: SMUUUUSH

have you ever experienced any of these symptoms?

*the overwhelming desire to squeeze every bit of ridiculous cuteness that a creature possesses into a tiny little compact ball of cute and just throw it away in one quick, spastic impulse.
*the uncontrollable reaction to squeal, stomp, and shove your own fist in your mouth, then proceed with baby talk for a full, unintelligible sentence.
*the indescribable sense that terminal cuteness is real - a condition that renders humans unable to think clearly and function normally at the sight of puppies and (some) babies... and sometimes grown puppies and grown babies, too.

just: SmUuUuUsH. 
ugh, can't take it. 
too much. 
needs to explode.

cute attacks can be serious. protect the ones you love. be uglier.

: warning

[why does summer rain seem so innocuous?
there's just something about that moment when perspiration meets precipitation and we can't tell the difference because we spring from the same source, follow a similar cycle. 
we are full of it and together we evaporate.

summer showers cleanse indiscriminately and are superior to all

except for the ones we take. we take everyday. we take those for granted.]

the tar told me a secret when my cheek was pressed against it:

"stay magnetic, pull together"
so i softly whispered, weathered,

"this is water, we are water"

and when tears dropped, rain dropped harder

'til suddenly i knew to start

to heal the hurt and mend the heart

every beat and breath was mine
i spoke to hear words in real time

vital traffic signs the same
and life turns into life, the game
my mind controlled the dole of pain
oh, i was in that summer rain; we are the treatment and the threat, both at once.

: four years later

There is nothing more revealing than process.

I've always been fascinated by the idea of process over progress because I don't believe there is a firm trajectory for the evolution of one's own art.
Four years of semi-consistent blogging has taught me that it is not time nor talent, not patience nor even persistence that makes a poem. Personal expression will not always be pretty, sensical, or honest but when all three components weave their way into my words the satisfaction is ineffable - the medium speaks for itself.

This blog is a mess, my mess, where I throw pieces of poems out into the waters of the world wide web to see what sinks and what swims... but usually it isn't that dramatic. I can let all the crappy ones float around if I don't care enough to save, submit or share them. Posting online for no particular audience or reason helps me detach just enough to be able to recognize the difference between poems that clarify and poems that confuse. And this blog is a timeline of the most important part of my process: to just keep writing, writing, writing.

: backwords, backwoods, backwards

some flashback advice from 2009 rikki

give your eyes the attention they deserve.

be a guru.

moisturize your elbows.

if you try it, commit no matter what.

choose the selfish option sometimes.

hope harder than you doubt.

don't go outside without a coat in winter.

shove tissues in your sleeves.

put a pair of socks in your purse for prom.

don't seriously shop alone.

do yoga - ohm three times fully at the end.

don't buy tuna sandwiches at gas stations.

eat the cake.

fart and walk away... but then come back and admit to it.

trust someone at a time.

keep one small secret forever.

to sleep, shut eye; to dream, middle eye.

: $

paying for art is thrilling.

why? do i support the industry? no, i support me and mine.

i buy muses & time so that

maybe one day someone will believe me when i write

we are more than a reflection of a collection of

stolen albums. oh, itunes told me you'd be some kind of person but, guess what?

if apple falls, it bruises just the same.

: trundle beds

Last night I saw a small, silver overturned thimble in the grass. I wouldn't have spotted it had I not been staring at my feet while walking towards our meeting spot. When I tried to pick it up I instead sat down beside it and touched the rounded top and realized immediately that it belonged to you - but I just left it there because whenever you lose something important the first place you think to look is where you last remember holding it.
I could never move you,
so you left
and I stayed
put with your little thimble in the grass.

: over breakfast

Are there things I am sure of?
I love yogurt, cereal, and bananas.

Smile! We are still young.
The deer don't know us by name
But by our presence.

Each book is a brick
Though this home is one story
The walls are full of books, lives stacked as stories.

A physical mirror, a flesh reflection and
a semblance in an open alley.

: may-kus

1. creek

if we could only
share a laugh over a fart
in a crazy creek.

2. supermoon

supermoon was out
from behind the cloudy haze
she was really blazed

3. tourists

locals looking down
dirty pavement, kicking stones
Up! a new city

: osh

live music is a beautiful struggle.

some Osheaga moments:

snacking on fruits and nuts behind the little yellow inflatable man during of monsters and men, borrowing lighters, making small talk with too many torontonians and then getting a beautiful face painting from a generous, artistic stranger!

making friends with Momo the security guard between the two main stages, thus getting VIP access to sitting on top of the barricade when the other guards weren't looking - then watching Sigur Ros, Florence, and Justice from up there! (also spotting friends in the crowd behind me)

ermagerd! it's snerp derg!

a worthy meeting spot: Chevrolet sign, red car.

the perks of knowing that the porta potties up on the hill never had long lines.

the hose, sometimes.

shaking the branches of wet trees at the electronic stage after missing the hose, making it rain.

shade breaks, lying on the ground and feeling it move you.

the red string and the rain during passion pit.

going up on shoulders during the shins, there's really nothing quite like that perspective in a huge crowd.

sharing big carrot sticks with strangers while waiting for city and colors emo rant to end so everyone could ogle metric.

james vincents voice bringing me to tears and then the aftershow "James! Come here!" then realizing we'd have had nothing to say to him had he obliged.

hey, do you like films? (shove postcard in strangers hand)

security not giving a fuck that everyone was harboring mickeys in their panties.

the hilarious lack of stylistic diversity thanks to aa and urban, thus contributing to the major difficulty in finding anyone in the crowd.... and yet! the serendipity of bumping into people you know or recognize just a little and being overly excited. then bumping into people you know well and believing there is a god and destiny is real and fate brought you together and all is well and good in the world forever. being grateful for being able to know the difference.

letting oursevles take the escalator instead of the stairs in the metro home, just this once.

finally making it home alive and increasingly more dirty each night, knowing that your body is a hell of a lot stronger than your mind.

: naturalists

You don't wear a lot of makeup and it feels good. Me days, you days, not quite summer days but simmered air, winded hair and worries on the down fall, eyes on the ball. I heard a pigeon squeal today. I didn't know they could speak that way, I thought they left communication to the dogs. When it pecked near my feet it was I, oh squealy one. Good thing I was wearing my helmet otherwise... What? Otherwise no otherwise. You were wise. Good on you.

: baggage

There is nothing new. All new stories have been old and told. This spotlight is only crafted from glints in other peoples' eyes. What an amalgamation of misinterpreted glances and close-bodied dances, on and on. A dialogue ensues, lines are tossed out into tepid waters and You! You are the cannonball! You shit-starter! You perfect illusion... Well, I created You. So, what does that make me?

: nurse

When you know, you know. That's what they will tell you. Don't even bother to ponder on this, no amount of stagnant indoor thought will lead you to any major life decision. Maybe go outside and look up, breath into the wind and give back that breath, with effort. Confuse yourself daily, make mistakes and spend less time criticizing yourself for not being better today! Be fine with now, because now is real. Now is your life. Memories are interpreted, Then is shaped by Now. Who cares if your thoughts are unoriginal, life wasn't your idea! Self exploration, motivation, control, feelings, desire, purpose, these are not your ideas! Even your theories about these ideas are not your ideas! And who cares? Only you, as it pertains to yourself.  Stop worrying about most things. It's fun to tell yourself how to live, but what's funny is how much you worry when you don't listen. These are made up rules that only restrict your mind, not your lifestyle. Restriction turns ugly, just listen to the sound of the word in your mouth. Don't restrict anything, you will hinder your output. Even moderation can be dangerous if it's stagnant. Be up and down, try to be healthy and make decent decisions. Don't injure yourself physically, mentally, nothing is a stressor, even real health issues when they become apparent. Nothing heals under pressure.  Prevention shouldn't be an obsession either. You feel better already. Things are only scary or sad if you let yourself feel afraid or blue. The control is a gift, not a tool. Don't even bother to contextualize it. Just roll as best you can, over and under, with what you have right now in this moment, and believe you can almost always be acutely victorious. Make some noise! No need to exert so hard in every area, you will exhaust your resources and burn out. Just chill. Good things will come, but also, now is good. Right now.

: Mathis

The math brain works in a different language, the fuel spent in thought is  numerical energy, a power in transformation.  Proof and correction, the option of checking yourself, rechecking and knowing, from the values, that you are on the right track, getting closer and closer to an answer with help from your experience: the problems you've resolved thus far... Everything you learn how to calculate now you will need in the future, nothing is arbitrary save from the constants, which were actually predetermined by a greater force of truth, like family. The formulas are the same for everyone, but the methods of application will differ.  Do not get caught up in the immediate problem because you will not be able to recognize the larger mistakes you are making.  These errors will accumulate and affect your every move from the time at which you make them. Stop every once in a while and ask yourself, "does this make sense?" and if it does not, work backwards to find the source of error. Do not be discouraged. Calculation errors can, and will, happen to everyone, just be sure to show your work so the rest of the world can try their best to understand your process.  Remember, there are many different ways to arrive at the answer, no one is correct, but one is correct for one, all or none, it's just a matter of probability, really.

: back in the saddle

What matters is the beating heart. Notice when it aches, why, and for how long. Then relinquish control over trying to pinpoint that exact moment when it finally stops. It is an organ that, when under the proper conditions, has the capacity to heal itself just like all of your other organs if you're lucky. Give it time, let it rest, try not to hover and wait because while you watch it struggle other areas are bound to suffer. Neglect is a strong sentiment that spreads like an infection if not caught early.  Be careful what you wish for because Now just might be it! The present gift to be able to imagine a bright future, the conscious, painless now, the awareness, and the gratitude.  We are delicate beings with tough and twisted minds and mending hearts, and despite our resilience, at the end of the day we still care.

: squiggly lines

and in your portrait i saw pieces that i never would have seen

without my glasses, a 20-something with an espresso machine.

i think i love you on that wall, an elegant elephant 

(such a duchess!) and the juxtaposition of your beaming eyes scaling this postered 

apartment. doodles, our future shared through where we've stared - (is this our apart meant?)

& isn't what we hope to say

i've seen what you've seen, without my glasses?

: the youths

look up, little ninja!

red, orange, green&gold, wind, no indigo, violent

string your moves along like small plastic beads, purple, bound round your tiny wrist

pop pop pop

why are you so mean?

it's just not needed now nor never, not ever, little ninja.

: DLST

last night i lost an hour to the universe, i didn't even dream

i didn't feel it

when it fell out

of the pocket in my jeans -

i just continued walking with intention in my step

and i marked each heavy brick with a tick, or tock, or tap.

(i crave the cobblestone, i stroll it with a patience

that makes me feel like i am somewhere that is foreign, safe, or ancient)

but last night time took a tick, a tock, and almost all my taps,

and slipped beneath the soul of my step, seeped into the cracks -

- in that cobblestone, and then

a sharp, keen awareness when

i was sure i had lost it just before

the moment that i did not even want it anymore

and i came

to love

the feeling!

and i did not ever look back,

i could not even look at all,

but leaped

and leapt

and laughed,

and laid down on that ground -

and fell asleep.

: yesterday,

i had a feeling that the world shared a secret

that was only accessible through hours upon hours of

subway transit . . .

but i walk!

everywhere!

and i like it that way.

and if everybody walked, too, no one would know the secret

and if no one knew the secret, the secret wouldn't mind.

it is only those who think they know that they do not know the secret

who are lost underground while walking on the sidewalk.

sometimes, the secret is that there is no secret, or that my secret is

not for you to understand.

but my secret and your secret knew each other once,

and they decided that the best kept secret

was a smile on the sideway, on the subwalk.

: cairdnohcopyh

what is worse:

the (constant) fear (of falling

ill)

or the (physical) experience?

: the toasty

relax your shoulders, jaws, and eyebrows

you will be prescribed a dosage of time during

which your life parts can communicate cell to cell in silent language.

this is the hum of an animal healing itself

and if a drug can do it faster it will only make the conversation harder to follow.

while we unspeak and i look you straight in the eyes i can tell you are uncomfortable.

your opsin warned me, 'look out for -

the d i s c o nn ec t !! ! !' when suddenly black holes stole the colorful specks

right out of your eyes!

so now i cant get in -

i can only fire stare

until you dart away and busy yourself with someone else's art

no damage is permanent,

even teenage angst ameliorated! and that must stand for something if

we are only present people with pupils and proteins and a plan to play harder next time.

: also,

fragility

is not exclusive!

: this

we are animals

hormonal and needy

confused and greedy

battling the elements while

shivering beneath lost layers, emerging and retracting then emerging again

- let us sweat

and sob

and hurt and play - abuse, misuse, ruin and repair

but always assume, infer, and deny!

take and take and take and then toss.

believe we can and will create

and then think until thought turns sour at the tap of a button - so

what if we lost it all overnight?

would we, we would wake up to a similar morning - the same sun, sweat and snow

where nothing and everything has changed.

: rezzies!!!

2
make a giant pot of chili.
change my neutral face to a smile.
ski with intention and more sound effects.
0
create a system for remembering people's names and faces.
choreograph a dance routine; whip it out at an inappropriate time.
say a high-pitched "helloOoOoO!!" to my roommates whenever i get home.
1
audition for XFactor2012 get signed by a record label and become the next Jewish pop star.
2





"don't deceive yourself that way!
having the idea is not living
the reality of anything... try to make an idea move
from ear to eye."
RUMI

: blast off

there is nothing like
when no one is watching
naked house
vocal range
open doors
human sprawl
a test of habits
and an epic display of self-self
get into it
2012

: bipolar wind

even in a life
where apples are always peeled
and it never rains,

animals are leash-less and
no room is wanting windows

time strapped wrists
sway at our sides

and there is still a need.

: //

(computers: "try//to.be.so.cryptic." ~%but: (sometimes-we-can-find (where-exactly-in-space-is-the-cyberspace))) and shut it down.

: 11.11.11

we have
shut-eyed secrets
so cryptically crafted behind tight lids and
we send them out into the universe in the form of what we call a wish -
what is a wish
what is what we call wishing
why will we worry, wish and worry worse than we wished we would never worry,
and wonder why we wish at all?
because the clock will read 11:11 again,
because four leaf clovers will sprout somewhere,
because stars will shoot occasionally,
because eyelashes will fall from our eyelids, wishing windows tightly shut -
and if we are lucky, birthdays will come and candles will glow - one more than last year, one more for good luck, one more birthday with hopes for one more lucky year here: To wish.

: these are the best days of our lives

oh, to feel young
semantics are the problem.
young is not an age and love is not one concept that
once said is said and set in stone as a big enigmatic mess of feeling.
to feel young and in love are bound by
feel, and feel is forever
but semantics are ephemeral - language just short of the full stop
can mean almost nothing and absolutely everything at the same time
and we ignore that for the confusion, the preferable chaos
that makes being young
and being in love
so
?

: heated driveways

another cookie
wafts warmly backward
toward past from future Plate of goods
pleasantly discrepant - sweet
mouth watering sound, drawn apart like beaded curtains
for entrance into, inside, within each bit of song, currents
rippling then
zinging then
urgent!
now! this right now!
absorb details, a chandelier prisms rainbows atop purple-heart wooden floors
granite smooth flow, input and output in an awesome equilibrium, blueprinted
an unexpected spectrum of self, colossally wealthy, naturally lit - fit for no one.
count fears, flaws, recount dreams then just
count yourself in and fly between the inverted sky
and the mini-world spliced between seas
tomorrow's cookie
fresher than fresh from home to here
is now today's.

: why zee

an itch
leads to a discovery of something
so vital
it's fatal.
so proximal



it's distal.
set it up and break it down -
hold onto the handrail
with gloved precautions
and never wait for it, always jump
before the itch turns to scratch and
you bleed stagnant patience
not quite a virtue
just barely a vice.

: with an X

a limited resource
what is not
aren't we
isn't this an ever so slowly deteriorating viable reservoir
of the fantastical reality that is the present and
can't it continue to replenish itself in a never
ending sequence of perfect falsehood?

: grey

some conversations we have do not matter.

and some that we think matter to us
do not matter to the other person
or vice versa

and even that fact doesn't matter!

all that matters is that we are matter
and we do not even know what the essence of that
matter is (maybe to ourselves but not) to each other,
so how can we actually
know what matters?

i
and
you
and a bottle of wine, perhaps
right now
and a future without worry.

we carry too much all the time in the front -
choose to wear a small, waterproof backpack instead
and keep moving.

: bugs and birds

we give our time away like
little trinkets, of soap, of sand
a bracelet and a bookshelf, a silly joke, a bicycle spoke -

often attached to pennies, lightly tossed
into the middle of that fountain, in the middle of that pond, in the middle of that park
in that city you hope to visit one day.

we laugh like it costs under a dollar
but still adds up
over time.

when you wait for it, it always takes longer
surprise! look how long your hair grew while we were dormant
yes, we had it, so much and so good.

sometimes the sun is just big enough for one thumb
sometimes maybe two
but never none.

: touch screen

fall happened this morning
and this afternoon inverted summer
with winter overnight
and spring at the break of dawn.
a seasonal schizophrenia, an atm - withdrawingweather,wouldyoulikeareceipt?
still, put on a pair of sneakers and puddle hop, lay on a bench face up to the
cloudscreened sky until your face stops flinching at the touch of a cold drop
invincible!
it must be! it is the! weather, so let's actually talk about it.

: on the house

big, heavy suitcases
lost on the ship deck
how, how could you lose something when you're on something in something far from anything else? impossible, someone is lying.
no photos, well maybe if you turn off the flash
tell everyone to please turn off the flash, it is unnecessary on a boat.
"wherever you go, there you are" and
isms of that nature. never say no to free food
or ten minutes in the sun, or both if the opportunity presents itself.
stranger company can be strange, but it is still company nonetheless.
that maltese puppy has rabies, watch out! and you only look cute in your pajamas.
lower your standards, stand up straight and turn to face a friend
a potential friend, a phantom friend, a whatever works best right now -
hail a cab and walk away, order to-go but stay a while
and tip big because
you may never be back.

: three years later

why did i start this blog? i had just finished a two-week intensive creative writing workshop at Kenyon College in Gambier, Ohio and i needed an outlet that led to nowhere in particular but could lead particularly anywhere. no need to make sense to everybody, perhaps just somebody. or maybe it would bring me closer to understanding parts of self, thought patterns, word patterns, subject patterns, no pattern. i never edit after posting, unless i see a glaringly obvious mistake in the format or my intended grammar... thus nothing is finished, nor will it ever be fully complete. writing in this blog is like a brain massage, or an obnoxious sigh after a refreshing drink, or the result of boredom, anger, confusion or illness. overall it's been fun. now what?



My steady spotlight and this city my stage - it didn't even hurt, ripping band-aids off at intermission starving for attention and making many mistakes - I didn't mind the mania, I found a friend in it, made friends with it, became a part, appendaged to it, into it, I felt free, it was free, my performance of flacid romance and absolute certainty of absolutely nothing - I held you there while I inverted the context - I made it okay to be sinful and selfish I made it the acceptable norm and you loved me - because everyone loved the world I had created from seams broken, mended with stitches of manic urgency, yet calm intensity, calm enough to cover us - to span the city whole - to incubate the infant summer, struggling to catch its breath beneath a lingering coolness, the last legs of when we were real - we were never real! This, my friends, is dreamland. Welcome back, it's good to have you.

----------- random journal bits

i still love john mayer more than any hipster band because of what the music makes me feel underneath my balloon heart, tear throat, well, well of emotion. whatever.

free speech is verbal free write is vocalizing a part of your self-pace is the weather is beyond the water is sand that magnetically clings to itself is a starry night sky and a pier and a boy. is quenching a beer thirst a heart burst a note a notice a boat an island a waterfall, not at all, coffee fuel and fire, desire, higher so tired sleep later, be here now. easy isn't hard, hard isn't easy state the obvious but most relevant - surf the waves of ambivalent declaration, guard your life with water tubes and life vests and long oars and just drown - regardless it can be like truth telling, like breathing underwater life extreme, peer into privacy can i trust you does it matter?

intermittent meditation, overflowing appreciation,
endless vituperation, sensitive cooperation,
free and honest conversation, immediate confrontation,
spiritual elevation, active imagination
creative penetration, uninhibited sensation
reactive insinuation, introverted contemplation,
verbal unification, emotional retaliation,
unnecessary compensation,
anticipated rejuvination.


chapters: pockets of life, new life - getting used to the difference.
adapt and abandon
adapt and adopt > make it new
----------------------- make it yours
-----------------------don't even make it.

: dalliance

as if song were a more profound speak
as if script were a more permanent sound
as if dance were a more expressive tell
as if love were a more elevated feel
as if life were long enough to stop thinking entirely
and just be entire.





(ungrammar.)

: and i like it

tight teeth
and a hand raised in the distance
a full tank and a paper cup filled with jewels

legs crossed
your sleep dented cheeks
and the faintest smell of hot sugar somewhere

cigarette smoke
from foreign tongues
always bargaining for the understanding

heavy bags
but barefoot on magnetic beaches
moods tidal and timeless as the ebb and flow

night heat
hovering scooters on sidewalks
sandy piers and souvenirs for just a taste of the land

: the renaissance lobby

tickled limbs
tensely tender atop fresh sheets
you stayed asleep, forehead gently pinched
in dream speak - i dive in.
the walls are smooth, they feel like stone but they aren't stone.
my fingers swipe the contours of the wall, which is really the floor, which is actually the ceiling, which feels like your face.
in stone-like solidity your features under my small fingers are everdom, pyramidic,
staying a little past awhile more.
when you startle, i wake; when you wake i am still
here.

: yalla

this is contact
two on one, one on two
none on none.
this is the bridge, this is the snake trail, this can be
distant but
the immediacy is inevitable. what is an aching organ
and how does it continue to fool the self, to fuel the self,
to find the final fall line and just
look and linger there, the last sliver of moonlight that looms
longing.

XLVIV: there is no now like never

when that affected voice switches on and says go, go, go write now. right now? write! now!
and sometimes if i listen i can tap into goodness, into a brain massage that follows the no-form feeling(s) word flavor, letter texture, icon aroma, an umami assortment of expression; a shake and bake oven no an easy bake oven, look mom, i helped. the water boils for thoughts to thicken no time to test tastes just try them once and keep moving, you can come back later. but you wont.
we usually don't - i have to make this difficult or it wouldn't be real enough to publish. as if. as if the rain makes you feel curious. it is a strange sensation the misty montreal pulse, it is not a pulse, a wide alley, non menacing, drawn over chalky figures and rain dripped imaginations planted in empty bathtubs and piano keys. warm macaroni smell, before the butter. a candle-lit game of whatever-you-call-it and some company to warm our hearts and keep us.

XLVIII: feverdreams

the smell of warm dirt
black boogers
rocks rolling beneath rubber soles
that summer Sunday
was like any other day
except the water on the lake was still far past breakfast
and the birds were quiet and the dew never came
but the sun was strong, not a cloud in the sky could compete
with the rays beating down, darkening skin, lighting up camp
a steady solar lamp
it's that still, cool, quiet peace that
says Today will be a hot, hot day.
and with a deep breath, a Namaste, and a long look at the early Earth
it begins.

XLVII: tune out - turn over

torment the tyrant
tinker the touch-tone to
titillate, tantalize, then taper the tingle.
tango to turntables
tumbling tunes into tempos that
tease, trick and tranquilize the tizzy.
tickle the tantrum, tuck away the tirade
and translate the template into text that teems with timeless tranquility.
taste, test and tempt til the tick turns to tock
and time's twin takes the torch and twists to the trying tune of teenage triggers.

XLVI: tell us

QUICK!
Sign up for: Human Values Research! (the) human values research -
the research needs humans, needs values, needs valuable humans.
Arrive early, five minutes early. This is important.
Do not eat for 6 hours prior.
Do not bring your cell phone, just yourself.
Do not forget your house key.
Do not wear leather or lace.
Do not believe in apocalypse 2012.
Do not turn on any stoves within 24 hours of this assignment.
Do not park your car in the parking lot across the street.
Do not bring money.
Do not paint your fingernails.
Do not leave the sink full of dishes.
Do not become queen of the land called Passive Aggresiva.
Do not finish season two in one week.
Do not expect consistency - not now, not ever.
Do not get overwhelmed.
This is an experiment. You are the subject.
Do not lie, cheat or steal when we are looking.
Do not not trust human values
but do not trust the research.

XLV: REMission

Life script = feelings > truths.
We are perpetual liars! The scripts are changed when recalled
and the artist owes nothing to accuracy.
Truth and reality are not synonymous nor are they semantically related -
What is true is not real, what is real is what is felt.
Can I be convinced of feeling something I have never felt? I know what it's like to -
Does dreamland count as life experience? I wont minimize what happens here.
Even the realest ones keep changing your lines in the morning, minimizing and maximizing your role - malleability, conflict, development - you are an ultimate performance.
I will write you into my life, a permanent character,
just as easily as I perceptually write you out, still
dreamland betrays every false truth I ever wrote, claiming History can't be erased,
only rewritten, relived, and returned to the waking world as a
somewhat more coherent production:
there is a beginning, a middle, and an end
but never a real intermission.

XLIV: the sameness

what is unique about apathy?
apathy is not a trend, so
stop wearing it all over your malnourished selves as if it were an expensive garment that is made to look like you borrowed it from toothless tom on the corner of st laurent and ontario.
your existence is redundant.
everywhere you go, you already are. stop staring at the world from behind your over-sized lenses (that you probably don't even use to see... because you're already blind to anything fresh) as if it were a boring cliche. look at yourself, no just look at the person next to you and you'll see yourself. it is a sad excuse for style, one that mimics mannequins and pretends to be edgy - it is dull and insulting. if i see one more pair of high-waisted pants paired with one more floral top and some impractical, flat, support-less nerdy-looking pieces of fabric that barely cover the soles of your feet, i will vomit all over you and then proceed to judge you.
now, gimme those ray bans.
peace.

XLIII: contraband (5192010)

We walked, not yet hand in hand, only swinging silently, barely grazing, nothing to prove, the absence of warm sand - I thought I never wanted to leave the city, that in that moment I could laze forever in a room with one window, until outside next winter's falling snowflakes would dance for us behind the cold glass, and freeze our indecisive hearts at that fruitful moment before they learn how to ache, break, or give more than take.
Summer thawed us, then. I cant remember how to feel how I felt. Why do the ripe ones rot so soon? It is not yet even June.

XLII: chimney sleeper

the good news is on it's way
it should really be any day now -
I think it'll be Monday, because leave it to Now to make Monday's weekends.
am I insinuating that good news only comes on weekends? because that is not what I meant at all. the mailman brought me a letter today and it wasn't from the bank,
And it wasn't addressed to the previous tenants, It was from the City telling me good news is on it's way in the form of stolen sounds and sick days,
music bowls and free chicken noodle soup, technological anti-loneliness and temperatures that warm into chest pains and thaw out the window panes to let in the fresh air,
and the mailman.
The breathing manor sighs with seasonal allergy, the wood laughs at the idea of linoleum, and though the paint chips the thin walls will still stand
It's a new kind of dizzy Delirium detox, a sunny stillness, a pleasure in the poisonous pulse, a reaction that tells you, 'Yes, you are alive. Now.'
so Now, who can say what will become of us changing like seasons, bleeding like lesions, praying for a good day or
even just
to hear
that good news is
on it's way, and should
be here..
it sounds the way healing feels, and guess what
it's going to be free.

XLI: free love

we did not sign up for this.
this is not what we signed up for.
we did sign up for not this.
this is what we did not sign up for.
so instead let's get drunk off shitty wine and pretend that sun means summer
we can translate our feelings into cryptic verse because that's just so in these days..
the pigeons pick at the city's deletions while we peck at keyboards until our eye muscles stiffen, screens make statues of our bodies, numb our minds in unresolved resolution.
only the music keeps us - keeps us what?
keep moving,
maybe this is what we signed up for.
no stopping, make it work, continue walking - the winter will wait for no one
so sign up or sit down.

XL: the buzz

take pleasure in the cryptic,
bask in being intentionally misunderstood -
because there is nothing quite like the ineffable buzz
if you (don't) know what i mean, (you know?)
concluding an assertion with a casual, (does that make sense?), does any assertion a disservice.
of course it doesn't make sense!
the contours of an ambiguous attack are tangible: the preliminary pursuit
is usually followed by coy banter and the swaying of hypocritical hips,
but bathos backfires because scrambling for sensuality just
plummets into a desperate defense
- fall
into
the
buzz -
until an anticipatory anticlimax.
this argument leads to nowhere
but the buzz
was well worth it.