Monday, March 15, 2021


 imagine i did it. 

imagine i did.

that thing, 

sat in the silence and conceived myself

said said what i felt - worse still - felt it

these are sharp words. sharp and... 

* * * 

why i have i lived this soo long?

will it must it go on? but, but like this ?

this ?

* * *

he asks me - I spoke the psychiatrist today - god bless phone appointments - he asks me how i am - things are good, ups and downs, been on this ride a long time doc, get to know the bumpy parts pretty well. 

sure thing, sure thing. well, you're still managing on 6 a day? - yup, same as always (more like 16

and nothing out of the ordinary? - nothing new, same ol same ol (twitching everywhere, add half a dozen caffeine pills, whatever else i can find, hypnic jerks are no fun, the twitch, the worst are the sores on the sores on the tongue, the strange lights and thinking all the shadows move

great. glad you're doing well. - eh. life. who knows right? win some, lose most. but, a win here and there, should be enough. 

very realistic. - i'm nothing if not accustomed to reality. 

what is reality? - a year ago you told me you couldn't cure existential angst, remember? 

yah yah - so why bother right?  - that's what i say, just. why. bother. 

* *  * 

and. yet. 

time goes its way. and you go yours. and mine?,   Mine? 


mine, it sinks deep.and, it will never be clear, i am smart man i will never understand it

just why it's so goddam imperative to the alien in my brain that it destroys me. that it does such a god-freaking-damn good job of it

and whether in the end, when i'm diced up on the scale, we'll know then, we'll know, on the scale, diced up, half a pound of flesh and a slowy broken cracked dreamer's pie of a heart, will i know whether i tried and fought,



* *  *

for so long i have tried not to think. not to feel. what good can come of this? what good comes of putting this out in the world? 

i've been watching youtube. apparently repressed emotions are not such a good thing. substance abuse, constant distraction. sleep problems. disturbances of various types. check check check check. 

but here... 

no one's here anymore. the world has moved on from this space. perhaps here, it's time to re-imagine. re-enliven. 

let's be clear, i'm here to try and remember why it's okay to be alive and who knows and certainly not me i can't remember ever knowing. i'm nearly 40.that's a bruise i'll face another day. 

dear lord help me. 


i've run out of prayers lord. i'm trying and it's not going great. 

do what you do. 

it's what it is. 

i hate this carousel. 


Thursday, April 23, 2020

she says

she says i don't understand it. i don't understand people who drink so much -
i don't understand people who don't - [he says]
___- i open something and it smells horrible and if i touch it it takes months to get through. 

so, then he says: remember how you forbid me from dying? [yes, she remembers] imagine feeling - i can't. i can't have this evening/afternoon/moment. i just can't endure it. it's too much i want to turn it off and i want it to stop and i want a repeat later. a fresh chance at it - [she nods] - so that's this. i can't be dead because your forbidding me.. it, dead forever, but i can die tonight. die and shut the whole machine off and it be quiet and thought-less and when i wake... i'll try again. the world will be anew. another chance. 
she's quiet. __ a little longer, then: that sounds horrible. 
- It is horrible. It's not fun, it's horrible. It's a death every night, that's a lot of casualties but they're little bite sized suicides. enough i can chew on without causing too big a mess. 
She responds immediately don't you go making a bigger mess than you're already making;- already made,  ... and making. .

Now he's quiet. So she adds a finishing touch: it sounds horrible though. I'm real sorry. 

* * *

and then they go on to talk about other things. with relief.
and it's sunny.
and the air is nice.
and tomorrow it's a day anew.

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Tuesday, October 22, 2019



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?


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


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?