amalgamations of love and its forms
observations of unfiltered chatter between the occupants of my mind & poetry from the tiny little book i keep at my bedside & images that make my stomach turn & maybe some generational pain.
The sounds are ever present but today i do not listen. well, i don’t stay to. In this debate, i do not choose sides. I smile and let my eyes remain closed. I am adrift with nowhere to go, nowhere to be and the chatter begins to fade. The words so insignificant or even harmful “are you trying to hurt me?” silence. i smile & fall. I am sleeping again and i’ve got nowhere to be so i'll lie around as i please. tick. tock. sun. toss. turn. pinch. no no no no no breathe brace let it pass the meanest pinch charlie and the hoove of his horse deep in my right calf I laugh through gritted teeth reaching for hydration. it won’t matter. I say “right, i’m sorry” & fall backwards into rest. Jaicabs hand extended he massages my leg a phone vibrates a message we can’t tell whose we don’t check. It’s hard to stay these moments they last so long. I think. “wait! remember this. remember his sleeping face, his thick beard. pink brown lips pressed against my arm. his coily hair digging into my skin. remember to be saturday. remember not to leave.” I could read all the books in this room before he wakes i could shower & clean up the place. i could. remember to stay.
painting by Alexandra Dahl. "Egon Schiele Lovers”
“do you know you’re safe here?”
you drift under the purple sky crystal clouds sway above your free mind you reply with a sleepy nod halfway between here and your subconscious and i smile. just in case you glance at my dishonest reflection. you don't. you believe me.
"what are you looking for?" the little boy whispers. as we enter into the looking glass clutching his hand, warm and relaxed in my own, i reply "i don't know, but i can't stop looking"
a few days sober from her
all the symptoms setting in
the unbearable heat beneath my skin
the dry mouth yearning to scream
i miss you
the pangs of rage deep in my gut
the why cant this work
the why cant you be what i need
the why cant i be what you need
my first heartbreak
you say
she only peed the bed once
she was always so good
maybe i had no other choice
maybe i knew i couldn’t wait around
the house was made of clay
and it rains alot in new york city
the bronx is gray and rust colored
fighting to stay in color,
fighting
fighting
fists
biting
maybe thats why the baby was colic
tightness wrapping around my throat
i just wanted to run
and you say i did, before i even walked.
9 months and she was running
i heard the pitter patter of her feet down
our parkchester railroad hallways
and then when i was 17
and i did,
still unsure of how to walk though
just running
always running.
i’d love to run into you,
in a different life
different circumstances
maybe you’d be gentler
with yourself first
and then the people around you
the people of you—
and maybe i’d be too.
i count the hours,
the days,
its been weeks before and still
i know it wont last.
it’s always this way,
what is sobriety when you know its impermanence?
