The ungrammatology

let me lay
quiet,
awhile

lost at least
in thought

give me the time
to give me
away

you've tongue without mouth

a lace of late of crazy

don't

eat popcorn in bed. date boys who can't. not. care.

Under No Management

The woman knitting at the bus stop. The boy she kissed in rehab. The grey haired psychologist. The gum behind my ear. Incontinent men in the pharmacy aisle. Rooms rented by the hour. Sex. The needle found in his pajama pocket. Neon lights and empty hospital halls.

eyes close

luring almost mindless/ routine a regular strategic something about it though identified in me and I knew, despite my better self, that I had always had a place  should I need it or want it, among the mismatch of forgettable faces passion must have kidnapped reason/ abandoned

-

You were wrong
You still are
I know you called her back,
in the bathroom,
I heard it through the wall as
I pretended to fall asleep with the
all the lights still on.

wahh wahh

I knew just what you wanted me to say
and I knew
I was one step ahead
and my funny haha
got yours thinking
and it was never
going to happen
except that one time
when we both were
drinking
or you caught me
feeling as if I'm
hung to dry

and then u ask me
what i want
what
i
want
want
want
want
waah waaah

and i know,
well kinda
i've had it...
just not sure where to find it
or if it's like one of those
things you get to have more
than once
or like if it was I don't know
real


but i know
whatever it was
we weren't listening to
mgmt
in the back of your
suv

my mother
would be happier
if I did more things
that I was suppose
to
and maybe
i would be
too

sometimes

for me, starving, that coreless, useful feeling
is not making myself smaller
but making myself bigger, inside,
it's starving artist
fullness is dullness. dreaming's too easy.
but sometimes I don't care.

2.

Inside us, apologies inch
their way around. Most of what we say will hardly matter

1.

he walked away and didn't come back. that's how it was. if i'm going to be completely honest, i have no better story to tell. it was twilight. it was december and bitterly cold. my stomach ached with it, that kind of loss for which i have no other than pain. for days after, i looked out the picture window. I made up all kinds of scenarios to address what i didn't know. i knew nothing. i knew he had been here and now was gone. i knew i'd done nothing to help him, nothing to stop his going. and now i was afraid.

Listening to my own advice

" I always put myself out there, I don't think there is any avoiding it. Well, if you want it to mean something"

Dabbles and Dots

But you were saying, I was saying
together we stutter toward a stab at the everafter
and still this treaty between us shatters

the swallow's leaf-rot nesting sours the breeze
Aphids lace the startled iceplants with spit

Even those cool midday shadows wouldn't correct our dreams
were we to sleep, and so the thinking, at this moment
is of stalling whatever's next


what's going to need to happen here, people, is either we let that noise at last lull every ambition to ruin, or we rise up and reach for the keys and get out

A ribbon on my finger

normal is bad.

no
no
no

or


mal
mal
mal

” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose
someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don’t get over it
because “it” is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new
people, but the gap never loses. How could it? The particularness of
someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by
death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can
fit it. Why would I want them to?”

— Jeanette Winterson

It's so easy to project yourself onto water.
It's violence, calmness, changeableness are mine, or yours.
I can't seperate its moods from my own.
But then I don't really beleve they're seperate anyway.

NY