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JR Weiss Feb 2011
i look into the mirror.
after a long night alone with
a cheap chardonnay,
my hands run through my hair,
they rub the tired worry from
my eyes.

we stand there for a moment.
sighing a quick prayer and
trying to steady that shaking hand.
we start to raise our heads when

she stares back
unimpressed.
she wonders what happened
blames the sickly color on the lights and
you can almost hear her voice.

"you can't run forever.
sooner or later you're
going to have to answer to
somebody."

you almost wince and try and explain
but she continues to whisper
and plant those bitter black seeds
that take root so easily.

she laughs in your face.
she hates you.
you hate her.

she throws a punch
hitting you square, she shatters.
glaring up at you
from every ******
shard and splinter.
JR Weiss Feb 2011
the word people means different things to all of us
people.
some feel comfort in that word.
a sense of belonging,
the pea in the all encompassing pod
comfortable and safe in the mass of  cooing voices.

i and many others
can fear the word and all its venom,
all its horrible possibilities.
the mass
the populous
the horrible, bigger than life tsunami of
faces, voices, opinions and expectations.
your possible potential
owed to everyone
by the time you have the nerve to be born.

The weight of a million plus eyes is crippling.
stepping out the door takes as much courage
as putting on the mask of everything’s alright.
laughing with the grinning face of the
people.

we are ****** froward into the fray,
the gauntlet of each other.
given rules of proper behavior
but never the rules of humanity or compassion.
drilled with the multiplication and proper verse
but left to our own childhood devices on
how to treat each other.

people
and their million different ways to maim you beyond repair
a knife for every
old scar and tough tissue
hurts left dormant years ago
that they can’t wait to find and rip open.

that fading flickering deep down hope,
held between frozen hands
blocking it from the hard wind.
well that small little hope for humanity
for people
isn't looking so good
not really keeping back the dark
like it used to.
JR Weiss Jan 2011
i can't find a job.
so once a week
i'm on hands and knees
polishing the steps for
an old white couple that feel
they are doing
me a favor.

and
they are...
letting me in their home
to vacuum and polish
dust and fold
scrub and bleach
for the few ripped and creased
dollars they can spare.
the paper sits
held sweaty in one palm
till i find a reason worth letting one go.

they  mull around
sour faced and sighing
how there is a strange film
on the kitchen floor
that was never there before.
i take the hint and run
to re-mop.

i feel as sour as they look sometimes
but i know deep down that
the scrubbing and the polishing
the dusting and the vacuuming
is a god send.
without it....
well,
i don't even want to think
about what i would do
without it.

i had a dream last night where
the man who owns the house that i scrub
came up behind me and slit my throat
my sticky glopping blood
splashing on the floor and walls
that i just finished cleaning.
and my dying thought was
how badly it would stain.
JR Weiss Jan 2011
i am twelve.
my mother has taken me aside
and told me how my father died.
in a time, way back when,
now tinted gold with good memories
and the dust of hard years after.
i was only two and the family
had been complete and happy
for years before...

she tells me of the accident.
and my young mind
can't help but picture
something theater quality.
twisted metal, explosions
flipping end over end
or maybe on fire.

my mother,
frigid with the weight
of what the world expected of her
gone cold after the years of
her own rough childhood,
assures me it was quick
and leaves me to my own imagination.

that night
i dreamt.

my mother and i walk through an empty shopping mall.
she is like the adults in my morning cartoons
nothing but legs and hands,
her upper body off screen
i am small
and afraid,
and clinging to one hand.

we stop in front of a store
the double doors slide open,
and my father steps out.
he tells me to come with him
and i try.

my mother's hand clamps down
holding me fast
i pull and tug
and cry
and scream
and beg.

my father shrugs
tells me it's ok and walks away
the doors sliding closed
gone forever.

i woke crying and alone
in my bed
my mother asleep in her room
my brother asleep in his.
shaking and confused
i lay back down,
wiping at the cold trails
of tears spilt,
and hated my mother
for the first time in my life.
JR Weiss Jan 2011
she sits on the curb
around 2am
drinking from a large dark glass bottle
swaying to her own soft singing
thinking her dark thoughts
and fighting the fights she never could fight
in person.

what has brought her to this place
doesn't matter.
bad choices and even worse
influences
every one's fault but her own,
if you let her
tell the story.

sitting on the curb,
throwing that dark glass bottle
as far as she can so she can hear the crash
laughing as sirens pass
and peeking eyes peer out of dark windows
to see what all the noise is about.

she tries to get up
falling the first time
another donkey bray of a laugh
then back on her feet.
to stroll and sway and sing and cry
screaming up at the cold street lights,
and anyone on this tiny street to happens to be awake,
how wrong her life has gone
how unfair it all is and how
if she had the chance,
well, she might just make the same mistakes
all over again.

her mistakes are all she has anymore
those tragic choices that reek of her
twisted thought processes.
they are the only things she can
breath on and buff up and show off
to the passersby.
as if her purpose in life
was to be a warning to others.
as if she did us all some great service
by taken a path only to mark it as hazardous.

she walks and she stumbles
she sways still softly singing
as the higher class wakes
and gets ready for work.
squinting at the rising sun
she disappears down allways
to tend to unknown day time activities.
but i know
she will be back as soon as
the street lights turn on
she will be back
with more stories and lessons
for those of us who can't seem to sleep.
JR Weiss Jan 2011
i met you once
in a dream.
married for years
the pickpocket and
the traveling salesman.

fish rained down on our wedding day
and our friends released doves.
my dress was a million rose petals
and your tux dripped ink on the church's carpet.

we laughed and loved each other
chewing beeswax and
painting silly faces on our knees.
it was a lovely dream
drinking in the deepest love
and swimming through the cool waters
behind our little green house.

you told me you were afraid of the waking
i couldn't lie so i said
so do i.
we ran
but the alarm and the bright morning found us
i woke and you
were just a dream again.
no closer then a cloud.
a wish whose cologne
clings to my hair.
JR Weiss Jan 2011
those mean little *******
dressed all in dusty black
who whisper in corners
and tag up the walls
with every ******
and hurtful thing
they could think of.

whatareyouthinking?imaginewhatpeoplewillthinkwhentheyreadth­is
theywillthinkyouhavelostit.andmaybeyouhave,
lookatthefuckuptha­tisyourlife.ofcourseyourinsane.


my mind a mural of
me versus me.
slander and hate
from the ones who know me best.
they creep in when
the silence goes on too long.
i try and keep them out
but sometimes
it has to be
silent.

who are these mean little *******?
whispering in my ear,
encouraging those fleeting thoughts
creating new ones
that stick a little longer.
how do you
not
listen to those voices that sound
so much like your own?

godlistentoyouwhine,poorme,poorme,
lifeissohardsometimes
y­oujustwannajumpthatcliffandgetitoverwithdon'tyou?goonanddoit.dous­allafavorandjustjumpalready


they whisper
about how stupid you look
or about how
what you just said,
was wrong
for a million different reasons.
all of them valid,
all of them obvious to
the gasping crowd around you.
they stare
and shake their heads,
whispering along
with those mean
little
*******.

they are ready to fight
everyday
to be heard.
after awhile
you can't help but take some of it in.
it's radioactive waste
posioning the ground water...
those mean
little
*******.

*stupiduglyfatdumbasswasteofspacegoodfornoh­ting
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