"roomates" poems
Last week, Cortney moved into a four story apartment
with seven twenty-something year old roomates, all boys.
The men share the first three floors.
while Cortney has the enire top floor to herself.
I spent the night there saturday night.
And around 10:00pm
a twenty-three year old boy
Blonde, baby faced, named Kevin Smith
stumbled drunk into Cortneys penthouse room.
Kevin smith removed his pants, and crawled into bed with us.
Kevin Smith nuzzled into my face, pulled me close, and rested his hand,
firmly on my ***
Kevin Smiths breath smelled of *** coffee, (and a man who regularly brushes his teeth.
Good Job Kevin Smith.)
At first, Cortney and I assumed Kevin Smith was each other.
after further, mostly-unconcious, inventory of our limbs,
we gathered this was neither the case, nor a hallucination.
Cortney flopped dryly for her cellphone and shined it's light at Kevin Smith.
"What the **** Shouted Cortney.
No response from Kevin Smith.
"What the ****
We got out of bed and put clothes on,
laughed at how ridiculous it was
that a drunk stranger just grabbed my ***
while an unconcious Kevin Smith laid in Cortneys bed.
Kevin Smith sat up
"This is really telling. I uh..."
Cortney cut him off
"Get out."
As she turned on the light.
"Can you guys call my phone?" Asked Kevin Smith,
"No." Said Cortney
Get out of my room."
physically pushing Kevin Smith out of her room.
Cortney held up Kevin Smiths drunk zanax filled body on the stairs.
preventing Kevin Smith from otherwise falling down said stairs and dying.
Kevin Smith showed his appreciation by saying,
"High fives all around"
I watched Cortney strattle drunk Kevin Smith awkwardly, yet also motherly
down the stairs.
I leaned over the railing and high fived Kevin Smith.
"I just want you to know," mumbled Kevin Smith
you guys are my friends.
You don't need to.. I got this".
"No, you really don't" said Cortney,
"if you fall down or throw up on me
you owe me $20"
Cortney delivered Kevin Smith to his bed.
Kevin Smith mumbled something, and Cortney returned upstairs.
"What the **** Laughed Cortney.
"What the **** I replied.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** and moan
about us drinking all the milk
that you didn't help pay for
and then drink each last beer
that you didn't help pay for
while the guy who bought them and got to drink none
is busting *** at work
making him able
to buy yet more things
for you to take for granted.
With friends like these..
By the way,
where's the last few months' rent?
You know, for all the months sense your parents stopped payin' it?
Oh, I'm sorry,
I didn't mean to assume
that you would assume some responsibility
like the rest of us
to whom you ceaselessly complain
about how un-fucking-fair
your spoiled ******* brat lifestyle is.
You can't even keep a plant
you want for personal reasons,
so how is it even fair to assume
you could get and keep a job?
How foolish of me!
At least you can roll a good joint
with **** you didn't acquire
and papers you didn't buy.
A ******* professional, you are.
By the way,
that soldering iron
you neglected to leave the house to pick up
would be ******* fantastic to have,
but even a walk half a mile to the post office
is too ******* strenuous
for you.
By the way,
do you want ants?
Because your heap of cans, bottles and dishes
is a great way to get ants,
but you get all vindictive and indignant
if anyone tries to clean "your space"
in my ******* house
you haven't even paid to live in
for many months.
While Money is far from everything,
and I wish it was a non-issue,
kindness and good intentions
will not even begin to pay
the bills, the mortgage
or these exorbitant Californian property taxes;
and, even if they did,
I fear you'd still fall
rather short.
Perhaps-
no, not even perhaps:
I've been far too nice far too long
to people who couldn't be ******
to show some ******* respect.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Something about being 151 miles from home
walking around barefoot all day
in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, California
wearing a vest and some black cotton pants,
drinking good Cabernet and lots of water,
eating homemade pasta salad and chicken sandwiches,
in the early-Autumn Summer-esque temperatures,
the third day of the 2013 Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival,
witnessing Gogol Bordello and The Devil Makes Three,
with my great Friends, and also Roomates, Abdul and his Wife,
and their friend and her 20 month old Son
makes me feel sort of ... *****
Funny how that works;
Unprotected feet on very Public grounds
Unprotected feet on verily treded grounds;
Going barefoot is nice, though.
(Except the ******* sidewalks, incidentally.
Even the streets are nicer to walk on barefoot. Even pineneedles!
I am disappointed, San Francisco! I thought you were on the side of the hippies!)
If anything was learned from the Sixties,
it's that unprotected anything
in San Francisco
is easily a hazard.
-
Now, that was a ******* amazing day.
Now; to the shower and then directly the **** to bed!
Away!
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
I am the bobby pins and hair clips you find in corners of your room, on your dresser, or behind your bed.
I am the pictures on your wall that I made when I was once manic.
I am the crumbs you find in your bed that was once my “three or four nights a week bed” which I used as a table.
I am the cafe where we met, and kept meeting.
I am day drives to no where.
I am the Middletown train station before the movies.
I am the mint lotion that keeps the bugs away.
I am the notes I would leave you, that found their way on your wall.
I am the bandaids.
I am that strand of medium length brown hair you will find in your shower
I am that guy, from trivia at that other cafe, that I wanted us to be friends with.
I am the hands that would unlock your locked pointer finger.
I am that key on your key chain.
I am the leftover tea that is always too hot for me to drink, and is left near your bed.
I am ice cream with CHERRIES, and edamame.
I am the sheets on your bed.
I am the downing film theater when you needed to feel better.
I am New Jersey.
I am the reason Netflix recommends Independent dramas with strong female lead. I am the netflix.
I am the stain on your mattress.
I am the drool on your pillow.
I am the sugar in your cabinet above your roomates whiskey.
I am all of the groceries and dates I paid for.
I am all those pictures of me on your phone which made their way to your computer.
I am the light wash boyfriend jeans.
I am that bottle of wine that sits with all other bottles, that you see when you walk out of your room and into the kitchen, and out the door.
I am the reason you once felt content.
I am the reason the corkscrew sits on that stool.
I am the reason why your toothbrush is wet, before you use it.
I am the two red sharpie marks left on those sheets that I got us.
I am mexico. The trip to mexico that could have almost seemed doable.
I am the sent of oils which remind you of hippies.
I am the shoes left at your door, or the teavana jug of tea in the kitchen right now.
I am the fourth of July. I am that pool we never swim in. I am the projected films on the fence.
I am the talker, the thought keeper, the fighter, the writer.
I am Sensual Amber
I am UBE
I am my legs on the wall when I dry them.
I am the tiny pills on your dresser.
I am just someone your next girlfriend will be better than.
I am the bobby pins.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 3:53 PM UTC
I had split in parts.
I lifted my hand but
it was not me
I spoke words but
it was not me
I existed but
it was not me
I split in parts and
there should be dialogue
between roomates
but I was so terribly frightened
to bother them again
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 2:00 AM UTC
The neon kisses the sidewalk below embracing strangers as they pass
in all directions none seem towards home.
***** sidewalks and the slums splendor Im a gatekeeper of despair and hard
luck just living for the bells chime to echo from the counter.
Drunks and ****** gather within my confines the outcasts of the night my people
seldom will I ever know more than a signature upon the page.
Moths drawn together attaracted by neon light.
Tommorows not a promise so embrace feeling and grow numb in reflex for now.
Are we not twisted from exposher numb from the streets brutal truth?
I count the hours a television for companion a bottle a often short staying vistor
who's welcome till the hangover's regret.
Some pills to drive my thoughts and a fresh *** of coffee to fuel my engine
tIme kills even the most unfaded of us all.
And through the night they gather some to escape the cold others for a quick escape
or fast **** to forget as if in a Halloween costume soon they'll return to there true act
of a life.
Embrace as lover's when there nothing more than roomates hey kids were doing great
you coming home for Christmas this year?
And so they like well trained actors reprise there roles.
But i see there mess allnight I collect the rejects nothing more but fragments
glass that reflect what they wish could never be.
If only we could rewind.
But life's highway cant be retraced so on we roll.
I collect there money and take down there names the keeper of memories
tattered wings fly none the less.
As for the women the far away stares are but shared thoughts of a misery
more bitter we drink from the same passed down glass.
Some things just don't have to be said to be understood.
The nights my watch my vices fuel me for yet another round.
the neon signs my beacon And the moths glide to flame with the turning of the switch.
Were all ****** up but seldom can some show the flaws .
I embrace them unspoken please sign here.
Tommorows walk we'll pretend to not see for we all need to feel
invisible sometIme.
The end of my shift bids farewell to my collected chaos tired we've become in constant
recollection the light is off for now.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 12:53 PM UTC
I’m a tightrope walker, strung between
the hedonistic abyss of winter break and
the unforgiving canyon of organic chemistry.
The stack of spring syllabuses are a prophecy whispered
in Latin. The story they tell haunts my dreams - wherein
each biochemical is a monster lurking in the shadows.
“I’m not in a tailspin, that would be unfair,” I tell Lisa, “I’m in a lull.”
“It’s like that awkward time, between a hangover and drinking again.” she laughs.
Sure, I envisage late, week night study grinds, and sleepless
hours, but the price of serious things isn’t trivial - success and hard
work are, unfortunately, yoked together, like Shakespeare’s double shadow.
A tough spring curriculum won’t stop me from
taking 3 or 4 minutes to dance with roomates
when a head-banger like ‘Spiral City’ plays or
enjoying sudden, late night jelly bean melees.
And then there are the spring things that spark joy.
Walking to class on a brilliant spring morning,
with birdsong, a warm sun and fragrant breezes.
Laughs stolen in the back of classes,
gossip and secrets exchanged over
guilty coffee and croissant indulgences.
Skipping through crowded halls, drawing looks
‘cause we’re clapping aggressively to each other, singin’
“You got the swag sauce, she dripping swagu, ooh!”
“Ok,” I think to myself, putting my hair in a ponytail,
“I’m ready for spring semester - bring it on.”
Jan 13, 2024
Jan 13, 2024 at 5:53 AM UTC
"No. Don't. Just stay inside."
As you say. I don't dare ask why.
"It is nice this way. And I can hear your heart."
"It sounds so loud."
(You treacherous heart)
But that wasn't the deal.
And how can I handle that?
...
What was the deal?
"This is just ***
No kisses or romance or...
"Let's just forget."
...
I tried. Wished to. But I wonder you see...
"Just leave me alone. I won't talk about that."
...you censored the things that troubled you still.
"That is hilarious. And you are sad."
And your schadenfreude is not humane.
"I don't know what that is. I also don't care."
But I knew your humanity all too well.
"Stop talking about it. And thinking too."
I have still the right to ******* care about you!
"Look. Cut it now. All my friends know."
I feel betrayed and now the end appears close.
...
"Oh, well, you know. I may have possibly found you love-able. Once."
You mean fuck-able, right? Can't mean anything else.
"Why are you talking like that? I don't like it. It is not you."
(So-over-you attitude) (Couldn't-care-less eyes) -I won't budge.
She's tearful, now, and then she smiles.
Just when I was giving in.
"This is such a funny thing!"
Almost impossible. Anger me, please!
I once couldn't stand one bit, you looking sad.
Faking is not me. You did deserve it.
"Well, night now. My boyfriend has come."
You'll have *** till dawn and boring chat. You told me so.
I walk to my room, and insanely alone,
I shatter my mind with one simple truth:
I loved you too much. You couldn't say you loved me back.
"It was just ***** back then. Didn't think that much."
And I was just a friendly mistake.
Mea culpa and it's gone.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
Chaste lovers wonder . . .
How bodies weather the cold,
. . . Never knowing touch.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC
The stale fish and the bedroom alabaster,
I quickly change into
My pajama bottoms and gills,
To slice my neck on the charcuterie board;
I glance at my watch as I turn in the grill,
This boy loves me;
Why else would he be smiling and putting truffle
On my pajamas with ruffles,
My roomates pretty baffled
About the boy in my kitchen
He was pretty with eyes that died
He asked me out on a friday night,
I chose to love instead of fight or flight,
He was the southern sea,
Oh what a glee!
Its a shame that it’s almost December,
The time I mourn my yarn
I knit a spider web for Christmas
And put my mouth to the barrel of a gun,
Maybe he could slice me kind
Nov 14, 2023
Nov 14, 2023 at 7:05 PM UTC
Well,
You never thought you'd be here
Not at this age
Not knowing what you know
In fact,
Why isn't the whole world
Lining up to kiss your feet?
You know it all
You've been there
And if you haven't been
Someone
A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend
Has been
All your bad experiences
Those are the world's bad experiences
Disregard the child soldier
The **** victim
The mutated and deformed
These?
These are real problems
If they aren't on the surface
They fester below
Rotting away at whatever you could hide away
We all feel so bad for no one
Daddy is too rich
He loves his guns and his motorcycles
And mommy got remarried to some maniac
Who has a drawer specifically for tissues and a sports car
How is an upstanding young man
Expected to compete with that?
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 11:49 PM UTC
I come in
*standard white girl voice....
but no mine is to deep*
"Im sooooo drunk"
Like tell everyone everthing drunk
Too much tequila drunk
Ill talk about my exes and my boyfriend drunk
Glad my roomates are good guys drunk ,
Want to see you drunk
Miss you drunk
Knowing how to pick my poison drunk
Head hung and bleary eyed
Probably have a problem
But im quitting on the new year....
Until st patties day
Im a writer and i need a new bottle of gin drunk.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC