Yuck
Not again
I'm failing
For yet another
Time

Walls collapsing
Mask disintegrating
Voice disappearing
Smile vanishing
Thoughts muddling

Grip is
Loosening
Throwing me back
Into that ******
Pit
I fought so hard
To climb out
Of

My strength is
Depleting
I don't think
I can make that climb
Again
Or at least
Fight that
Monster
Suppress it
Squash it
Ultimately
**** it

My control is
Slipping
My tongue is
Sharpening
My voice either
Booming
Or vanishing
Evil thoughts
Rampaging

I wish it would stop
Where's my will
When I need it
I need it back
To climb
To talk
To smile
To fight
That
Blasted
Side

I can run
But not for long
It will catch up
It has already caught on

And nothing
Already
Matters
Anymore

I'm sorry for confusing you so,
Trying to restate what we both already know,
I did hesitate,
Now I must contemplate,
In an inwards form that I can't show.

I'm sorry for muddling your mind,
Overstepping the role I'm assigned,
But you know you're my friend,
A bond that can't end,
Because I can't ever leave you behind.

I'm sorry for jumping the start,
For causing a reason to part,
I'm sorry for jumping the gun,
Leaving you to run,
And being an ephemeral part of your heart.

I'm sorry for acting so rude,
For not stopping even when I was cued,
And even though this list,
Is not full of my mistakes that exist,
Here is where my apology must conclude.

Lost again, or maybe I
just never truly found my way?
I never feel sure that I am
heading in the right direction.
Instead, my heart and my mind
continue their endless battles.
Will I ever win this internal war?

Will I always have to continuously
question myself, or will
the answer ever become clear?
Should I just keep muddling through
each day with really no end in sight?

Times like this challenge even
my own strength.  Do I
want to continue feeling like
this each and every day?
I thought I had the answers before.
Now, I am definitely not so sure.  

Behind my own smile lies great pain.
I have learned to cover most of it;
however, my eyes tell all, as they
are the window to my soul.  
My heart is kind, loving, and generous.
Yet, I feel that it should be much harder,
so as to not allow some things that
I have acquiesced over my life.  

I am not sure what it is going
to take anymore to help find
my way back to the correct path.  
I just know that this beaten one
is all I have known for so long now.
I am truly lost….

Vicki A. Zinn
November 24, 2013

we abuse our
most precious tool
the human psyche

misuse the recognition of patterns
in inane sameness
epiphanies of apophenia
misguided musings muddling
our addled minds

wasting brainpower on
fantasies of deities rather
than scientific discoveries and
emancipatory philosophies that
could liberate us from the
miasma of modern life

inquiry is free

I would crush the guilty like ants under my boot
I would build monuments of their sins and watch evil legacies tailspin
I have had enough of their moral muddling and murderous marauding
No more innocent blood will be shed, not on my world
War will be a fable told to children before bedtime
Those with hate in their hearts would have them forcefully removed
Those that have worked and toiled in pain will be given rest and reparation
Empathy will be the currency most desired and dispensed

I would seat the deserving upon crystal thrones and indulge their hope
I would slit the throats of those that speak violence and scatter their flesh
I have no desire for solace until all have received their karmic doses
Fear is an instrument of weakness, a **** fit for vermin, not my society
I'll make a great scale within my mind and weigh deeds done
Good people deserve more than the flimsy vestiges of past charity
They will see my face and recognize that swift justice is the only solution
They will see an acceptance of death if corruption overtakes my spirit

I would raise the slaves and groom them into kings
I would turn their ancestors’ sweat into red wine and diamond rings
I would lift their chins up to the limitless sky
To infinite empires waiting to be built
This world?
This galaxy?
Ha!
The entire universe will be a reflection of my design

The sounds of color buzzed of rhythm and blues
muddling my thoughts around psychedelic tapestries of saxophone.
Our hips shook in figurines
connected by a tight rope of invisible waves
as the sounds of color echoed through colorless boney hips
and sunk into restless souls.
Her moaning had ceased
and so had his heart ache
as we danced a silent disco
before the artwork of a distant time -
outsiders stood in silent shock as we danced
until their headphones
buzzed on cue
and they danced along to the rumbling tide of poetry;
how strange it is to write poetry about poetry.

I'm off to Planet Aspergia!
See you guys later!
I'm off to reign with dinosaurs
and immerse myself
in the laws of physics,
brewing of chemistry,
the mechanisms of biology,
and the fantastical world of numbers!

I'm off to Planet Aspergia!
See you guys later!
I'm off to a world
where toe-walking is the norm;
and ****** expressions are meaningless, lost.
Words aren't muddling:
No more sarcasm,
no more metaphors;
and no more misunderstanding!

I'm off to Planet Aspergia!
See you guys later!
Where I'll bury into my obsessions:
dinosaurs and infectious diseases,
here I come!
Goodbye, everyone!
Hello, Aspergia!

They tell me I'm bipolar
I'm not sure what that means
other than my life is ruled
by council run care teams
They tell me to stop cutting 
They tell me not to jump
I'm quite surprised they don't take notes
each time I take a dump
They worry I'm too happy
then panic when I'm low
at this point my emotions
have nowhere else to go.

They say I'm schizophrenic
and part of me agrees
The other part is not so sure
and screams at all she sees
They say I'm not "engaging"
as I sit here on my bed
but engaging isn't easy
with these voices in my head.
so they fill me with their poison
in many coloured pills
Some to cure the side effects
but none to cure my ills.


I am not a list of symptoms
I'm a person brave and true
but life dealt me it's harsher cards
so now I'm muddling through
I wish you'd seen me better
before all this took hold
I wish you'd heard my laughter
when I was free and bold
Most of all I wish you wouldn't judge as you walk by
or give me sympathetic looks with deep well meaning sighs.

In the end we're all just people
struggling on this mortal coil
some bury feelings deeply
while some bring them to the boil.
The moral to this poem,
for I know this much is true
all walks of life have lingered here
Someday "I" might be " you".

When is your birthday
I only wonder when so I can wish you the best--
each  year you may not ask me to show up at your door,
but I will gladly surprise you with a cupcake and a smile.
Maybe a card that randomly says way too many things;
muddling the message that I really was trying to say, you are special.

Not only today is your day, but today is more your day than anyone else--
That while I celebrate when you came to life,
I also celebrate your struggles and I celebrate your victories.
Cheering, screaming, and chanting for the public to know, today, is yours!

I will gladly burn down any building with the candles from your cupcake--
Because you are getting older, but **** it, it's tradition.
I have to pack that cupcake with 24 candles,
even though they stopped looking good at 16,
I could have gotten smaller ones, but I keep buying the same pack every year.

No matter who you are, I will bring the cupcakes--
just accept that while I attempt to ****** you with diabetes
I'll also be showing you to the whole world around us,
so don't be shy, because it'll only give me more ideas for next year.

He's most blessed
who could leave behind
his* muddling mind
he's then at perfect rest.

You enchanted the moon, didn't you?
Maybe you promised her a star or two?
She hunts me with Orion's bow, pacing behind shadowed cloud,
My celestial stalker ridin' low, wanly wrapped in misty shroud.


She whispers stark, yet soft as a breeze-blown tune,
Press on, my pet. You've done so well, we'll sleep again soon.
But we've a fortnight to go if we're to come full circle by month's end.
So many dreams still to sow...To reap those lupine howls once again.


Serenity to insanity, delirious depravity to moon-magicked majesty,
A cosmic clockwork cycle muddling my mind with lunar gravity.
She pushes me to frenetic furies then pulls me to solstice solace,
She masters tides in her caprice, what hope has a malcontent apprentice?

Here I've been singing
Songs for my bleeding soul
Can't you feel my morality leaving?
And now I'm struggling
On heartstrings I'm dangling
And emotionally muddling

There I was, running
My gold armor scuffing
Soon I'll be trusting (forgive)
Soon I will rust
My soul will join the dust
And maybe that's enough

An overwhelming feeling
under-
whelming
Seeping into my veins
slowly
bleeding
Corrupting my brain
ringing
whispers
Muddling my sight
dim
lights
Corroding my soul
draining
time
Until I am overtaken
Glazed
eyes
By my loss of will
Where
Loss of might
Am I?
Sans all

Deathline, trapped, burdened, crashed, crushed
Locked up for hours muddling thoughts of escape
The sun, the bright freezing sky, dark blue churned up ocean topped with white caps
like moving whipped cream
I dream, from my claustrophobic place
Pressure cooked, mind squished, must I say this again and again
Finish. Burden lifted, fantasy of floating away
must stay, mind locked into treadmill, rolling out producing
breathing stale air, mind in a tunnel, through muddy darkness

The concept of a whole person is an enigma that evolves within a culture . Often it is not a transitive concept and can only be conjuncted within it's social setting . In fact the realities of social fragmentation make most all concepts of a whole person universally inapplicable .

Literature is often a good tool for developing an understanding of a culture and it's inclinations . In a cultures folk tales , plays , and fictions you find authors making a deliberate attempt to portray the basic dramas of their society .

Greek myths are a vivid example of this ; they are literally frought with characterizations . In their development these multitudes of characters weave into an elaborate tapestry that depicts the developing Greek moral ethic . The intricasies of the analogous content are brought across in a multitude of forms . Names were very important and a major force in clarifying the concepts being presented . The multitudes of characters portray a multifaceted understanding of the human psyche . The chauvinistic banality of their culture and it's gods is graphically depicted against the backdrop of their developing ethics .

It is difficult for a modern man to construct a vision of a whole person from a strictly ancient Greek point of view . The obvious anachronisms envolved make such an attempt partially ludicrous . Contrarily the bulk of their characterization paints a vivid picture of their primative social state .

Of course while the Greeks were muddling through the multicolored quagmire of human frailty many societies where learning to master the powers they had developed through centuries of strict adherence to religious and social mores . The development of their socially biased realities make many Greek nuances seem decadent anachronism . Rather than deitizing their baser natures as the Greeks had thay had learned to master them and turned to new paths to clarity . Spiritual pragmatism and lack of comunication nullified the social attributes of many of these extrapolations on positive orientation .

Jung preaches that man has an innate need to assimilate all external sensory perceptions . I find this untrue . In fact I find it self abortive . Human beings have a complexity factor that is individual and must be protected from overload ; man's moral ethic is a tender and deludable feeling directed by empathy . In the hectic world of modern mass media this tender individuality can become dwarfed by the percieved need to obtain social acceptance . Whole civilizations have become deluded by the flow of their complexities into an outright denial of their moral ethics .

I find this partially estranged condition prominent throughout social history . Children are brought up to respond to a vast realm of presupposed social ideologies and are not allowed to venerate themselves until much of their conscious matrix has been established . This of course makes self evasion an easily attainable goal . Sometimes politically speaking the actual goal . The mind satiated by it's social framwork is the ideal tool for a socialistic or tyrannical government .

To me the value of social history lies not in it's application as much as it's illumination . All the fragmented pockets of human coalescence should instill an understanding of man's posibility factors . Man's inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his annihilation .

Modern man has learned how to use tact in instilling the acceptable social mores . Solviet psychiatrists have spent years on perfecting these social sublimations ; children learn how to make their personalities conform to the accepted mean . I think that the true nature of a well rounded being lies in an ability to reject the fragmental nature of these instilled mores and develop a more universally acceptable social orientation . Does the son of a ku klux **** member have to hate blacks ? The obvious answer is no ; contrarily socially acceptable orientation is a product of environment . This is the pitfall of man's evolution as a race ; his inability to rise above the quandary of his immediate surroundings with all of their overwhelming complexities and demands to become a cognizant and empathetic being . There in lie the keys to his future .

This does not necessarily define the well rounded person . A well rounded person must be able to cope with his immediate surroundings withoutan abject denial of his empathetic being .

I believe well roundedness lies in thoughtful orientation and a well centered understanding of self . One need not be socially active as long as they are thoughtfully cognizant . Obey the golden rule ; you can not allow your objective orientation to supersede your subjective empathy . You can't allow yourself to be thwarted or overcome by your peers into being something they might want to make you because temptation may overwhelm them and you will become a transient tool in their succession .

Shrugging your words
You left, racing away on your bike
While your curfew chased you down the road

Gone in the blink of an
Eye,
And often I wonder
Why?

Semi-tragic chords
Mixed with your words
Build harsh, dissonant sounds…
Words that often assured me
In times of doubt and misfortune,
Such that plagues me now,
Muddling my words…

No entiendo
Your intentions
No entiendo

I am in love with gray sky mornings. They make me wish I sang mezzo-soprano. They make me wish I had a distinguished streak of white running through my hair. They make me wish I held all the wisdom I will ever possess, but with the sprite heart and energy of a 10 year old wearing worn out sneakers. Gray sky mornings seem to represent a middle world, an in-between plane of absolute sweetness and impending doom. But not the scary apocalyptic doom, rather the powerful, majestic and mysterious kind of doom. Gray sky mornings are the worlds way of saying hold your sunshine anecdotes of beauty and bliss, beauty is much too complicated to be confined to only the obvious blue bird scattered skies. Beauty is in the messy, the transitions, its in the muddling of good and not so good, its is the unknowns, the half-ways and the try and try and try agains. Beauty is in the grays.

I built you a home in my head
and in it I waited for you
day and night.
I wandered the many rooms I gave to you
and sat in the many chairs I set out for the waiting.
I watched out the windows of my eyes.

I decorated it to welcome you, and only you.
Every piece of furniture and hanging frame
was chosen so when you arrived
you would want to stay.

The light came and went,
I made sure it hit the rooms in all the right places.
Our kitchen was bright in the mornings
and the library glowed orange at sunset.

You didn’t come
and so I waited.

The weeks swelled into months
and seasons came and went.
In the summer it was airy and cool
the doors, propped open for you,
brought in the scent of grass and lemonade.
In the winter it was warm and quiet,
and smelled of cinnamon like your hair.

I waited and watched,
and you didn’t come.

Years rose and set like the sun
and the house grew dusty.
Paint peeled and the color lost its luster,
tired from years of expectation.
The walls settled and the floorboards creaked,
asking for you when it was only my steps.

The bed sagged into a frown
when I climbed in alone at night.
Even the windows grew cloudy,
muddling the light and obscuring my vision.
In winter the wind shook and it groaned with aching.
Still, the house was warm
and smelled of cinnamon like your hair.

Still, you didn’t come.
Still I waited.

One morning in midspring,
when the open windows brought
rose-scented air to rouse me from sleep,
I felt my bones were too tired to sit up
and resume the waiting.

The bed heaved a sigh in my loneliness,
curling around my aching joints and wrinkled skin.
I stayed there all day, listening to the house call for you
in all its creaks and groans.
It sounded tired like me.

I watched the way the light shifted from morning into afternoon
and finally to the peachy-purple haze of sunset.
Then, in the moment between twilight and night,
the house was quiet.
The light lowered below the windows
and all was dark.

A memory came to me
of a home I had built
with many rooms and many chairs.
Who it was for I could not remember
but its emptiness echoed through the halls of my bones
until my heart grew tired of waiting and finally
stopped.

Dyslexia, mixed messages
Everything so confusing
Susceptible to misusing;
A 'B' becomes a 'D' instantaneously
And screws things up simultaneously.

A short trip from insanity to inanity.
Fiscal confuses with physical
Turning laudable into laughable
So quickly eyes can't disguise
Whether one means the skies
Or perhaps one means this guy's.

If read, confusion and contusion
Seem like quibbling over siblings
But things like read and read
Only different when they're said
Take un-signalled turns in the head
And instead come out backward,
Which should be spelled backword.

Muddling and confuddling resides
Issuing thundering broadsides,
Rendering and sundering any
Blundering inadept ineptitudes
Like some kind of garbled beatitudes.
Some take hostile attitudes.

Wheedling and wheeling away
Beetling and saying it wrong;
Maybe a song can be written
And some tongues can be bitten,
Taken aback by words taken back,
As the Raven said "Never more!"

The world is losing
Gravity,
But no one can escape,
We're hurtling on our petrie dish
In a gel that seals our fate;
Gravitating
Towards black holes;
They're closer than you think.

In China
There's a wall of dust,
Seen clear from outer space;
Our living waters die
In a legacy of disgrace.
We're citizens
Wearing masks;
We should hide our faces,
But we're running daily tasks.
We're fossils burning
Fossil fuels
Found in cremation gas.

The amphibians
Are on the fringe;
Whales can't sound,
They run aground.
It's an environmental slaughter.

Our world has lost
Some gravity.
We need to plant our feet,
But  charnel fires
And greenhouse gas
Have hastened our retreat.
Migrating birds lose sense of time,
Confused by the lights.
The mourning dove coos at night,
The nightingale at dawn;
We're like
New turtles muddling,
Under lost starlight.
We must grasp
The gravity
Of burning
Burning  light.

~for the one who will know it was written for her~

muddy verb and adjective,
muddling and muddled

have you ever seen a pas de deux/deluxe,
one dancer, proscriptive,
and her partner, prescriptive?

the stage, of course,
exactly the width of your head,
from ear to shining ear

this couple o’muses dance en concert,
though their very natures are anti-logarithmic,
the value of their exponential activity is a
descriptive nomenclature

I am overly abstruse this Saturday morn,
mushing mathematics and ballet, verbal word games
as is my wont wanted,
everyone sleeping while I rise at 6am,
doing ablutions, seeking absolution,
pulling weeds from our respective gardens,
answering old friends I have yet to meet,
to whom I answer,
“still here, though long time no see,”
which is of course hysterical funny, inherently contradictory,
as the brain grasps well my
Red and Dead Sea brain cells, a splitting motif

muddling and muddled,
proscribed from getting on transport,
to deliver to you the proper healing prescriptive,
as if I had in my possess to diagnosis and correctly assess

even though one of my many passport names,
a requirement, to visit,
this inter-netting ether, that both combines and separates,
permits me safe passage,
over the historical lineage of borderlines of land and sea,
to deliver this message,
to you
woman

I am here, waiting patiently, though long time no see like ever,
absentia, dementia, both self-censure,
here, then, my cadenza,
dedicated solely soulfully for you,
as the sabbath sun rises over the East River,
saying, laughing unto me,
“still here, though long time no see,”
for though I cannot look upon her, my sun, my sun,
yet she, as well, is everywhere-inside of me,
warmly illuminating my muddled mind

By : Nabs

At dusk, I woke up to find that my whole body alight with pain
From the very tip of my hair
To the very tip of my toe
A pain that struck me deep as it is rooted in me

My head feels like it is not my own
Where my thought are filled with images
Where they took every single memories
Just to replay it over and over again

Although it is some specific memories that they play

( I should have known it was you)

They are images of you
Either the way your eyes disperse the light
Glinting with rainbows as you laugh
Or the tingling of your voice when you speak

Or the little quirks that you have
How you scratch your head when you're confused
Or how you tighten your fist and hold it close to you when you are in anger
Or how you look pained every time someone mention your father

Even my subconsciousness was not safe from you
How in the nights you seep into my dream
And how my mind seem to speak your name with reverence
As if you are a saint and i am a sinner begging for forgiveness

Not to mention
My head feels like it know you more that I know my self
How my consciousness remember every single way your body move
How you react
How you never seem to notice how breath taking you are

You do take my breath away, you know
You make lungs constrict
My throat sore and my windpipes clogs
My chest ache

Just from seeing you brush a stray strand out of your face

( No wonder I always choke)

I know now that you are poisonous
Because often you made my mind sluggish
How you made my tongue numb
Struggling to just say something

I feel like I could die from just being in your presence

Some how, I wouldn't mind that

You seem to have taken over the control
Of the beating of my heart
It is not mine anymore
You took it from me

And i'll let you do it any day

How do I not realize that you poison me?
That you attacked me

No

I couldn't say attack when I, my self are a part of perpetrating the crime

I let you poison me with your kindness
And I succumb to it
Kindness is very lethal I find
Very potent

You are causing an infection
Spreading across my heart
Making it rot
The stench is cloyingly sweet with a hint of pain

I think I know what poisoned me

You make my heart a bruised little thing
Banging across my rib cage
Sometimes I can feel it to thump so hard
I wonder if there are fractures littering my ribs

It is a miracle I do not get a stroke
With the way my hearth clenches
Every so often just by a single word you said
No matter how un important it is

There is something growing inside my body and I know I am diseased

I'm going to be erratic soon, at the rate this is spreading

The rate this is spreading

Why

I know you planted some seeds inside of me
And how it is growing in my body
The pain is caused by them
How it is thriving alive, and ******* me dry

******* life out of my marrows
Making me prone to bend and break
To bend and beg
For you, I would do it in a heart beat

Why do you do this to me?

You do not intend this for me
As I do not intend to succumb in the first place
But intentions will always be intentions
If we do not manage to realize it

One of my symptoms is butterflies in my stomach
How did the caterpillars get in there?
How did my stomach turned into their cocoon?
It does not feel beautiful, the butterflies in the making

They feel like acid and agitation

Now I am trembling

You make my whole body quake
My bone to ache and shake
It is as if you made them corrode,
Maybe that's why my knees shake just because of you

How it will always tremble
How you make my hands tremors
How psychosomatic it is
And I seemed to caught this sickness right to the bone

Maybe I tremble because you are more than I can handle

You with your kindness
Your attempt to become normal
Your fear of closed space
And how you would unconsciously scratch the silvering wound across your heart

Maybe because yours do not rot, you infected me and rotted mine instead

( There is something wrong with my eyes)

As i said, not only that you have took over my heart you also took over my mind

I seemed to still do not mind

My whole body is trembling
My lips quivering
I feel my eyes are watering
I feel my temperature rising

I feel horrible and yet I do not mind this pain
This high fever I am in
Comfort me some how, even if i know that
if I do not get well soon this might **** me

If I do not get it treated, it will **** me

But I am still hesitant to cure it
I do not want to be diagnosed
I do not want to
I do not want to

I am infected

(There's something trying to get out of my stomach)

I am trembling again
And you saw me trembling
You saw me
You smiled, and a snip could be heard

There are a string broken and it might me my sanity

Why do you deny that there was an earthquake
Why do you always deny that
Why
Why

Why do i still got close to you despite knowing
That the episentrum was you

You are a natural disaster
An epidemic
Spreading disease in your wake
You couldnt help it

No one could help being them self

You know I feel pain all over my body
But sometimes the pain felt so intense
That it renders me numb
How do I still exist in this paradoxes of mine

( I fear my liver have stop trying to purge this toxic away)

You make all my nerve go alight
I feel like i am burning
Ashes, ashes is what left of me
I have nothing left of me

You burned me down

But why do i feel so cold?

Yet, I do not mind
Because even as my heart is aching and in pain
Even if my whole body is black and blue
My body is not mine anymore

That was your betrayal, wasnt it?

(At least i still could bask in your presence)
You made me betray my self
(Such exquisite pain you cause me, i want more)
Why do you keep smiling as if you know nothing?

Maybe you do not know anything

(My legs just gave out and I am on my knees)

The poison is muddling my mind
I am poisoned
I already said that
I am trembling again

The butterflies got out of their cocoon today.

They were beautiful, and red with my blood

I still do not mind

You betray me
You causes pain to me
You poisoned me

I still do not mind

You smiled again today
It was like my medicine
I feel like i am addicted
You smile like you were happy with the way i am

I fumble with words now
There is something wrong with my eye
I cannot see clearly
Everything is blurry and tinted

(You said my eyes were beautiful)

I was happy but now I am sick

Why

My legs and hand do not properly work anymore
I feel like someone just pierce giant big hooks in them
Because i keep being pulled
I keep going back to you

My body is not my own, it is infected

You poison me and then you put parasites didn't you?
I was fine
Did you think your poison was a cure?
I did not have anything wrong with me

I did not
Now i do

( I can feel my mind crashing down, it feels like freedom)

The fever is going up again
My words are hazy
My arms taste sweet
I feel disoriented

Why do you need my to be like this?
Wipe that smile of yours
Wipe it
Please

(Please)

I am addicted to you
Your whole presence
I do not mind
What do i not mind?

I am sick, i am going crazy
You drive me crazy
You infected me and you rot me
I still do not mind

(There are tears dripping down my eyes, it is black)

I do not mind

(My heart just gave out)

I just diagnosed my self today

There is a paper thin difference between hate and love

I think it is the latter

I am such a liar

Muddy Muddy Monday

Cold air
Cold glare
Lurking on a window that shields our felt insecurity
Summertime we all come to
We all come together then unravel apart
I am a man for a short bit then I quit
And retire
Retire to regimented round the clock lonesome longing of money and a schedule, scheduled schooling of sorrow
Growing up I,
I'm utterly useless
I’m painfully plain
This become the real repetition
The depiction and depression in the U.S. Of A
It's simple
And simply it's dull and sad it's melancholy at its finest
And this carnivorous cancer grows calculatedly sneaking steadily and processing with prowess
And Lexus lingers after Lexus near our neighborhood of suburban sadness,
Sorrowful slumps stuck in sand
Succumbing to ******* the life out of myself muddling through murky days
And this depressive digression into normal no-thing-ness that does not know nothing
But private school privilege pressuring me till I press my heart and it pops
Mundane money Monday murdering my mind mother and might
Monday each day
Becoming Monday
My mothering Monday
My absent adolescence

checking potent aftershock
observing seismic anniversary
checking another tremor
resuming constrained writing

annexing hidebound constituents
hugging incoming eschatologies
fighting pervasive insomnia
battling invasive fatigue

damning incompetent fools
awaiting furtive escape
abandoning corporate wasteland
summoning celestial syzygy

detesting spaghetti code
protruding riparian dolphin
establishing unilinear escritoire
glowing cybernetic cynosure

avoiding eternal invisibility
supporting valued customer
performing lexical gymnastics
scrooping notification sounds

restoring usual happiness
glorifying darkwave fanfares
collapsing old relationships
raising ambient awareness

defining wolf people
propagating yesteryear's spectre
achieving hemispheric virality
testing weekend legerity
installing iron curtain

propagating today's spectre

developing niche audiences
transmitting abstract propaganda
disappearing thought experiments
overusing various condiments

double-checking hyper-real emotions
rubbernecking celestial explosions
observing splendid holiday
exploding volcano day

erupting bucolic mountain
disrupting hectic shouting
perfecting suggestive triptychs
checking festive pyrotechnics

drifting across multiverse
regifting glossy paperwork
writing six-lined hexagrams
liking two-toned instagrams

recalling pygmalion sculptures
brawling tatterdemalion cultures
"rambling corporate shill
rattling rapid prosody"
"battling hamburger hill
ambling hundredth library"
"sensing ideological schism
pending guttural neologism"

glowing verdant background
foreshadowing palmyra takedown
developing geopolitical mess
geminating quasi-couplet stress

"hugging cultural diversity
shrugging irrational adversity"

distancing spooky raindrops
avoiding potential burnout
implementing lexical databank
approaching crash-scene sudser

becoming increasingly selective
escaping tyrannical bureaucracy
perpetuating cut-throat capitalism
purchasing contrived happiness
incorporating chance elements
relaxing rigid structures
reheating your retweet

holding theoretical design
smiling beach life
scrutinizing eternal simulation
rushing artificial apothegm
annexing facetious document
freaking creepy centipedes

writing neural structure
congratulating yestreen's warriors
encouraging seatbelt usage
boosting abstract setting
sensing frivolous ochlocracy

keeping hypothetical metropolis
blurring metaphorical æsthetic
scrutinizing computational festival
memorializing towel day

raising six-fingered paw
eternizing fragment schedule
liking subtextual repository
quoting quintessential quidnunc

finding ideological style
disregarding their slovenliness
planning spatial factoid
spinning glacial ellipsoids

enjoying eternal spreadsheet
deleting repetitive tweet
awaiting festival lineup
gainsaying unethical startups

observing turgid experiment
contemplating conniving contrivances
enjoying dynamic project
dropping two-toned simulation
finding harmonic space
finalizing warring cavaliers

detecting enigmatic apathy
retrieving potential exchange
meddling middling muddling
baking hypnagogic pizza

spinning galactic dinosaur
building trans-pacific partnership
finishing theoretical mission
giggling agog googlers

crashing atypical tessellation
cherishing precious hexagons
proliferating western lottery
cretaceousing funkaholic skeletor

blurring turgid gallery
cancelling tsunami warnings
extemporizing incoherent neologisms
transmitting harmonic rave

gliding black hawks
hiding quacked ducks
archiving animated light
googling moonbow imagery

ignoring relatable messages
observing unfinished world
generating optional content
continuing exponential growth

We left on the excuse of
Wanting to listen
To
"Just one song".

But when we arrived at the place
That kept us from the outside
We decided to go ahead and drive

And I've never had a smile so big
I was actually scared
My face might rip

And I could die
Or we could drive off a cliff
Or smoke a laced spliff
It makes no difference to me

As long as you're around
Even if that means muddling through
The week
In our seperate towns
Until one of us can come down
For the weekend.  

And we're too loud
But it's only because we're used
To trying to bridge the distance
With a vocalized insistence

That we'll find a way back
Even if it's back roads and red eyes and runny noses

I know how it goes
And I've chosen to stay
When I would usually take the easy way
I'd be out and gone
But we're leaving together
And with you
I try to do less wrong.

Last night
one more song
Turned into a vulnerable
Sob
And awkward consolation
Turned to snot on my shoulder
And the comfort of
Human warmth.

I would address how we should go forward
But I know it doesn't matter

I'll see you again
And you'll catch my spinning head
And I'll hug you
And hug you
And never get enough

Sweet thing,  
You're the good stuff.


12.20.14 cem

Sometimes, I look at you and I can't speak.
Once in a while, it's because I'm marveling
At what a work of art you are.
Now and again, it's because
I want to hold your hand.
Occasionally, it's because I want
To feel your arm around me.
And once or twice, it's because
I want to kiss you.
Mostly though, it's because
I start to feel like I'm dying.

There's something that stabs into me,
Twisting my heart
And muddling my mind.
That's usually due to a couple of things.
One: I miss you more than I can explain.
Or two: you forgot about me.
Sometimes it's both.

I know you never really forget about me,
But it feels that way.
We're sitting five feet apart
And you don't look my way once.
I challenge myself not to look at you for a minute,
Then two or three, four or five.
Because every time I glance your way,
You're laughing at something someone else said.
Another person made you smile.
You're so wrapped up in other people
That I slip your mind.

And that's totally normal.
It's to be expected.
I know it's weird,
And it's probably wrong,
But I think about you all the time.
I wonder what you're doing
And how you feel.
I hope that you're doing okay,
And that you're thinking about me.

Sometimes when I get upset
I want to see you so badly.
Want to talk to you,
Hear you say my name.
Hear you say that it'll be okay.
That always helps.
To feel your hand on my shoulder
Or even better,
To find myself wrapped in a hug.
You have the power to make things better.

You matter to me a lot,
And I know you so well.
There's always a joke to be made,
Or a smile to be shared between us.
Those times are the best.
But then, sometimes
I look at you and I can't speak.