i dont remember writing your birthday on my calander
but i don't see why i should
when the point of having it there in the first place
is so i don't have to remember these important dates
rather, just how to read a chart
but August 27th was always your square
even before i drew candles in the corner
and i dont need a flipbook to tell me how to remember
the anniversary of someone like you
still i wish you'd remember mine
maybe you should try writing it down
its december 30th
An existentialist sat quietly outlooking the garden,
offset by the noise of a steady heartbeat
and the warmth of his skin.
He was dismayed by the smell of dirt
writhing with worms and pumpkin seeds below his porch,
so he kept distance from the steps for fear of collapsing;
letting them rot back into the soil.
He began resting his eyes against the midmorning breeze,
for his nights were spent awake, listening to lonely calls,
feeling their whispers reverberate in his fingertips,
unable to satisfy them with reason
so never sleeping out of fear of submission.
Only now under the prying sunlight
does he understands the need for light at both ends of the tunnel.
Letting the rock of the chair run lose momentum,
his thoughts run through a stream of finite silence.
Did you **** him?
You slit his throat.
Well, I guess.
So you admit it?
Might as well.
Why'd you do it?
the end is nigh in a grocery store parking lot
full of lost trolleys turned batting cages,
barren shelves seemingly feeding the hysteria
there's another clean up on aisle 3
a gallon of 2% milk coats the floor in white
then turns a sickly shade of strawberry
when a woman unknowingly cleans it with her bleeding hands
No one is left to check us out
so we'll wait until the stains are gone
it's only a minute but that's all it needs
so we eye each other behind masks
and clutch our bread flower
not able to distinguish a glare from a smile
because all our squinted eyes look the same
Especially in 5 o clock lights
when we come home from offices
that double as playrooms and bedrooms
infirmaries and wards
but we're all itching to crawl back into our cages
and to be fed when the zookeeper makes his rounds
in morning updates and nightly news
we pay and run
jump in our cars, still full of gas
wipe off our milk
and sing happy birthday to the trickle of the faucet
written 5 months ago, oh how the times haven't changed
air comes cold when it blows in the summer
fields now bare star crossed lovers
made way for us; the calling birds
we wait outside the doors and curbs
alone on branches and powerlines
our silhouettes aren't hard to find
old walls of bricks, of straw, and birch
have wavered not the mighty chirp
crows and sparrows in the night
are unlike you, we need no light
for then comes machines and bustling towns
rings of rosies falling down
no need for such when you have wings
take comfort in the flying things
she was so beautiful
so i plucked her from her bed,
denied her a glass of water,
and suffocated her between
so she could stay
only being in love with the idea of myself
behold the product of my isolation