i. age with every word. they always say that freedom
will come and your worries rush away in brinks and
moments but age has only brought me apathy, distance
and isolation. i am more familiar with the burning, effervescent
sun and the inner workings of its core than i am with the
gentle light that they preach of. age has made me cruel,
and forgotten meanings of kindness.
ii. i always mistake my house -- its a consistent pattern.
backseat blurs, headnod turns. ministop flashing light,
grey grotto trove, pastel houses fading to parking lot
handicapped spaces. ill lose it in time.
iii. sick of writing songs for you to slit your wrists to
iv. she calls me this number over and over,
126 cannot be sad. 126 is the most auspicious one
in the program. 126 is a soldier. 126 is another one.
instead of telling me about the world she asks if
i had ever tried hooking clothespin sheets.
v. afraid of the music and things i whisper on the
way to the end.
vi. i swear baby, only my narcissism can transcend
this ever-indulgent, self-loathing bale of blame.
ego taught me how to fight in a world of belief.
vii. promise me that you will listen when the
music starts to fade, when the water turnstile clogs
and the school speaker serenades the halls.
viii. all my wants could have been all was.
ix.we are less than we think.
x. everything i had ever loved had taught me how to die.