Tuesday, October 22, 2019

shhh.

THINGS I CANNOT SAY (OUTLOUD) (TO ANYONE) or think

i... just need a pit-dark moment of honesty. just to record the things. for later, for later when it's different and it's a new everything and we've started over - when that all comes i want to be able to remember honestly. need to put a flag down. or bread crumbs. 

  1. most of 2018, parts of 2019, you were scared of the edge. at the train station. you kept yourself seated until the train was fully stopped. then you stood up, walked in. doors closed. don't take risks with yourself. it only takes a second to swoon your way towards
  2. you still think about it. when you walk to work. when you leave work early because you just can't, and you walk around aimless hoping to see something you haven't seen, you day dream about it. always the same. coming to the train tracks. lying down. head on the track so comfortably, a cloud made of pillows. sweet sweet silent sleep. a sleep with no dreams (at last). why this over and over again? 
  3. and every night how worried you are to go home. how unsure you are what to do when you're there. how scared you are of the place. on fridays, the day the cleaner comes, you walk around, trying to follow her steps and see what's changed. relieved to see dust you remember. the dead you. disassociated you. lost you. how will you put it all back together again? how will you remember what you were when you weren't this far away? the dust must know. the dust must. the dust. if not, nothing. 
  4. never have you drunk like this. 2019 this is. wake at 9, drink before brushing your teeth. drunk before 10. asleep before 11. awake in the pm, repeat. repeat. repeat. not another day of it. not another day i won't tolerate another single moment single second single any of tod
  5. when i was 16 i wrote the last line of the novel. even then, i knew even then how it'd end. i had no idea what the story was, who it was about, how it'd look. i just knew how it'd end. i could visualize it. i saw it. that's the only intuition i've ever had. "I listen to french music i don't understand, and dance like a fiend at an OD funeral".  so it goes. 
What else? what else? be honest q. be honest. no one cares. just be honest. say it. force yourself. say it. effing say it because it's the last chance you have to exist as something other than a pot plant broken robot no one's ever heard silent radio alarm clock f*cking dust heave version of u. please q say something.

  1. you haven't gone back to playing philip glass since her. you can't. it's her. it's her. 
  2. autumn leaves is her song you can't listen to that either. you stopped playing that months ago you never will ever again. 
  3. you know her routes you haven't been anywhere near her side of the block. maybe she's seen me around dear god thank you i haven't seen her. i just can't. i just can't. 
  4. maybe i'll be forgiven one day. (by who?)
  5. maybe someone will forgive me some day. some day some bum will walk up to me and unsolicited say "hey dude. you're forgiven." and i'll cry and cry and he'll say something about jesus and i'll say something about how i managed 2019 without knowing what impact with a train feels like. maybe. don't jinx it, there's still time. maybe. maybemaybe.
what am i forgetting? what am i dodging?

  1. the psychologist. Pam. call her Pam. she suggested you see her. when you passed the exam and were supposed to be happy but instead, who the f*ck knows why, you were the exact opposite and couldn't stop it it was so heavy it was so heavy it was so much you couldn't and the nightmares started and never have you had more nightmares than with her besides you snoring (which you didn't mind the snoring) but the dreams and every night waking up screaming or her waking you because you'd been screaming and thrashing and covered in sweat and ashamed to talk about it and the effing useless pyschologist call her Pam remember that f*cking saga she suggested it might help and even the psychiatrist said bro it might help - remember that
  2. why are you doing this? why are you doing this? 
  3. i don't want to do this. 
  4. i just don't. 

i just don't.

  1. i'm scared of myself. 
  2. something's gone out from it. it's lighter than i remember, someone poured it all out. 
  3. it's... hard to explain. it's __i... 
  4. here it is: as long as mom and sahar are alive, so am i. imagine if they weren't. if they weren't, and it's just what today's worth to you, imagine that, imagine you have to weigh your own day and that's what you're measuring what do you think then? __not sure you make it lunch. 
how is this what you wrote? you're doing well. you've been having dinners with people. you shave everyday. you get dressed everyday. you go to work. you're doing so well. you've even started walking around again. sometimes going to gym. you made those 4 jokes last week. that's an improvement. how can you write this? you wrote this?


i.
i..

tried. am trying. will try.

that's all

Friday, March 1, 2019

notapoem - on the occasion of resitting an exam

pt 1 - monday 25 Feb, 1:01am

__this ferocious month,
__the mouth
__of 2019 -
_and now,
_the hour I have been too
_scared of to be scared.
(so I've just... not been.
__out of fright for today I haven't dared to be scared.)
Pill count today: 16.
that can't last. __I'm sorry future me. __I'm sorry
previous me for getting us into this mess.
__But here we are.
_too scared for feelings and very very tired.
__So too everything


pt 2 - Saturday 2 March, 2:44pm

__and now i see why.
__around the corner, __beneath the
__the unknown places speak ,
__a certain language
__with no question marks.
__the ipse dixit of how it goes
__how it went
__what was left __lost __redeemed, ____displaced
__the fall of rome __the day Luna Park was closed
__lost tennis balls __rings
__broken dishes __bones
__success stories __fours of spades
__who sunk and who found a treasure ashore.

__shrugs against tanks

__steps __against  days and days and days:
__sometimes against, __sometimes through, __sometimes
under the foot of.

__now we wait.
__hearts at our feet.



Saturday, November 5, 2016

DESCRIPTIONS OF THE HUNDREDS OF BUTTERFLIES I SEE FROM MY OFFICE ON THE 40th FLOOR WHILE BEGRUDGINGLY WORKING ON A SUNNY SUNDAY



the dust has settled, and we walk through what's left with relief that we are walking and part of what's left

snow, in reverse, floating away from the earth, warming us as it rises

somewhere a mother is so proud

(two dance right by my window) hello friends hello be-my-friends hello i know-you-are 

we should all dance as loosely. ignore the choreography, our steps are light as air

are you here to remind me of something?

the hourglass is running in reverse, the grains trickle upwards. each one i am delighted to see and sorry to see gone, not to return again. (where will you all go? where will you all sleep?

not everything that rises returns. say hi to the balloons for me.


* * *

thank you lordie, i needed something beautiful today

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Los Angeles, and everything after

this is not special fancy writing i don't have special fancy writing, all i have are - i don't know what i even have i should be more thankful grateful for all the wonderfulness but i can't i tried i couldn't i tried i tried i tried - not a single time has the plane landed and i thought hurray!, not a single once, not a single once, every time the wheels touch down and there's that sinking falling something really sinks down low and i feel crushed ruined hurt    i mean that: hurt,   and then i walk around for days thinking why here why how did, what is this place who am i here?, i'm no one here, not even my mom is here any more, i miss my mom, why is everyone i love somewhere else somewhere far from me and i am thankful for all these wonderful lovelies i spent a lifetime finding discovering and why am i not near them, but here, in this place, by myself where i have nothing to do but drink night after night hoping the night just goes away,   dear 2016 seriously f8ck off i hate you hate you hate you, what more disaster can you devise you f8cker of a year i hate you hate you hate you - this is a salty month of a salty year i have no answers why can't i answer this i don't know how to fix this who can i speak to to help me escape this?, who why can't i find a way out of this maze at the end of the universe where i've been trapped for millennia where every day is a week, every week a universe and where i've been reduced to a silent mouse in a quiet office where i read the thing and write the thing and have nothing to show for it on friday evening but another 80 hours clocked wasted spilt and empty bottles i look through and find nothing but a hazier tonight tomorrow forever i swear i am trying - i am failing but i am trying and i don't know how what i'm supposed to do, i don't know what i'm supposed to do i don't know what i'm supposed to do, dear tuesday dear monday dear all you days i want you to be here with me, i want to see you why can't i see?

i am out of boxes to put you in.

put me in the box already i am out of flowers.

why can't i fix this  i don't know how to fix this   who can i speak to to help me escape this? 

Sunday, June 26, 2016

2016: a portrait (draft)


half-nelson
the muscular shadow:
__mountains of heavy-weighted silence

___*

near tears when i arrive home
scared of the front door
frozen on the porch in the dark, still holding my keys
__hoping the stray cat will visit

__
___*

you were sober all week?, that's great! that's great, And last night too,
oh.
...
___...

___*

this straight road.
this tired sunday,
yet another fallen to my feet, with the other playing cards

even the shingles doesn't scratch,
in the shape of a perverse smile
licks its lips and presses its fang into me

hi sucker

___*

this finger is fine, i can move it.
the finger is swollen, dislocated and fractured.
i can move it.
you cannot.
but i see it moving.
you do not.

___*

half-nelson
the breathlessness
the herbs for the anxiety
the pills for the cold bed
the medication for the frenzy
the booze for everything else

___*

it's true isn't it?

i am here?

am i?

please
_please ,



is there no bottom?

(the carousel. the merry-go-round,

hamsters on a wheel. rats in race).

___*

there's a voice on the other end.
far away.
it keeps me walking.
i keep pace to it.
if it stops i stop.
tomorrow it may be there again.
tomorrow maybe i will be.

___*

2016:
the year of the half-nelson,
the choke-hold
breathlessness : the year of the motionless frenzy
the sunken cathedral
the bottomless piano,
the monday vampire
the tuesday drone
these white tulips
these cigarettes won't light
these pills won't speak
no exit
no stronghold
the muscular shadow, with its mountainous weight:
the year of the gridlock,
the lost birth certificate
the half empty tumbler
the empty bottle
the year of the



is there no bottom?



___please :


______is there no bottom? 

Saturday, April 23, 2016

sunday, 3:55pm


when did this start?,
before the long weekend with the perfect weather
and the steady, controlled pace of moderating
immoderate rage with whatever was at hand,
stumbling hands under the couch and under the sink
looking for things to throw at it,

numberless day, nameless moments

left hand still shrieking from a bad catch last week,
swollen thumb shaking its way through untied shoelaces on one foot
undone cuffs on on wrist

despite all efforts : aimless day,
gentle, smiling sunny minutes gnawing away,
eroding the last of it

and with nothing left at 4pm
the day yawns and the real trouble will begin.

how , how , how? , to deal with that?

(if i start burning now, by tuesday morning...



how?

saturday, 9:12

he plays videogames and taps his feet to the blaring trance
i read ee cummings and listen to my body fill and release like a giant heart

and he tries the nanoblocks again
and i look for poems about kisses and consider sending them to you

the clothes dryer turns
it's the bats' mating season and they have a lot to say about it outside ;
saturday night doesn't notice any of this as it casually inspects itself

(and grainy seconds coalesce into minutes hours longweekends nexybirthdays and
___a wave called Time grows into a wall )

___
and i drink and do another line and read
and shutout the doppler effect
and try to find a shortcut to the other side