It was just one of those days
when the haze of summer had just started to lull the suburbs
into a sticky heat
of grills and lawn mowers
of air conditioning
(everyone pretended not to use it; windows! barked the mothers, windows!)

and the sweat stuck to the brows
of the life guards
napping in the sun
above an empty pool
the Dawson pool.

No one ever swam there
and the lifeguards knew it
those teenagers, sunning themselves lazily on hot days like this
(and the mothers! They complained about the tans. Cancer! the said.
In a way they were right,
but really.)

The waters were clear but the fences were rusted
the diving boards were falling
throwing themselves off the deep end

Katydids
lawnmowers
those lazy days
and the mothers! the constant nagging of soccer moms
lulled around the pool
on the day
Cassandra
took her
last
swim

Her face was like shoe leather
tanned by no fewer than 98 summers spent on porch swings
plodded slowly,
like  her feet were considering
every
last
step
this woman presented her 5 dollars to the girl at the gate
(some surprised lifeguard, because, you see, no one ever swam in Dawson pool)
and pushed inside.

Cassandra never left her porch.
and the mothers! how they scolded their children for teasing her
(even though they had done the same thing at that age.
That's how old Cassandra was).
Decades of the suburbs
and push mowers
and world wars
stayed like photograph around her face.

The lifeguards stared.
Cassandra kicked off her flip flops and shrugged off her mumu.
In a pink bathing suit she sank into the water.

The age melted off of her as she danced through the water
graceful
strong
the strokes were slow and deliberate
and the lifeguards watched as she pulled herself from one end of the pool to another and back.
She made 16 rings
remembering her childhood
23 more
for her marriage
and then 60
60 rings!
before she stopped.
60 years old, the year her husband died.
The year she had stopped talking
aside from the hushed prayers in church
but she was talking to him; that didn't count.
60 rings.

And Cassandra just disappeared.

No one found the body
no one found anything
aside from flip flops and a mumu.
The lifeguards were nearly scandalized
for letting Cassandra drown
but soon she went from a news story to a ghost
and the mothers! sniped at their children
for whispering
"Did you here about old Ms. Cassandra?
They say she found God."

fools, ,you see ted bunny and ronnie biggs are saying the fools have been trapped in my snowstorm

and in the category 3 cyclone marcia in queensland, nobody listens to the ploy of cronus and barry allan

even if they are trying to keep them safe, and ted bundy who flew around aistralia trying too make

marcia and lam, really ruin australia, and keep these americans trapped in snowy weather, keep kids from

learning, by closing the schools, and cronus with barry allan’s help, was trying to get people to rally together

to make everyone happy, and safe, we can’t save everyone, but we could ****** well try

and then ted bundy said heh heh the fools, thinking these waters are safe to swim in, but ted isn’t shy

he is evil enough to make people lose their lives, we must listen to authorities as opposed for doing the

right thing, you see they call this nature, i call it cosmic attack, a really fierce cosmic attack, nobody can

see the clear sky ahead, in order for people not dying from this sort of thing, and that is, don’t do stupid things

ronnie biggs also is making the category 3  cyclones marcia and lam and a terrible snowstorm in the states

you see these vicious killers are doing more harm here, than they did on earth, they are ruining families

from all over the place, and elvis presley cancelled his neptune concert, to make the jewish messiah daniel

who is his earth body, to think that he needs to start thinking of trying to save people from these terrible

snowstorms and category 3 cyclones, you see, he thinks he is forcing the cyclone probably, but we all know

that ronnie biggs and ted bundy are forcing them, i think this country concentrates too much in celebrating

the jewish messiah’s previous life, and making him sleep like a pack of rich arrogant *****, but even if he

wants to work anywhere, he wanted to get into library studies but instead of that, he is playing all over

the planets, singing elvis is a schizophrenic and everyone seems fine with that, but, instead of looking

at relief web. int, you should help us finish off ted bundy and ronnie biggs evil and cunning plan, to

force the dreadful end of the world, you know what i think, if people listen to lifeguards and not going

out to these fierce seas, the end of the world wouldn’t come, we must pray to buddha, that these people

are safe, so when marcia hits, they are not out there battling the cyclone caused by ronnie biggs and

ted bundy, please, buddha help, cronus ands barry allan battle these dreadful spirits, ,and make the

storm ease, there are a lot of snow trapping innocent americans and all ted bundy and ronnie biggs

can say is heh heh heh, these fools are falling right into my trap

PLEASE BUDDHA SAVE THESE PLACES, MAKE PEOPLE SAFE BUDDHA

MAKE THE SURF LIFESAVERS, WORK HARDER TO PREVENT PEOPLE GOING OUT

MAKE PEOPLE IN THE USA, JUST SIT IT OUT

UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM

ronnie biggs and ted bundy are sitting in saturn club rings saying foolish earthlings

they are falling right into my little trap

lifeguards, free life vests, at least 15 lifeguards, always holding red flotation devices
always on the watch, telling little children to get out of the deep end
to give a rest break, a child looked faint, one guard approached, nothing
forever on the watch, no one gets hurt, required swim breaks,
guarding, guarding, keeping everyone so safe
I wondered how anyone could even cough water down the wrong pipe
here in this fully, totally, completely covered and safe lake and beach

waiting for an outdoor rinse, the screams of terror of a small child and tears
and then whack, whack, whack, and the crying increased and it took me
awhile to adjust, to reframe, that this, a deliberate endangerment, an infliction
of pain, could happen here, in a place so absolutely and intensely safe
but there is was again, the sound of striking and crying and harsh words in Spanish
and I gazed at the lifguards wetting down the sand where they had to walk to cool it
a lifeguard with that perfect surfer boy look, like the ones I grew up with
but again, the striking sound, in the relative darkness of the men's room
and a man followed by a tearful toddler emerged
the man looked like he's just performed a self satisfying act and the boy
followed him like a dog and I realize that
we as children are dogs, little animals who are abused
and follow our attackers home and live with them in order to survive
the man carried no obvious weapon, but I knew what he'd done
to be that two year old child, unable to soothe oneself, in a dark, strange room
with a man towering over him, inflicting pain for some trifle
I wondered what to do, but they walked by and dissapeared into the crowds of
picnics and music and the safe beach, with the lifeguards standing, always holding
their red flotation devices, all eyes staring at the water, the beach
it now did not look so safe at all

I got a lil buzzed a lil ****** but not enough and not in time I’m covered in oceans of emotion I can’t keep up with these tides anymore pulling me out to the brinks in my mind I’ve never been afraid of drowning but it’s the lifeguards putting my head under why did I think I could swim I never should have trusted the ones who taught me should have learned how to breather underwater but I’m no mermaid I’m no better I’m not equipped for this please just let me burn burn burn
I don’t want my turn to win top trophies I never even wanted in the game who told you to put me in I cannot out play you cannot withstand this heat I talk like I like it I don’t mind it I just don’t want to be the center of the roasting *** I’m blocking kicks and getting punched I’m throwing fists they hit the heavens fall back on me liken frozen fury a storm I’ve been living in a game so sick you never make it out alive I try to die don’t choo know the rules I try to die who put you here don’t choo know I’m the underdog that hasn’t won yet

Paralysis
Crippled
By fear
Or anxiety
Depression
Like the gaze of a basilisk
Sinking
Unable to swim
All the lifeguards look like sharks
Manage to struggle in the currents
Further and further
Swimming
Away from the shore
On purpose
People can tell you you're Superman
But when you are your own kryptonite
Why even try to swim
Being crippled
By the basilisk
Its grasp never loosens

he adults new year rave that 6 year old patrick dunbar




in the year of 1945, patrick dun bar’s family were invited to a rave

but there was one small problem they couldn’t find babysitters

for patrick, so, what his parents did, is, go to the department store

and buy a tiger costume that would fit a 6 year old and this way

patrick can’t see the adult nonsense that was around, patrick dunbar

was ever so excited, as he called himself the new year tiger, and

every time an adult walked past him, he went growl like a

really fierce tiger cub, and his bro, rob dunbar also dressed up

as a tiger, but he looked at it as just another tiger costume

when new years eve came, patrick and rob were getting themselves

used to their tiger costumes 5 hours before they left for the

adults rave, well back then they called it, a new years eve party

and the parents said, don’t get too *****, cause their kids wearing

tiger costumes, dressed up as patrick said the new year tiger

was the only way in, and 5 hours later, they all hopped in the car

and their grandfather wore a tiger hat, to joint patrick and rob

and patrick screamed out the window, HAPPY NEW YEAR

and the father said, put ya cotton picking head back in the car

and patrick didn’t listen, and kept his head out of the window

yelling out happy new year, happy new year, happy new year

and in those days they couldn’t control the window from the

drivers seat like they do now, so he kept on driving with little

patrick dunbar yelling out of the window, HAPPY NEW YEAR

about 23 fucken times, and when they arrived at the party, their mum

told patrick and rob to hide inside, pretending your dwarfs, and

patrick said, i am not a dwarf, i am the new year tiger, ya see

in this life, i was a tad isolated, in my room, and there is no way

known to man, how i can figure out a lll this, but, as we walked in

i think the party people knew we were kids, cause dwarfs look different

but patrick and rob played all night, as much as it was fun, and despite

them knowing we were kids, we thought we would be treated differently

cause me, patrick was the new year tiger, and i used the biggest growl

to make all the adults spill their drinks, some drinks stained the carpet

and this really upset the host, and wanted the dun bars kicked out

and patrick dunbar said, i am not a dunbar, i am the new year tiger

and if you kick us out, i will bite ya with my teeth, but this party had 1940s

morals, and the dun bars were kicked out, and went for a walk down the

beach of green bay, and patrickj and robert were swimming in their new

year tiger costumes, and patrick rode one wave in, and said, the new year

tiger is coming, actually the dunbars sat on the beach till midnight, and there

were a great beach parade, of navy and army planes as well as the lifeguards

wearing clown uniforms, and then the lord mayor of wisconsin, cut the ribbon

to open a very colourful fireworks and patrick dunbar went up to the lord mayor

and said, i am the new year tiger, and i will eat ya up, and then the lord mayor closed the speech

there, and yelled out HAPPY NEW YEAR, AND patrick dunbar yelled out

a big HAPPY NEW YEAR too, as patrick dunbar was wisconsin’s new year tiger

GRRRROOOOOOOWWWWWWWL,

i am patrick dunbar, he was my previous life, before greame thorne

HAPPY NEW YEAR

When you’ve asked yourself, “what the hell am I doing with my life?”
Five times before you’ve even had your morning coffee
Which isn’t enough, so you grab a second coffee
Because you stayed up until sunrise writing a lab report on the psychological effects of coffee
They call that an education.

When you stare at screens and sheets of paper
Until Shakespeare’s sonnets and Sir John A. Macdonald
Are scratched into the blackboard on the inside of your brain
Only to have the slate wiped clean
The second your Scantron card spells “success” in Braille,
They call that an education.

When you’re swimming in, shall we call it, the Academian Sea
And tentacles reach out and start to pull you under one by one
And the lifeguards on the shore simply tell you to swim harder,
They call that an education.

I remember walking onto campus feeling so inspired
Ready to be re-wired
Until they said my arts degree would never get me hired
Now the time keeps passing by and I always feel so tired
And for what reason?
I’ve read countless books on history and Hamlet and how to speak Italian yet it seems as though the most I’ve learned is all the different ways I can doubt myself
I am creative, I am well-read, I am kind, I am caring, but I am a history major
And in a place where 3.0s and 4.0s and future capital value is practically etched into our skin for the world to read like a bad tattoo
Apparently that means I’m not going anywhere.
There are so many days when I want my tattoo removed
So people will stop staring at the decimal points and prerequisites that distract from the rest of me and look me in the eyes for a change and see in my smile that this is who I really am

But instead I’ll probably stay up late again
Learn names and dates again
Forget them after the test again

Because when you stare at that sheet of paper if you’re dedicated (or crazy) enough to make it that far
And you cover up your tattoo with your graduation gown only for them to draw your degree wherever enough skin shows to prove to the world that they’ve churned out another one
They call that an education.

forgotten longing
deep custard days gone by
my morning trip: the pool, always
then, to stay swimming in the ocean
favorite lifeguards who never stared me back
boardwalk seagulls, seafood season
shops with time like windy cobwebs
the hotel, our melancholy Ferris smell
that last painful sunburn pizza and
sadder September funnel cakes

vacation

where I now walk alone
crying for dreams past
not just things

With your cool sunglasses
And skinny pales *****
You sit behind the shade
Sour faces great for lemonade
And judge us all!

I fake drown to see your reaction
Off your high horse you fall
To my satisfaction, you're not a hero
And, to think people look up to you?
You're not even that tall!!

Who do you think leads us
When we find it there at the top of the mountain
The sky a sweating forcefield
Defending  an unknowable cannibal society from the rages of brutality
No lifeguards here at the sidewalk hot dog stand
No golf carts swerving in and out of lanes
On a neighborhood parkway
Our footsteps bend back with tension
Where we face a collision course
With a culture three short steps removed
And left to warp and mutate in the lee of the stone
Where sands of time blow sparingly
To the pace of a sputtering tractor motor

love  
dove
bird
hurt pain rain
washing laundry dryer  shrunk
too hot   summer  beach  tanned skins
bikini girls   lifeguards  bodybuilders  
Schwarzenegger
robocop criminals politicians votes
lobbyists corporations   special interests
stock exchange oil price pipelines
pollution profits   leaded water   oily shores
banking wall street   99percent
wealth CEOs distribution education defloration
exploitation union struggle macjobs
Walmart amazon   tax evasion    offshore banking
islands caimans reptiles alligators walruses
snapping turtles  manatees  albatrosses
birds
dove
love

at a pool party to celebrate no drownings
one hundred lifeguards, laughing and gloating
water was splashing, music was pounding
until they noticed jerome moody floating

Call me an alcoholic,
Druggie, ******. I am none of these things.
I have my fits and fiends of wanting **** and wine, but
I am fine.

Have you ever written letters you don’t send?

I don’t think it was really unfair of me, but there were certainly better ways. It might’ve been easier if I’d said no—a jab to alert you of the no-ness—but I wanted to say yes, even though I knew I would possibly say later “I can’t”.

I’ve liked you for a while. I denied it for some time. Even though we dated briefly and it seems like smoke now, it validated the summers we spent together. Even in 2011 I liked you; last year I did and was scared to; this year I let it happen. I couldn’t control it. I saw you and wanted you, I had to; I had you. You were more than summer ******* and we both know it. It was hard to say and acknowledge though, because summer things come up. You’re not like other “lifeguards” I “******” though, and I know I’m not just another lifeguard you ****** either. We’re friends. We were something.

I’m sorry I left suddenly, rashly and didn’t talk to you for a week.. but I know you’re not emotionally weak and you dealt with it even if it confused or surprised you. It was a defense mechanism on my part. I wouldn’t have known how to approach you or maintain a long distance relationship, especially since I’m living with Rachel.. of course you could’ve visited, but it would’ve been uncomfortable once you left and we both know that. This situation has already been mapped out and I think we both knew the outcome of this fall. We’re friends however, well, I actually value you as one, and I would like to see you and hang out. Maybe I’ll hit you up when I’m back in the area—if you want to see me, that it—and as I said, if you’re in Annapolis and want to go out some weekend that’s possible. I wouldn’t even have to stay with you if it were too much; I could hang out with Katie. But either way would be fun, I think.

So I didn’t want a relationship. Yet here I am, trying to communicate and write you… yesterday was weird. I realized an entire week had passed since I left you and didn’t say anything. I wanted to write you. I texted you to make sure it was okay. Maybe you thought it was a bit ****** up or maybe you weren’t phased, but either way I’m sorry I left like that. I didn’t know how else to leave.

Please know, however, that I wanted to be your girlfriend, even if it was just for a little bit of time. I used to think dating you wasn’t even something to consider because neither of us seemed to be interested in a relationship and we are the type of people who don’t usually get attached. I have problems with that. And right now I’m in an awkward situation here because I told Rachel I don’t want to have *** with anyone right now—which I don’t (Salisbury is STD and I’m clean, plus I’m kind of emotionally drained and even though *** is physically fun it brings a lot of baggage.. not that I’m attracted to anyone here anyways but this fall is about ME and getting awesome grades/working on grad application stuff/trying not to lose it)—and she is included in that.

I did have *** with her when I came here though… I guess it was “I missed you,” ***, or “I don’t want to feel with emotions regarding Drew so I’m going to ******* as a distraction” ***, or maybe even “I wonder if we can just have *** as friends without any relationship ties,” ***.. which can’t happen either. She likes me still, or loves me, or whatever. I don’t know how because I’ve been so emotionally distant but I guess she misinterpreted me being nice/being down for *** for still caring about her that way. Between finishing my class, worrying about working and being around her (just her for now, the other roomies should be here next week) I’ve pushed down thinking about you because it was hard to. I remember last year and how it was then, too. Things don’t seem to change much.

Rachel asked about you. I told her honestly. I told her that I couldn’t attach to her the same and that I liked you and I’m sorry I hurt her this summer, but last year she got a boyfriend and I had you.. then I left and she still had him and I wasn’t sure how you felt, but I met Ben and when I realized it wasn’t the way I perceived it to be in my head she was there when I was alone and vulnerable. It took her a long time to admit she liked girls but I’m over it with her, honestly, even though I find her sexually attractive.

When I talked about you, however, she said she would get whatever needed to satisfy all aspects of my bisexuality.. but I told her there was a difference in the way it feels to be with a man, and I thought of you—your warmth, strength and ability to excite me with such passionate heterosexual compulsion.

My mind is so ****** right now. Both of you are part of my past and present although it’s different. I’m not going to sleep with Rachel, and I’m not around to sleep with you (not that you would anyways—although I’m not sure you wouldn’t if the moment was right) so I’m not going to sleep with anyone. *** isn’t always just *** and I am in a situation now where I’m being influenced by feelings and ****** ties and I don’t want any with her. I think about you, though, and it’s easier because I’m not around you but it wasn’t very long ago that I was. I guess I took it for granted. It’s really over now since I’m not coming back to PMSI, but it at least made me happy that I could validate the way I felt towards you. The last boyfriend I had was three years ago, and, besides Rachel, I haven’t been in a relationship. It’s hard for me to like people sometimes, and I don’t know if I can like anyone fully.. that’s why I didn’t want to try with you, really. I didn’t want to lead you on or give you expectations of how our long-distance relationship could’ve been, but I want you to know that I still like you and will have to eventually get over you, but I am going to let time do that instead of distracting myself with other people—that’s what I used to do.

You told me once I was a void you were trying to fill.. I don’t want to be that. I want to be a piece that something can be built on; I want to be an experience on which you can reflect fondly and acknowledge that, although brief and often unclear, was real. You influenced me, shaped me and changed me, for the better, I think. I think we’ll always be cool and I’d like to keep in touch and see you.. but I understand that things may not be as casual regarding the way we act towards one another.

Otherwise, things are okay. I’ll have two jobs this fall, five classes and hopefully a bit of time for chill activity to maintain my sanity but I don’t want to be with anyone here. There’s no way I could. Rachel asked about us.. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it with her. I don’t. I hope she moves on but she’s in her room currently hanging out and I’m doing the same. It’s nice to have time alone to think. I can’t help but feel bad for her.. but feeling bad makes me accessible to her—which I need to stop.

No one ever taught me not to stick my hand in a fire, I just learned by common sense;
but here I am again, grasping for you and watching my hand blacken and burn.
Because every time you say that you don’t know what to say,
I want to call you a liar because you just spoke.  
But being speechless speaks louder than words and
the absence of sounds swallows me whole  
until your fire was all I saw and like a fool, I reached for it again.  
But as I did, in the darkness I couldn’t see that my paper heart
was starting to burn.

We all grew up too fast, pushing through pull ups and graduation robes as if they could be worn twice.
We learned that excuses and “I’m sorry”s could be said again,
but that didn’t undo the damage already done.
Now the angry redness of your ears matches the redness of my future and I can’t help but wonder how I could’ve messed this up so badly.
But then I remember that I have a PhD in impulsiveness, poor decision making, and panic attacks.
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions,
so down I lay cobblestone after cobblestone until I reach the gates but I never enter.

Who needs hell when I have your fiery red hair and temperament
that develops into a burning rage that scorches my skin with silence, when I’d rather be slapped with sinful words that PG movies don’t allow. All I can say is that I tried, because that’s what we all do in this world; we try.  
Try our best, but fail anyways because success is for those who get lucky and this world is nothing but a game of chance with lottery tickets costing you more money than you will ever win, but we believe that there must be some essence of luck in our lives because we keep buying tickets.
She thought she was lucky.  She thought that in an oceanic timeline, surrounded by blue, that she had found a brown boat, brimmed with buoyancy and broken dreams that you shared.
She climbed into that boat, and side by side you sailed neither of you realizing that you were sinking.

That is the thing about the boats in which we sail, even when we assure ourselves that they will never fail.
In this world, we all have our own ships, but the trick is that these boats can only hold one passenger.
She had her own boat once.  She lost it, in maritime madness, one reason or another.  
When her boat was swallowed by the sea she started swimming, trying to keep moving. Sink or swim they say.
So as she swam, she spent all her energy and instead tried to tread and keeping her head above water was no longer a game that you played in summers spent at the shallow end of the pool.
It became a constant question of survival.
She must’ve been lucky, for your ship sailed by and
picked up the poor girl who then became a passenger of someone else’s vessel.
This boat was worn, and her captain had tried to patch the holes but as the two sailed, the ship began taking on water as they went.

When training to be a lifeguard, they teach you quite a few things.
Mouth to mouth resuscitation(which sadly is no longer actually mouth to mouth),  first aid, CPR, and how to pull a drowning victim from the water.
When people drown, our instincts kick in and we grab for  anything to keep ourselves above water and breathe.  
We don’t mean to hurt anyone else in the process but we just keep fighting for air.  
Sometimes the people push their rescuer under and even though we may try to hold them up, if we don’t breathe too we’ll drown!  
So what lifeguards are taught to do is if they are being pushed under
is to shove the victim off, swim away, and save ourselves.
Now some may say that sounds selfish and how can we do that when we’re supposed to be saving them, but we can only save them if we’re alive.  If we can breathe.

You told me dating me was like a breath of fresh air,
because when you were with her, you were held under for:
1, 2, 3, 4…10 seconds, 20 seconds, 30 seconds, 45, 83, 104, 255, 1013… 63,072,000 seconds - TWO YEARS.
So of course, I understood why you swam away.
Away from the girl who broke your boat because being drained of energy was something I used to do to others.  
I ****** the acid out of batteries and I walked on power lines, licked light bulbs, and suckled sockets because I too was once a drowning victim and but I hit the water was shocked by the electric energy that I had drained from him and it was hell.  
The hell that I had laid cobblestones too, the hell that one day I might see you in, because we’re all sinners here.  
We aren’t human if we don’t make mistakes, and ****’t I’ve made mine.

I fell from the ship and sank until I hit rock bottom, which was  somewhere right between a razor blade reef and pill popping plankton. It’s funny how solid rock bottom can feel beneath your feet, because we’ve been on our boats or in the water for so long;
but you can’t stay down there no matter how badly you want to
because your lungs are screaming for air so you push yourself up and struggle for the surface.
The Marianas Trench is the deepest point in the ocean, and I’m pretty sure that’s about where I landed.  
And I’m sure that if it wasn’t for a difference in timing, I would’ve seen her at the bottom too.
But that’s the split between me and her, because right now I’m back in my own boat and I’m breathing in fresh air but she’s gasping for a breath. She’s struggling to breathe but her lungs keep taking on water.

This doesn’t happen to just her and me, but there are hundreds of thousands of people out at sea.
Some decide to perform a self mutiny by mutilating their minds and jumping overboard and the truth is that not everyone makes it!
Some open their mouths underwater while screaming for help
but instead their shouts are choked out by the salty ocean that surrounds us all that we continuously mistake for our own tears.  
Some people are smarter. They wear life jackets, while the rest of us
use others as life rafts until we figure out how to rebuild our boats and I’m here to say that you can.
No, it’s not going to be easy. It’s never easy.  
Learning to swim wasn’t easy. When you first learned to swim you thought you would drown then, but you survived didn’t you?  
If Jack Sparrow sailed the sea, so can we.

So here I am, breathing in and I’m floating on,
trying to teach others that mending their ships is a pain but they have nothing to lose and so much more to gain.  
And there you are and if dating me is like breath of fresh air and you're fire, do I just continue to let you consume my oxygen until I choke on bitter words and stutter on sentences that I can’t spit out?
Sure my boat has holes in it and sometimes, the patches break;
but I have found that letting water in just isn’t for me so don’t plan on using wooden scraps of my boat to light your fire anytime soon because I know that even though this ocean seems vast and never-ending, we are all sailing somewhere.
Hopefully, we’ll get their soon.

There is an overwhelming amount of danger in his eyes. And there is something not quite right about the whistle around his neck. Lifeguards are meant to save lives. To care for those who cannot care for themselves because we all need a little help sometimes.  But he never took the help, and to this day he will kiss you so hard your childhood memories will surface to the top of the ocean inside you.  
Because his song is algae growing at the bottom of the ocean and you must drown just to listen to it. And as your screaming surfaces, no one hears your struggle because he is the only lifeguard. With that whistle around his neck.
It’s almost as hollow as he is.
But when I came to Rose Mary in the fall I didn’t know that. Maybe I would have in the summer, but as the seasons remind me I must keep changing, he always stayed behind. The lifeguard that spent all day under the sweltering sun remained cool as ice. Maybe even cooler.
But this isn’t about him. It isn’t about me. This is about the people who are as hollow as the bottles we drink. Because we don’t ask each other how our hearts are anymore.  And I have to sleep with a nightlight on because the darkness reminds me too much of the bottom of the pool in Rose Mary that resembles the outside corners of his dangerous eyes.

When we arrive at the beach, the oppressive sun has
begun his slow, creeping descent towards the gap in
the dunes where, if one stood at the very crest, he
might see the swampy bay, tufted in tall, thin grass
and dotted with ospreys and cranes. I carry a bag
depicting a bastardization of the American flag, and
he tugs the narrow mesh cart with cartoon wheels across
the flesh-toned sand. The crowd of hungry beachgoers
is thinning, and the lifeguards have just begun to lug
their tall wooden stand back from its perilous proximity
to the gentle breakers. I walk just a few paces behind
my father, until he stops, asking, “Is this a good spot?”
I nod, never before remembering a time when he
sought my approval for a seaside roost. After ******* our
umbrella—blue-green, as though reflecting in canvas
the fluctuating shades of the mutable Atlantic—deep into
the cool sand, and setting the two chairs firmly in its chilly
shade, he asks, “Wanna swim?” Again, I nod, stripping
until I wear nothing but a mint green bikini and sunglasses.
Leisurely, we stroll towards the small waves and wade into
the just-right water gradually. Subconsciously, I am again
just three or four footfalls behind his frame, as if I cannot
continue any deeper until he has tested the sea, and each
step forward is a promise that everything is okay,
and I may proceed with caution.

Our steady immersion suddenly releases in me a torrent
of memories. I see myself, maybe seven, planted next
to him on the beach, where the sand is only just damp,
digging holes with our hands so that a small pool of
icy liquid slowly emerges, and then cupping the sand
and carefully dripping it along the edges to create a
system of fortresses and castles melting in the breeze.
I see him explaining to me, age nine, the proper way
to bodysurf, and I feel once again a sudden fear that
the salty water will fill my nostrils and cause that
choking burn that I detest to this day. I remember
him laughing that hearty guffaw as I was, invariably,
thrown from my boogie board in the aftermath of a
particularly large wave, skinning my knees against
the broken shells dotting the rough ocean floor. I
hear his careful instructions about the proper and
improper behaviors when ****** into a rip tide—
swim horizontally, he’d say, and if I didn’t understand
the word, he’d clarify that it meant to follow the beach,
because following the sea was certain death.

When our waists have just begun to adjust to the
temperature, I overhear the father of a girl who is
about the age I was in these memories exclaim that
a pod of dolphins has come quite close, and upon
looking, I see their gray bodies slithering in and out
of the deeper water. I nudge my father and point, and
we both marvel at this rare occurrence. Thousands of
seconds pass, and this time he is pointing off in the
distance, saying, “They’re still hanging around. Must
be a school of fish or something.” When I ask him if
he knows why they are within swimming distance,
he tells me confidently that it must be due to the
water’s unseasonable warmth, and I know in my
heart and in my brain that he is correct, as usual.

After the dolphins have disappeared, I say that I
am done swimming, that I want to start the Marquez
tome weighing heavily upon my conscience and that,
besides, we shouldn’t leave our valuables alone for
too long. He simply shrugs, as if to say, “Why would
you want to get out of this ocean?” almost as though he
didn’t realize thievery is such a common occurrence
at the Jersey shore. From my haven in the shade, I
feel goosebumps emerge as my father’s shirt deepens
from heather gray to taupe. Before leaving the
house our family has visited every summer for over
a decade, I borrowed his brand new headphones—he
was so excited to tell me that they don’t knot—and
their bulbous coverings, when stuck in ears on a
windy beach, create the sort of howling found in
1970s horror movies, my own personal FX. Despite
the fact that I have just surpassed one quarter of a
century in age, I still see him, a few years past the
half-century mark, turn around, squinting, until he
sees me safely planted in the plastic chair, as safe
as a father could hope his oldest daughter to be.

A young boy, 7, and his sister, 10
Drowned today...so sad
At a time when young folks memories
should be the best they ever had
On a sunny summers day
Swimming out to far from shore
They are the newest of the lost
So far this summer, there's been 4
The lake is known as Erie
Known for not giving up it's dead
It's a small lake but decieving
It's a lake that sailors dread
An older sister was their lifeline
No lifeguards on this beach
One was dead while in the water
The other, almost out of reach
No graduation for these children
Weddings none, and children too
In Erie's depths their lifeforce lingers
The lake don't care a lick for you
the sand bar goes out quite a distance
Dropping off, it's cold and dark
The current there will **** you under
Like a shark attack without a mark
The next day the beach is open
Still no lifegurard on the shore
What will it take to have them down there
You have to ask, how many more?
Two souls were lost in Erie
A young boy 7, his sister , 10
A family torn asunder
This must not happen, not again

I was furious, completely screaming in the car at the "alcoholics" who dared to have a wine festival
in the park, and blocked off the swimming pool where I intended to seek endorphins, relief
from the painful thoughts that my head was swimming in, the anger, rage at my soon to be X job.  
Today was graduation day, but I was not there to smile with other teachers and administrators I hate
and I couldn't do it, luckily I don't teach seniors
Absolutely enraged at the quietly joyous celebrations around me,
the happy smiles, and blissful walks people were having heading to the festival,
I sought out a lake I had heard of where I could derive some endorphins from a that swim
My phone GPS lead me to a dead end and a dusty trail, beyond which lay a fetid green pond a glimpse of a larger lake, so I set out with my 50 pounds of swim gear, along the dusty path behind a housing development cursing and raging against the world.
And then, a beacon, a parking lot and cars backed up and I was there

I've never swum in a lake before and it was cold, and I couldn't see where I was going
I saw no fish, only green dusty water and some dead looking water plants
but the swim served it's purpose and I wandered back to shore as a water creature
walking to a strange new world
I boldly put my towel underneath the lifeguard tower and lay as the lifeguards
kicked sand onto me, and I read "All Quiet on the Western Front" on my phone
I began to feel as a soldier must feel, that my little comforts, the shade of the life guard tower, the book, my over stuffed bag as a head rest were the supreme comforts of life,
And when I bought a heaping pile of Nachos and the guards kicked sand into them,
I continued to eat and swallow sand, and save them by my head as I read.
In and out of the green depths and I noticed the people around me, mostly not white, mostly Mexican, and one girl, with long black hair who was one of those girls that make me understand
how men can fall in love with us.  She was so beautiful, so perfect, with white skin contrasting with the black of her hair and clothing and if I wasn't straight, I would have been smitten
She was with a rough crowd however, and later I saw her, standing around the back of the bathroom, looking so vulnerable, a priceless flower among tough, although stylish characters
no good will come of this

I became drunk with the sun, and on my way back, I was again imagining a speech I'd give to my oppressors, in my alter ego Southern accent.  
My feet were hideously dusty, but the way back was clear and when I arrived home,
I realized, graduation had come and gone, and I was safe and one step closer
to freedom

When you're lost with no destination,
Conflicted as to which is the "right" path,
And trying to be proud of where you're coming from,
You begin to feel like the whole world is fighting you.
But unfortunately,
You hung up your gloves what seems like years ago
Because you knew that all fighting gets you is a mouthful of blood

The tears you'd promised yourself you'd hold in drip down your fuming cheeks.
So, you take them.
The punches, that is.
Why?
Because you deserve them
Or, at least you feel like you do…

Maybe it's because the pain is the only thing you're sure about anymore.
Or because you've blown away every last wish you've ever had with a dandelion.
Because you are legitimately invisible to the one you love so much it hurts
Because you make yourself invisible.
You'd put a bullet through your throat.

Either way, you take each individual blow.
You choke on it.
You can't breath.
You're drowning... above water.
I'm sorry to say, but all the lifeguards are too busy saving those who's lives are worth it.

But, why isn't yours "worth it?"
Shouldn't it be?
Well, they don't think so.
Who are they?
I think you should ask them for yourself…
But they'll never confess to who they really are.

They are the judges, the critics.
The world to put it simply.
They claim you're the one with the issues, but you know that it's they who need rescuing.
You're both drowning.

But, they push down on you in order to float
Because that's how physics works.
You're both gasping, lungs burning,  living but wishing you were dying.

And you pray.
Because praying is different than wishing.
Dreaming.
When you pray, you know there’s absolutely nothing left that you can do.
It’s out of your power.
But, where is your God now?
You pray to something you can’t see or feel, but you can’t afford to wait.
You’re done.
It’s not up to you anymore.

And that’s when the little white pieces begin to fly.
The little white pieces of you.
The little white pieces of your soul.
They rise, as if victorious, and float up to who knows where to do who knows what.
You don’t know.
You’re done.
But the feather wisps of your soul are carried away
Along with you, and what you were to become.

__The waves pound against the sand
The heatness burning against my heart
People talking
Listening to music
Waves splash on the shore
At its maximum volume
Salty bubbles form
Kids surf
I see yellow, pink, and blue boards
Lapping on top of the waves
Elders drink punch,
Children eat sandy sandwiches,
Babies build their masterpiece sand castles,
Lifeguards look out,
And I'm shouting about,
"Go Montauk!"

Yesterday was the last day of Summer
September rain pounds like the inevitable drummer

We planned on scaling the Shenandoah mountains just before sunset
our calves aching and our hands clenched tightly yet
intertwined with each other
inhaling the rich color
lamenting how it disappears behind the horizon to forget

We talked of driving along that scenic Smoky mountain byway
stumbling into a local diner off the highway
the first expedition to fathom
sleeping in that rustic cabin
breathing in dying cedar embers as we drifted away

We intended swimming that final night at the Lakes pool
diving under the water when lifeguards whistled their final rule
pretending that we could not hear
trudging into the car with dripping gear
leaving behind damp seats as concerns for some future fool

But there was the appointment about the lipoma
and the tele-con with the customer in Tacoma
opportunities come slowly but hasten to pass over

Today is the first day of Autumn
We should do something in Autumn

too many people taken by sharks, immmmmmm, we need to get the coastguards to guard

every beach on the ocean immmmmmmm please give these people who lose loved ones through

shark attacks, counselling immmmmmm help stop the sharks from attacking immmmmm STOP STOP STOP

calm the sharks, immmmmmmm try and discipline these australians, from getting eaten alive by sharks immmmmmm

please tame sharks, immmmmmm please tame sharks, immmmmmm please tame sharks

too many people are eaten alive by s h a r k s, immmmmmmm eaten alive eaten alive immmmmmmmmmm

please save people, have more boats on the water ummmmmmmm  to tame each shark ummmmmmmmm

help the people get saved by sharks in the ocean ummmmmmmm save each other lifeguards look after us ummmmmmm

THE SHARKS ARE DESTROYING OUR COUNTRIES POPULATION

THE SHARKS ARE DESTROYING OUR COUNTRIES POPULATION

THE SHARKS ARE DESTROYING OUR COUNTRIES POPULATION

ummmmmmmmmmm     ummmmmmmmmmm      ummmmmmmmmm ummmmmmmmmm

The ocean, of deep blue mysteries,
Sways in a crushing pool of wonder and histories.
Full of life, larger than small,
The fish swim together, one and all.

It stretches further than the eye can see,
The ocean is entirely free.
Waves that crash on the rocky outcrop,
They will never not move, they will never not stop.

The Ocean gleams off the bright sunset,
Sharks that lurk beneath, propose a threat.
Seaweed dangles beneath the broad sea,
Seagulls sway above flying in a spree.

Lifeguards rest on the shore ahead,
Crisp sea air blows against their head.
Dolphins, Squids, Seals and more,
Wait until you hear the whale’s mighty roar.

I love the ocean; it’s beautiful to me,
I just hope you see the same, I plea.

~ Ommm ~

I'm attempting to find inner peace on the top floor
of a down town community hall.

                   ~ Ommm ~

I can hear the anxious siren of an ambulance;
its tone stretched out by the sound waves
that fail to keep up.

                  ~ Ommm
       Focus on your breathing... ~

For an apparently relaxation endorsing pose
right now I feel very uncomfortable.

                  ~ Ommm
       Look towards your inner eye.
       See the beam of bright, white light shine
       From your third eye.
        See the bright light...  ~

I can't see it, are there special opticians
For people who can't see through their third eye.
Maybe I don't have a third eye...
Oh no, I don't think I have a third eye!

                  ~ Ommm
         Focus of your breathing...
         Focus on the bright light
        radiating from your inner eye... ~

Okay I think I've found it, is that it?!

          ~  You should follow along
               towards the golden temple,
               Step forward.
              And with each step
              focus on the feeling
              of the fresh, green grass
              beneath your feet. ~

My right foot has serious pins and needles!
Don't think about it!
Don't think about it!

        ~ Your left foot is your Karma,
           Your right foot, your Dharma
           With each step focus on the feeling
           of the fresh, green grass beneath your feet... ~

My Dharma has serious pins a needles!
Ouch, ouch, ouch!
Don't think about it!
Don't think about it!
                              
                            ~ Ommm ~

I need to move but I don't wanna disrupt my zone of inner peace.
Ouch, ouch, ouch!

                      ~ Step into the pool
              and feel yourself melt within it.
         And lose the sense of having ****** form
                 Float into the nothingness.

                   Drift off into the water...  ~

I wonder if there are inner eye lifeguards
For the little imagination people who can't swim.

              ~  Focus on your breathing ~

Pins and needles!
Ouch ouch ouch!
Maybe if I wiggle my toes a bit...

       ~ Gradually come back to the sense of having a body.
                 Feel yourself being bought back to life.
                                  You are re-born. ~

Re-born?! Well, if you say so but
My right foot is proper dead right now.

                             ~ Ommm
                   Keep gently breathing... ~

And now I better brace myself for
the many uncomfortable, complicated poses
that we will manipulate our bodies into...

                             ~ Ommm ~

That distract us temporarily from the manic metropolis chaos
that's buzzing right outside the windows.

                               ~ Ommm
          Stretch out and breathe in that beautiful prana ~

The dusty air, choked with car fumes
and the diesel engine hum of the noisy dockyard nearby.

                                 ~ Ommm ~

THE SHAKS ARE THE TERRORISTS GETTING THEIR OWN BACK ON THE SOUTH COAST


YOU SEE WHEN THE TERRORISTS DIED, THERE IS NO WAY KNOW TO MAN THAT THEY

AREN’T GOING TO EXCEPT DEFEAT, LIKE A COWARD, SO THEY INJECTED THEIR SOUL

AGAINST BUUDHA’S ADVICE, TO BRING SHARKS CLOSE TO BEACHES ON THE NSW NORTH AND

SOUTH COAST, YOU SEE, WE NEED TO GET RID OF THESE SHARKS, BUT THE TERROSIST

SOULD IN THE SHARKS WON’T BUDGE, YEAH THIS IS THE WAY TO TRAP AUSTRALIA

BECAUSE THEY LOOK AT IT AS BEING A FORCE OF NATURE, SO HEAPS OF TERRORISTS

WHICH ARE DEAD, YOU SEE THE HEAD TERRORIST IN CHARGE OF THE SHARK ATTACKS, IS

OSAMA BIN LADEN, SAYING AUSTRALIANS ARE SO FUCKEN GULLIBLE, YA KNOW WITH ALL

THE SHARKS, IN THE WATER, THEY WILL STILL SWIM OR SURF IN THE DANGEROUS WATERS

AND THEY MADE THE SHARK ATTACK THESE AUSTRALIANS, AND EACH AUSTRALIAN WAS

TRYING TO FIND WAYS TO GET RID OF THESE SHARKS, BUT OSAMA WON’T BUDGE

AND NONE OF THE OTHER TERRORISTS DON’T BUDGE EITHER

YA SEE OSAMA BIN LADEN IS COMING TO THE NSW COAST

YA SEE OSMA BIN LADEN COMES IN THE FORM OF A SHARK

OSAMA BIN LADEN, GETS IN THE MIND OF TWO PEOPLE ATTACKING SOMEONE IN PYRMONT

AND ALL THE TERRORISTS ARE SITTING SIPPING METHANE SMOOTHIES

ENJOYING THEIR SOULS ATTACKING THESE GULLIBLE AUSTRALIANS

CAUSE PEOPLE SHOULD LISTEN TO THE LIFEGUARD, I KNOW IT’S FUN TO SURF

BUT WE ARE LETTING THE TERRORIST SPIRIT WIN, THEY ATTACK YOU NEARLY DIE

THE SHARK ATTACKS, WE NEARLY DIE, OR DIE, TERRORISTS WIN THE WAR, IN 2014

AND WE STILL LOOK AT THIS AS BEING ANOTHER LIFE THE TERRORISTS SPIRIT HAS CLAIMED WITH THE SHARK

OSAMA BIN LADEN, IS FORCING THE SHARK ATTACKS

OSAMA BIN LADEN, MAKING THE AUSTRALIANS ******

OSAMA BIN LADEN IS KILLING US ONE BY ONE

IF THE SHARK IS THERE DON’T SWIM OR SURF

JUST TO MAKE YOU SAFE, AND CALM THE TERRORIST SPIRIT

LET’S TAKE THE SOUL OF THE TERRORISTS OUT OF THE SHARK

AND MAKE THE WATER SAFE TO SWIM OR SURF IN FOREVER AND EVER AMEN

THE DEAD TERRORISTS ARE WINNING WHILE WE DON’T LISTEN TO PEOPLE’S ADVICE

LISTEN TO LIFEGUARDS, AUSTRALIANS

Kool-Aid and hotdogs as our standard fair ,no shoes same shirt close cropped hair.

No more sitting in order or lunch on a bell, switch dropping pencils to using crayons for a spell.

Crossing guard gone, now an old couple on the porch, they don't yell mostly just stare.

Soon flies as busy as the girls & boys,not idle but  running wild, spring  rain ,inside Hell.

Greening grass yellow dandelions, bothered by bugs brushing it all off without little care.

Awaiting the nearest pool or a wash in a river ,lake or pond, Lifeguards sitting on a citadel.

Burning red replacing winters white peeling skin but still a grin not understanding despair.

Patriotic dues merely a muse , really want the fire crackers & smoke to wish America well.

Fishing & wishing ,frogs at night catch our sight ,lanterns create patterns with the stories we share.

Birthdays & Sundays keeping us clean Long enough to recall when we return to alphabetical personnel.

New clothes & now shoes no longer we muse ,Dad always taking us for the last summer cruise. :) R.C.

What am I doing with my life?
At this moment in time,
That is a very legitimate question


I myself, rarely if ever know.
I tell myself that I am going to college
So that I can get an English degree,
And teach English,
Until I am able to get a permanent position in lifeguards.

I mean, honestly,
Who goes to college for that?
And is that even the truth?

All I've done recently,
Is drink myself stupid
And make an *** of myself,
With women and the world.

I miss the rain.
Running around and laughing because the puddles
Made our white clothes see through
But in that moment we didn’t give a single ****.
Because in that moment I swear I was infinite.
We were all. Infinite.  
The smiles on our faces were so big and so real.
The tennis courts were soaked and the clay ran from one corner to the other.
We ran around those courts like little children, holding hands and screaming with joy.
Its so amazing how well I remember that day.
It feels like a movie I watched on repeat for 100 years.
Just like that the image is crystal clear.
Every moment, every second of our summer I can replay in mind.
Because every minute with you is like a fairytale.
And why remember reality when there are fairytales.
Singing, painting nails, golf, music.
Every minute, every beat we all missed.
When we messed up no one made fun of the other.
Because in our minds the artist got the lyrics wrong, not us.
The dances were stupid and fun and full of laughter
No one ever hated the other because we are friends.
And real friends don’t judge one another.
The worst part of this though is sometimes I think I wont find anyone like you.
No matter how hard try; it will always be destiny that brought us together.
We don’t need alcohol or drugs to have fun.  
We just need each other.
Because every day is a new adventure with you guys and ill love you forever.
Walks on the beach, staring at the hot lifeguards…
it all seems fake, like it was to good to be true.
But the rain.
Thats what I remember most.
Because even on the saddest and cloudliest days of all days we had fun.
We took the earth for what it was and accepted it; we loved it.  
Thunder shook the clouds above us.
And we began to laugh even louder because in that moment death wasn’t an option.
We enjoyed the rain, almost more then the sun.
If the sun shined every day wouldn’t you get bored?
Wouldn’t you want to feel the rain on your skin?
At that moment; we were invincible; we were one with the rain.  
Summer 2o13

I never learned how to swim,
And now I'm drowning in my thoughts.

My ears are full of water,
My side is cramping up.
The goggles you gave me are foggy
And my lungs are shriveling up.

I feel the water in my brain,
Swirling around my thoughts.
One moment I think you love me,
The next, you love me not.

And maybe if I learned to swim,
Maybe things would've worked out.
But I guess we'll never know,
My mind is now full of doubt.

But even great swimmers
Sometimes need help.
That's why there's lifeguards at the Olympics
Alongside Michael Phelps.

But I never learned how to swim,
And I'm drowning in my own thoughts.
But you said you would teach me,
It's too late, I'm seeing dark spots.

So let me sink to the bottom of the pool,
Where swimmings not important anyhow.

I knew
His reputation
I’d been warned to stay away
Anyone but him
He cycled towards me
Blue eyes, blond hair and a smile that lit up my day
We were lost together
Yet I felt perfectly safe
I didn’t listen to the warnings
I fell
But he swept me up and I flew
Through luminous clouds and hurricanes
Experiencing highs and lows I never had before
Until that inevitable day when he left
And I landed in a puddle of all the tears shed
And I swam to my lifeguards

Every time we went to the pool
You mocked the lifeguards
For their hair and the way they applied their sunscreen

I bet you thought that was funny
Until you drowned

Fourteen never tasted you
But I still need you like a crutch
Like something to keep me afloat when I feel like
I'm drowning

You see, the pretty, skinny girls
The ones who are allowed to fall apart
Pieces of you they exhale
Leave a solemn marker on this saddened planet.

You see, pretty skinny girls
The ones who suit anorexia so **** well
Wear a pretty shade of starving
And cry themselves to sleep within stark hospital walls

You see, pretty skinny girls
The ones who don't take up any space
Praised for their alternative music and long socks because
Hey.
At least they're alive.

Do you see how different we are.
We are the freedom seekers who never get justice
We are the ones that got left behind
We are the ones who's diagnosis didnt fit
Simply because our numbers didnt
Into the category of deathly

I need you like a crutch
Because nothing I have
and nothing I am
Quite equates to their criteria of needing help.
No matter how quietly i whisper to you under bedsheets
Or scream it out to my father, those three words
That are already hard enough to ******* admit
no
no.
They are still.
Still.
Not enough for you.

I need help.

Fourteen learned to roll cigarettes when she was seven
But made an oath to herself of never ever
but now she needs a salvation

It's like I've been fighting the ocean for long enough
Finally decided c i cant fight alone anymore
Yet the lifeguards only saved the one who was visible in the sea
Oblivious to the fact fourteen was on the brink
Of drowning in her own tears.

Fourteen looks up to the sky and counts the stars
Like marlboro lights she counts the flamed atmosphere
Wondering how life could get worse than this.
And she waits for something to come
something to save her
A helping hand or a speeding car
Lying in the middle of the road often carried that risk.


She's in love with him and its a ******* tragedy
She doesnt know if shes too much for him or not enough
She's being abused and its a ******* tragedy
She doesnt know if the bruises shes acquiring are just in her head
She's losing touch with her friends and its a ******* tragedy
She knows they arent paying attention.

So what more can she do
But dream of feeding herself to the ocean
A current in place of a current affair and
A slow and fulfulling peace.

Fourteen stares at the sky with the
soft ripples of sand beneath her feet
counts the stars like marlboro lights
takes a breath, and gives herself  
One
more
chance

I knew then that
something was wrong
with me.
I knew when I scribbled
sweet nothings on lined paper,
words of longing and regret
so dark I couldn't believe
they flowed from my pen.
"It's just fiction,"
I claimed but a faint
tugging at my weak
heartstrings proved otherwise.
Summer of 2013 hit
me like an angry tsunami,
ripping everything I loved
away from me
in a split second,
agonizingly alone and
left with far too much time
to contemplate things
beyond my control.
The littlest of things could
send me into a crying fit,
a single broken memory
knocking me on to my back
in one fell swoop,
unaware that I
had begun digging
the hole I was trapped in
long before I fell into its depths.
Not six feet under,
not yet, hopefully never,
but three feet at least,
shocked realizations
facing clouded mirrors that
I HATE MYSELF, and
everything I seem to represent.
It’s incredibly frustrating to
push and pull at a way
of life that won’t collapse;
to WANT so badly but never
RECIEVE.
The worst part is seeing the
others, somehow enjoying
being 15 and powerless and
stressed and consistently
worried. Then I remember:
that’s only me, I’m the only
one that’s drowning, and I
ignored the neon sign that
read “No Lifeguards: Swim at
Your Own Risk.”
I knew something was
wrong with me and with
barricades raised I could never
pinpoint exactly what it was.