i stand at the pedestrian crossing white parallel lines aged by rubber i wait for another person and i cross
my brain goes white with parallel lines i stop in the middle of the street for a second
sometimes i wish a car would take me then sometimes i wish a truck would knock me out is it worth the trauma of gradeschoolers? is it worth the clean up of city hall? and how would they portray me? a suicidal maniac who gets people in prison? or merely an idiot with nothing better to do other than cause chaos?
scene of the crime outlined in white chalk against white parallel lines brain matter splattered on an SUV's windshield
The screech of your brakes And the beep of your horn As you try to avoid the head on collision. Too late. No room to escape. A crash. Some airbags. Hospital fluorescent bulbs. And the guilt. The shame of it all being your fault. Then acceptance. Life is hard. And changes in an instant.
My fault. My fault for existing but if it wasn’t me he would’ve hit someone else. So I guess that’s something.
c o n t a c t up-stairs roof-top toe-tips the-edge long-drop flourish/ball-lightning echo-foxtrot plunder/of the gods/thunderous once more glance-down and it’s merry-go-round vertigo lost - and - found you shout my name c o n t r a c t impact cement face-torn to shape a smile laugh 'after a while crocodile' ; the last witty thought my mind does attract devil pact and the gravity mortally i n v e s t e d arrested now c o n t a c t
When I fired my gun at a criminal, I accidentally shot an innocent bystander. I made a horrible mistake, I was supposed to shoot someone else than her. The person who I accidentally shot was only eighteen years old and I killed her. The guilt I feel is too much to bear and I resigned, I'm no longer a police officer. When I shot and killed that girl, it was a horrible accident, I did not mean to do it. Even though the police academy trained me not to make such a mistake, I blew it. I shed tears every single day because I feel remorse. My wife can't take it anymore, she's getting a divorce. My wife constantly told me to get over it but she was beating a dead horse. I ruined my life, I've lost my wife and I had to resign from the police force. When I accidentally shot and killed that girl, it was a tragic thing to do. If you're a cop, I pray that what happened to me doesn't happen to you.
Fear of wounds from the past A broken man unearthed once again Fear of unending convalescence Stemmed from the spine of circumstance Lingering pain of mistakes made in youth Physical nightmares Please forgive me, my corporeal self My judgement was clouded And now I am the better man That I should have been back then People say I'm lucky that I still breathe A part of me died that day They should of left me there, beneath the trees
It’s a new year and I quit my job **** it, I’ll never be good at serving Directionless in 2013 January. It’s unusually warm.
Your presence in the room is a rock in my shoe You’re so cool And I’m a mess. Remember, you called me Heather in bed? And I made you go home? Well. I forget.
Now we’re crossing the street For your birthday, it’s your birthday, Makers Mark, count ‘em, 2 ounces at a time. Stacked up like unread texts and why don’t you like me’s I don’t remember But I’m probably crying
Flash in to outside God it’s like 60 Deciding to go with you Asking you to kiss me
(I had a long term boyfriend in my 20s And his mother would buy me toilet paper for Christmas The gift of hindsight is kind of like that: Practical and helpful and a ****** of a gift)
Today is 9 years to the day My parents know and they’re on their way The nurse thinks I might be paralyzed 11 broken bones and two black eyes
This is the end of the beginning Which is the easy part I’ve never been able to write it all down Spin it into art
Be warned, I can’t guarantee poetry From a patched-but-still-leaking heart.
Part one of a multi (tbd) part series detailing the drunk driving accident that derailed my life in 2013 and the convoluted and ongoing recovery process.
I have attempted to process this event through a whole swath of creative means, never very successfully. It eludes me. I humbly request patience, as this is a healing exercise. Thank you so much, and may you find peace where it grows.
Last summer our days sped by us like Faris wheel highs swept beneath sidewalk alleyways. We traveled the world in our little neighborhood of dreams; a hand to hold so close yet miles away in words. We found the best out of emptiness, heartening our comfortable silence.
We found each other on accident two summers ago from June, hopscotched in one-night walks on a bus going nowhere fast. By then, we barely knew how far the universe would take us in a matter of months. Now, all I can think about is how to comprise your heart flutter the same way your smile and cosmos composed mine.