notapoem.

surprise party by pinkyhonor


yesterday's zombie.

i have all the lights on, there's not a shadow amongst them to hold out its hand

__(from my white desk i would watch you sleep , turn my music off at 4am to hear you better ,

your breath: the night's ocean )

and you'd smile at me at 9 when you woke up.

this bike makes an odd noise , the cold wind hurts my neck.

at least i've forgotten about my hands.

someday i'll find this dream again, hug it tenderly , and remember what love is to hold.

there's morning, and afternoon, and then night. __this much i know.

sometimes there's more than that.

__(around me people dance. i'm not sure what i'm supposed to do. one body moving alone
makes little sense. (how these stars burn so far away from each other. (not a shadow amongst them - their hands can't reach

and then night and then a heavierest blanket that comes after ,

i thought maybe a pot-plant but its breaths sound wrong and its skin doesn't glow like yours.

the treadmill and i disagree about a few things and part ways early.

someone's tied strings to my bike pedals so i drag two and a half happy years behind me as i try and get home.

__the bike makes an odd noise , the cold wind hurts my neck.

i haven't forgotten what happiness feels like. _(white light). _(so vulnerable__,
_______________________________________ ___the hush of sunrise could scare it away)

an echo of it is trapped, i hear it bouncing around like warm summertime streets after dark.

someone asks me so, what brings you here? and i say that i was in a dream once but got lost. other than that, i don't know.
__she doesn't understand and i don't explain.

i hesitate to turn the lights off. i let each day linger as long as i can hold it.
when i'm alone with it - with silence and with night -

when i'm alone ...

i'm alone.


i stack my logic back up on the shelf , and measure its corners for right-angles ,

in my underwear dance slowly staring at nothing in the mirror listening to my wake-up alarm,

waiting to be overtaken by the treadmill and restless fridays i hope to drop and see crawl away splintered and sad never to be remembered.

in vietnam, when we were sick, and i was hot and you couldn't eat - only hot water with ginger and honey,

i'm terrified of airplanes now. did you know that?, have you heard?

can't face the departure board without becoming panic stricken. when i pay for my ticket i know i'll pay.

it's a high price to be a man nowadays.

(and who knows if you ever get the genuine thing).

i tell her i got lost in my happiness and ended up here. __she doesn't understand.

the bike leans awkwardly against the stairwell and i stumble up the stairs nauseous.

on wednesdays i'd feel like this and we'd hide in your room till i stopped shaking
and convulsing through the night.

(any minute now i'll land and then i'll work out where i am)

any minute now.

every time i divide i'm left with a remainder that chases me.

yesterday's tulip yesterday's zombie.

at least i've forgotten my hands.

someday i'll find this dream again, hug it tenderly , and remember what love is to hold.

there's morning, and afternoon, and then night. __this much i know.