"what's that? you can't get out of your bed?
too weak to be alive, too lazy to be dead?
well! take your zoloft effectively
just inhibit reuptake selectively
and soon you'll have the energy
to end your life impulsively
or be rid of feelings entirely
a chipper, cheery half-zombie"

"your panicking fits interfere with your day?
i'll lay out a feast, a benzo-buffet
ativan, klonopin, xanax oh my!
not just for those who are too scared to fly!
pop two and kiss all of your worries goodbye
and your memory, too, if you come to rely
on hours spent watching your life pass by
just try and object through that stubborn tongue-tie"

"your circadian rhythm is not quite right
you're asleep with the sun and awake in the night
so take one of these twice before closing your eyes
and wait for the dreams that will doubtless arise
too vivid and real to know truth from lies
and the nightmares will be an unpleasant  surprise
but stopping abruptly is duly unwise
so just find your stars in trazodone skies"

one time it was two am and i was outside a bar
when the air was just crisping from its summer bake
and naked trees matched shivering girls in micro-dresses
you asked if i lived in the city
i was a pumpkin-beer-drunken, kohl-smeared mess
so i grinned sloppily and fumbling, lit a cigarette
while i replied "for now"
how ******* mysterious am i?
i am patronizing this well-meaning boy in a polo shirt
but thank god for liquor cause luckily
he laughed and snorted smoke out his nostrils
"heading somewhere?"
i took another drag and exhaled
maybe for emphasis?
am i that ******* contrived?
"i'm thinking australia?"
there that felt sincere
did it look sincere?
and he asks why of course he asks why and now
i can laugh and say
"it's very far away"
because jesus christ i need to pretend i have depth i guess
i'm a mirage begging for substance
he taps his cigarette and grins at the ground
"running away from problems?" he asks, suddenly mischievous
i try to match his smile but i have to think fast because
i don't have the kind of problems that make you run away
my family is loving, big, rooted
my friends are devoted, they better me
i could stay in comfort if i had the patience but
my feet just want new pavement
and my eyes are snow-blind by now
so i demure, i think.
if that eyebrow quirk and downcast gaze
is what demurring is
captain morgan chucks my chin and i am
all smiles again
i stick the cigarette in my lips and spread my
arms wide
"i prefer to think of it as running towards different problems."
i smile the way i know shows off my dimples
because i can't help but be a facade
i guess he's charmed because he texted me a few times
for the next few weeks
until my silence
exhausted his interest
he failed the test marx talks about
no not that one
groucho
i don't want anyone who would want me
since i'd rather be a story
sooner a paper-thin memory
than an illusion revealed.

each time i see a dead man's face
i think i'd maybe known him
flirted with him in a bar perhaps
beneath a blue neon moon
forgot him as easily as i lied
about the last digit
of my cell phone number

and now he's smiling at me
from the blueing screen
and i think he might have been
one of those guys
who grew into his looks
and disgust myself when i wonder
what they could have thought of me.

call me candied kitsch
syrup blooming spoonfuls
decadent for a  moment
overwhelming in two
nauseating in three
at arms-length i am half
your wingspan away from you

it's always been my way to start
somewhere in the middle and
spread from there in layers
to seep and sweep and tumble and rush
to gurgle and howl and crash
towards a boy in dim lighting
who probably wanted to talk to my friend

he's a sentimental boy
who keeps fur in a jar from his childhood dog
sagely mumbles something about cloning
when i **** my head to the side and point.
he has lost most things
to the wind and rain
guards his memories
and the scrap of paper i scribbled on
and dropped in his car
before i left with his lips on my tongue
and the sound of his "i hate you" drumming
on a 12-hour train ride back to sydney.
and i've always heard about boys with mischievous smiles
but i never expected a lost boy to find me
with his jack-o-lantern eyes
one laughing
one bored
surveying everyone with eyelids still imprinted
with the image of paradise
the comparison drawn whether he wants it or not
do i fall too short of the beauty he's seen?