How many years will I be stuck
With this feeling like you're the only one
I'm left with pictures and memories
And you've left for school
And while you'll have a future
I'll wish my future was you
                 I brushed it off as being a kid
                 Love is infatuation instead
I'd like to think I know better now
Like feelings are real if you think they are
Almost like nobody can fill the void
I'm too young but too tired to try
I always have that phone in my hand
I could call you if I had the nerve again
                 But I've lost the idea that I had
                 I know that I don't stand a chance
I can't find out how to move on
And the more I try, I feel worse
But holding on feels so pathetic
Childish, immature and destructive
Something pulls at me inside
The longer I wait to fight this off
                 It's almost like I want this
                 You fill a void without taking part
How many years could I be stuck
With this feeling like you're the only one
Because it feels better to think that I've found you
Than having to continue to look
This attachment bears so many issues
Yet, it somehow just makes me whole

5:00am and folding laundry

when the inspiration tank is yellow lit,
and E stands for more than empty,
but evacuation,
try this remedy,
a first generation family secret!

fold the laundry.
all kinds.
his n' hers,
blacks n' whites
really clean and

and the kind that never get clean,
no matter how much d e t e r-g e n t
you use, how oft you wash 'em...

Instructions:

1. fold only when wearing t- shirt, tank top, briefs (optional)
2. put on Pandora 60's rock n ' roll (folk rock - highly recommend Runaround Sue by Dion and the Belmonts, The Wedding Song, The House of the Rising Sun)
3. dance, shake, improve your moves when nobody's looking
3a. control yourself, if you must sing, at the top of your lungs is not acceptable.
If alone skip, skip to no. 5
4. every third piece give a sniff, get high on
fresh starts, clean notions, the idea that all can be washed away
4a. Every third piece of hers give an extra sniff,
so you can know why love keeps you alive
5. if you have to sing, then only loud is acceptable
(***** the others, you're doing the folding, they're sleep-dreaming)
6. drink lots of water
7. have pen + paper handy cause ain't no doubt
the poet puppet muse masters gonna smack you down
when folding sheets alone.
8. finish the write and post it ASAP
9. always leave the single socks on top of the dryer,
a prayer to the laundry gods for the
safe return of their better halves
10. finish
11. If done correctly, you need to shower (wash hair!)
12, around 6:00am, all scrubbed and clean,
fold yourself back into her arms. Snuggle, spoon.
13. when she mumbles you smell clean, you reply,
                                  "been folding laundry, writing poetry,
                                   and the clean smell done fell on me"
14. if alone, despair not, read this poem and know we are together
15. believe this day is full of possibilities,
write me a poem, put the load right on me

there are stains that cannot be removed,
deterred by this gent, and his a-gents,
they are history, treat'em with respect
and not more
deter-gent

every poem must end,
so when the folding is done,
whisper:

*the day ahead is full of possibilities
like the pleasured reinvigorating of my clothes,
once happy soiled, now happy cleansed,
so I possess an excuse, a reason,
a rationale for living
to fold laundry again!

Sans toi, les directions,
et tu déchires ma tête véritablement en deux
assis sur le ciel
faire de faux
miroirs d'ors sous le plein bleu,
devenu pâle, comme des fragments de déchirure rouler,
ensemble, éloigné,
au milieu de tes liaisons symmétriques,
s'ouvrant changeant en ailes,
dans toutes les directions,
et tu déchires ma tête véritablement
en deux assis sur le ciel
faire de déchirure rouler,
ensemble,
éloigné, au milieu de tes
liaisons symmétriques,
s'ouvrant changeant en ailes,
dans toutes les directions,
et tu déchires ma
tête véritablement en deux
assis sur le ciel
faire de déchirure
rouler, ensemble, éloigné, au milieu de
tes liaisons symmétriques,
s'ouvrant changeant en ailes,
dans toutes
les directions, et tu
déchires ma tête
véritablement en deux
assis sur le ciel faire de
faux miroirs d'ors sous
le plein bleu,
devenu pâle,
comme des fragments de déchirure rouler,
ensemble, éloigné,
au milieu de tes
liaisons symmétriques,
s'ouvrant changeant en ailes,
dans toutes les directions,
et tu déchires ma tête véritablement en deux
assis sur le ciel
faire de toute ce qu'on veut.