where ARE those cigarettes?? **** it. a **** will do. clip clop around the green until you realize you know where ever piece of debris is. you are stepping over the things that you cannot see. surreal. ****. look up to ascertain your spatial coordinates.
12:26 AM
**** it. again. some more. if you keep looking up looking at the flaming ***** of helium trillions of light years away and someone comes out they will probably think that you are just contemplating your own existence as opposed to the other...thing. something that really has no name. the place between dream and reality. this place, though, has a certain specificity. a clarity. so i consider what i am privy to.
12:30 AM
small dots above me. white dots in a globular dispersion above me. what im told is that they are steadily--NO--rapidly retreating from me. i am told that all of these dots have more dots, that i cant see, that move around them. on /those/ dots sentient things might exist. might. what i know for myself is that I DO. as well as i am able to ascertain, other people like myself exist too. and, if they are anything like me they must experience something similar to my experiences.
12:33 AM
well ****. these dots. these ******* white dots, as they flee with their potential other lives, make realize [yet again mind you[ that i have things that might be unique to me and only a handful of other things like me on this sphere.
12:35 AM
if i were to ignore those statistically remote similarities here, near me, i would be as foolish as the pin ball that thinks it belongs among the bumpers. i belong in a least one that fits my shape.
i am no pinball.
but i live amongst those things that tell me what i know. what i have known. what continues to reveal to me the nature of nature.
12:38 AM
startled i ***** my cigarette on the bench my father and i once made for an easter get-together with my family and withdraw my phone again to return to roddenberrys lair. over the pile of old coats near the back door. beyond the 52" plasma still playing a re-run of diners, drive-ins and whatever the **** and, shining the light away from my parents door i climbed the stairs. making sure to hit 9, 14, and 16 on the way up, cursing myself at the top."you mind if i pseudo-rant for a bit while," i smashed on the remote keys.
no edit
this is a right and true story.
nothing is embellished.
each moment
each movement
no slight of hand
only straight-forward speach
minorly misinterpreted

it looks likes sorcerery
but falls flat like a ****** on a plank
walks crooked
back and forth
going nowhere

it IS a story
but it holds water
like a sieve
no matter the water was murky
this sidewalk is doing nothing for me
until your blue pools drowned me
but you caught me
in ill hold you like my champion
im in love.

understanding cant be amused
drives ever bit of me away
but id love to stay

what is meant to be
a child like thing that i plunged
was shot off the red clay
and grass
directly into the river
that creeped
as if on stilts

my heart swelled
as i was immersed
and ever single fiber in me
smiling son hard i forgot
not to breathe under water

it was her black eyes
the angel
that drew me to the slender arms
of my savior

only to leave me on the shore
taken under by the swell
dragged and punched by
a wave

[too] high
to climb so far above
to the crest

who needs sea-foam
its mostly ******* air

hot to drop
to the coolest depths
and be covered over

ill be turned on
to reveal the barnacles and moss

taking lichens for a walk now
only twenty clams
its not midnight
someone just turned out the lights
on my party
of one

its not bright out
its the fire blazing without a coal
in a hearth
with no screen

thats not a flower
its a **** with a smelly bloom
in a pasture
with no fence

im not a comedian
im only a guy with pratt falls pocketed
with a pun
and a play on words in hand

there is no love
there is only a trust between two
there is a kiss
a late night call

and sanity
there is no sanity
there is only a belief
a trust
in what cant be robbed
in what cant be...
what was i saying

what time is it?
11. its 11
i would have been barefoot
with cuffs not hemmed
and rolled
but its not fashion
my jeans are aged
but not from design

i wear my life
into a one roomed class
it dons a bell tower
and, post-toll
no one prays
one instructor for all
each led in divergent direction
according to our abilities

and while the greater lot
learns an appealing cursive script
i curse at the blank pages before me
in my simple way
passing them as notes
but they fall on ears
as barren of hearing
as the recipients feet are
of the callous and sediment
that make mine
breathe life into my narrative

but here no lessons are taught
however gleaned from discord
interpreted through grime
grime and rebuke
filtered through shallow waters
through embattled plains
rife with mole hills and ant piles
scattered with patches of knee high grass
spotted with blooming indigenous flora
i should have been writing code.
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