I'm not ready for this.
My twenties came and went like a cheap hotel match.
A flash of light, a few strange smells, then nothing.
So much of it was an excuse to do something stupid.
A selfish write off.
A long string of bad decisions, childish mistakes, laughable investments.
I mean, it's not that I regret all of it, a lot of it was devilishly fun.
Sift through the bad memories and there is some epic anecdotes,
some glorious moments of danger and excitement.
Some legendary nights of crazed stupidity.
But I was too short sighted, at times almost too reckless.
I wish I wasn't turning thirty...
It's okay to be stupid in your twenties.
If anyone asks, you say "What? It's my twenties."
They're suppose to be a trial and error era.
But did I take it too far?
And what of the shit that was out of my hands?
All that wasn't my fault, all that was done to me.
My time got taxed for that too, huh?
I mean, I get my mistakes, but theirs too?
Goddamn clock, just slow down for a second or two!
I'm not ready for this!
This isn't goddamn fair.
Why am I being punished for living?
How was I to know life would fly this fast?
How is this my fault?
In thirty minutes I'll be thirty.
The thought makes me nauseous.
Where has my life gone?
I swore I'd have things figured out by now.
What did I do wrong?
Did I really fuck up that bad in a past life?
Did my parents pick the wrong god for me?!
How many nights did I stay in and do nothing?
How many nights did I waste with the wrong friends?
The wrong girl?
How many nights did I waste playing video games?
Drinking by myself?
What have I done? So much wasted!!!
God help me, twenty minutes left of my sanity.
I'm clawing at the walls.
This is the worst.
I can feel my hair falling out.
My eyes are fading.
My back is giving way.
Now I'm gonna have to act like an adult.
Oh God please, not that.
I'm not ready!!
What if I stop drinking, start taking care of myself?
Can I have a few more twenties years?
I'll sell my soul for a few more twenties years...
Oh fuck off, now you don't answer?!
Screw you, Satan
Maybe I'll just lie to everyone,
tell everyone I'm twenty nine forever?
Okay fine, bad idea.
But can I just have one more year, please?
I mean, should I really care?
My last few twenties birthdays were absolutely terrible
to say the least.
This past week was even worse.
Like an overture of everything that made my twenties suck.
I suppose that's my fault too!
So maybe its a good thing they're over!
Yeah! Fuck my twenties, they sucked anyways!
My thirties have to be better, right?
I don't wanna be thirty! I'm not ready!
Should I just kill myself now?
Stop clock, please.
Fuck you Father Time, you relentless serial killer!
No, I can't even, I just can't!
I don't want another birthday ever again!
No more birthdays, please!
I receive an average of 1 text per day.
It's usually a bill payment reminder.
I have no friends.
No, literally, none at all.
I'm on 3 dating websites,
sending 50 messages a day.
I'm fit. Gym 7 days a week.
Well-groomed and clothed.
I've been called handsome.
None of that matters.
I can explain a
thermodynamic chemical equation to you.
And it'd still be easier than for me
to land a date.
I'm going to settle for a woman when I'm 40.
She'll be in her 30s, desperate to conceive.
We'll have some children but no interest in each other.
And that'll be the end of my romantic life.
Our youth was our best chance
to make it big and set out
on adventures that last
the rest of our lives.
I missed the train, overslept
and now life's alarm screams
in my ears, reminding me
that I'm in over my head.
I should have stayed in bed.
This news that my adulthood begins with no allies
or a single plan
didn't meet me well.
I'm hiding out now
trying to slip my way
out of this one.
I'll think about it,
the blur that was our youth
when I've withered in my old age.
I should have done more,
now I can't do anything.
I'll write a thousand more
depressing pieces that prove
I still haven't gotten over it
and I still have not even
the slightest clue what to do
at the end of a blur we called youth.
And all the things that happen to you
You ain't got a clue where this will take you
But it's the best age, it's really so true
Falling in love
You catch dreams like a dove
You can see your hopes in the sky above
But you trade them again for a couple of $h§7
You may have the best time
And feel really damn fine
You can make it all up and create in your mind
But in the end it's gone for a dime
The best year is over
Better look out for cover
It's all gonna end in a supernova
Just like the luck of my four leaf clover
So baby, please make sure
Never feel too secure
Of the things that happen to you
When you're 22
Miriam Marcus struggles up out of bed. She's caught up in blankets and clothing, stuck with a foot in the sheets. Coffee smell. Pungent, slightly sweet, it pulls her by her shoulders, with its body to the door. Then, sharp and deep, scents of a trashcan floating chicken in its own juice punch her in the nose. In the hall, lights flicker. In front, on the couches, bodies pile up, pile over the room. Get caffeine. Dodge the food spoiling happy on tables, counters, and do what you do as you do. Every day.
Short. Succinct. Acute.
I never even wanted
First smell is a fragrance
soft to my nose.
Will I be number 6 in
this two bedroom
forever? Will I
lose my job?
Short. Succinct. Acute.
I never even wanted
You wanted this medication,
baby. You can't tell me different,
though you could try. Bitch,
why you gonna waste my time?
I'm waiting for you, waiting
for you to catch up. While you
play twenties in your thirties
I urge your image using only
raw throated screams, always
unseen behind your head in
floating, incorporeal code!
And it kills that I can't know
if she'll catch up!
I'll chew her heart into chunks,
just let me!
I'll eviscerate her, devour her
and shit her out
into a self made five mile hole
in the lonely woods!
Just let me.
You think about people like that now and then.
People change or they don’t or you think they do but never did.
Circles and circles of what exactly you should talk about.
Sometimes as you’re talking you get those flashes of maybe this could…
But, you remember the silly shit.
The teenaged mind of self-conscious acts, on repeat.
Do I think that maybe I could...
And you get eaten alive by mosquitoes during the day,
And at night during the summertime
The same pavement, the same circle.
You wanna look up at the stars and put yourself far far away
From the past year, the life you thought you were never going to have
But, you can’t because you remember
That I can’t have these times, this life
Of hanging out, lying on the couch
With not a care in the world.
broke, scared, high, uncared - fucked.
too in love with love to let him go.
hands ripping skin around fingernails to shreds.
contemplating the existence of religion and of ambition,
(remember they say work is worship,
your purpose you cannot shun).
fingernails scraping the desperate bones between which a beating heart once bled.
in the shadows of the darkness you see the past -
another second passed, time flying so fast, one cannot last.
treading tip-toe across a tightrope
stretched thin between your rising expectations
and his fla(il)ling patience.
nature’s infinite scream tearing through dimensions, leaving you haunted.
there’s a lot you hoped you’d never be in your twenties.
slow, shallow, low, hollow - stop.
diaphanous landscapes leaking into memory’s slippery crevasses.
no longer aware of the here and now.
battling desperately against reality’s sting.
questioning the bitter metallic aftertaste that punctuates
every seemingly-cheerful conversation.
self-worth slashed into strings of cynicism
hanging around a sorry neck.
inhaling air thick with the dregs of a life
suspended between conflicting timelines.
the past and present collide angrily to disfigure the future.
the past and present, two words that cease to exist in the future.
glassy eyes staring proudly at shattered crutches scattered around cut feet.
there's a lot you never thought you'd be in your twenties.
bold, bitter, brave, better - ready.
ready for the solitary walk,
a lifelong talk with only the voices in your head for company.
ready to dance to the vibrations that distort carefully laid plans.
ready to survive stormy seas on stormy nights
with no lighthouse waiting to shine on.
ready for what's incredible, what's impossible, what's magical;
only not for what's mechanical.
ready to face more no's and less yes's
no heroes and angry villains
but carry on anyway.
ready to say yes when your ego says no,
ready to say yes when your brain says no;
never ready to say yes when the heart says no.
there's a lot we've become in our twenties.
We were young
Okay maybe not much younger
Than we are now
I am twenty two and you are too
This is us currently
And I wonder,
If I was different
Would you love me like I love you?
But damn these questions
And damn your walls!
Remember me now
In love with you
And when we are older
And the lights are going down
Maybe you'll be my side
Or maybe you'll be saying
Damn my walls
And damn all of these no's
And you'll be thinking
About twenty two
"I love you like you loved me
But it got so dark in here
And I wish we were 22, too."
I'm still learning how to fill my body.
Let alone the universe
What kind of space do I take up?
The answer is always "not enough".
On the couch I curl my body
Until I'm camouflage.
I sleep alone on my bed
Leaving room for entire cities
I walk down busy streets
Dodging bodies and buildings
Like I might ignite them.
My voice is a cracked window
Down the street from my soul.
In bright rooms
I dance in shades of black and white
With feet that don't quite fill my shoes.
Yet my poems use the reddest colors of the solar system
On pages too small for my pen