(always running numbers)
I outgrew cereal
before I outgrew stuffed animals and make-belief
92 days of summer
reading labels like they’re novels
Collecting 50¢ words
until my only friends
were over-sized t-shirts and empty plates
bleeding into lumpy sweaters
and first bites
that were always one too many
90 days of winter
scraping numbers into the ever-hungry trashcan
92 days of spring
opening and closing fridge doors and boxes
Rinse and repeat
like lettuce leaves
and carrot sticks
until i’m drowning in fabric and calories
too big a number to swallow
what do you think hell is like?
i can tell you this--there are no flames because
hell tastes like chocolate chip cookies
and taco tuesdays
ice cream on hot afternoons
and home-cooked meals
it feels like never enough
and always too much
cold porcelain under trembling fingertips
and brittle hair sliding down a shower drain
It’s just food, you say
I wish that’s all it was
Under Your Influence
My mother wields guilt
My father wields chagrin
My brother wields a devil’s smile
Results are mixed for him
My sister wields sympathy
My grandma wields regret
My grandpa wields a restless ire
Which hasn’t failed him yet
My neighbor wields cookies,
My friend wields fan and wit,
My boss wields good old fashioned work
Built with elbow grease and spit
My spouse wields honesty
With a blunt force trauma blow
Me? I wield resilience
From loving all the ones I know
Does a sand grain even know he’s in a storm?
soooo much of this life is about reaction to things.
I didn’t see things this way when I was young. I used to be confident.
I used to think that I understand things, and know the twists and turns ahead.
those days, I was geeking off to particle physics and history.
these are the interests of a man who knows things.
i had a tragectory.
i had a path laid out.
but here is a geeky piece of analogy.
life is like the random metastate of particles. we can predict they will go in a certain place, or occupy a certain position within a degree of probability that is high or low. but particles tend to get away from our ken, when we reach the individual level and not the trillion upon trillion possible ones.
so is the so called trajectory.
here what we expect completely gets overturned and the destination we reach and the stations on the way are way off the tracks.
so much craziness in this world, so moch irrationality, spontaneity and sheer calamity transpire that i just gave up on expecting things.
i hope for things, I wish for things.
I dream of outcomes, that are good,
I yearn for turnarounds and reconstruction.
but, i know that there is a wall, massive and impassable between the reality as it is, and the reality that we want.
but this may also be good. so much of our fears have not come to be. so many fantastic things occured.
and so we live on..
if tomorrow the pink flamingos rise and conquer us, will it be so strange?
if tomorrow politicians discover that they have a heart, could it be true?
we can only live in this massive, infinite storm, living as particles, interacting with each other. occsdionaly entangling.
and hope that some day , someone who is kind, will make sense of all of this for us, in an easy dumbed-down hiku.
The force beckons me deep inside and I, like a puppet on a string, surrender to the call. It drags me under till I become an outsider within my own body, watching from the window of someone else's eyes. I become powerless and the tunnel darkens around me, surrounding me in its icy grip. I see myself going through the motions of daily life without feeling any emotion and I wonder if its worth living another day like this. Some people call this force depression others call it crazy, but no matter how hard I try to fight or run, it catches me again and again and buries me in it's dark pit.
im p a ct
close your legs
close your legs
close your legs
your voice echoes in my head
and i did
all i've learned is to keep them off me
to cover up
to be ashamed.
you told me to
my clothes were too boyish, too baggy
my grey eyes always kind of sad
i got used to hiding, curving my spine
i wouldn't try to look pink or bright, smiley or pretty,
it was too late
my confidence was washed away
well nobody taught me
to embrace my body
to ever speak up
"girls should be seen, not heard",
is what you said and it's
echoing in my head
sending down shivers
making me sweat
thights tight together,
words stuck forever
in the back of my head.
the impact you have.
The dead don't bother the living
At least that's what they say
But on certain dark and stormy nights
The dead will have their way
Creeping out at sunset
From wet and musty graves
Maggots eating decaying flesh
Midst their softly moaning raves
Walking slowly in the night
Their stench upon the plains
A fog upon the fields tonight
The undead stake their claims
Perhaps they will find you in the night
When sleeping in your bed
Sinking teeth into your flesh
To be joining the undead...
Slave to the Power
For a while there,
Those breastfeeding hormones
Kept me all calm and rational
Like an old wise man in a library.
Now the temporary sanity has lifted it’s grasp.
I feel jittery,
Like some kind of dosility addict
My carelessly thoughtful obsessions
To spin around in circles
For my cold-sweating brain.
What I really want
Is to get drunk.
Have sex ten times a day.
Punch some random object in the face.
Tell me, my good humans,
Is this normal?
How the hell do any of us function?
Struggle as I might I cannot
escape the invisible threads
pulling me ever inwards.
I do not understand them,
not fully, and I doubt I ever will.
Many better than me have tried,
dedicated their lives to the why
and yet we have made tiny steps
with the mountain still ahead.
We strain against that pull,
dream of halcyon days when
somehow, it might no longer hold us
holding as idols those valiant few
who have mastered its siren song
forgetting what we would be without.
In our lofty ambitions we forget
to be thankful for its restriction
chafing against the very ties
which serve to hold us safe.
We fight the inexorable
like calling to like, calling out
falling towards each other
no matter how hard we fight it
as inevitable as time
an attraction we cannot master.
I'd like to take a moment
to laud such quotidien tyrant
who holds us each in thrall -
although at times an inconvenience
I appreciate stars at a distance
blue skies far overhead
for if not a slave to gravity
I wouldn't be on Earth.
I have a very strong internal locus of control. I believe that I control my future. Not necessarily that "I can just get everything I want if I put my mind to it" kind of thing, but more of a mindset that I have control over my actions and how I react to things life throws at me. No matter how terrible life gets, we still have the ability to make choices about how we move forward.
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent"- Eleanor Roosevelt
Along those same lines, external forces may how the power to influence aspects of our life, but they do not have the power to control our actions. That is where our power comes from.
Most of my days are good. Actually, almost all of them are good. Even when things don’t go exactly how I planned them. You know those days where nothing goes right: you spill coffee on your white shirt, you are refused at job interviews, you lose an argument about some intelectual matter. And it is alright, when I have one of these day I just tell myself ″it’s just a bad day, the stars are not on your side now″.
But after a series of very good and not so good days, something comes out of me and says: it’s over today.
Don’t get out of bed. You don’t talk to anyone. You don’t like the taste of coffee that tastes the same as every time. You don’t feel good about anything and in fact you’re not capable of anything.
Try writing something. Wait, you’re not even good at that. Maybe go out for coffee with the girls. No, you’ll annoy them with your apathy.
Stay in bed, smoke cigarettes like a tractor driver and don’t eat anything. You deserve not to eat anything because you don’t know how to appreciate anything. Go brush your teeth. Shower? What is that? Maybe you should feel on the outside as miserable as you are on the inside.
You know your boyfriend, right? The person that loves you so much and has convinced you to eat again. You trusted him completely but today it ends. You have no reason to believe that but you know. He will call you and will say that he cheated on you with his ex, or he will tell you that he wanted to cheat on you with her and it would be better if you would break up. You see, last night he slept with her. You know better, your intuition, she never lies to you.
You want to cry? You can’t. Just keep everything inside and let it grind you. You cried when you woke up? Of course, you knew it was going to be one of your dark days. Take a break from writing now. Smoke another cigarette and think about what a mess you are. That’s the reason why not even your parents can’t stand you. With this behaviour no one is going to marry you, that’s what they tell you.
Remember, you don’t leave the house unaccompanied. Last time you didn’t care about the color of the traffic light and a ford almost took you out of the game. You wouldn’t want to upset anyone with your death.
You want to listen to music? Indeed, it lifts your spirit. It doesn’t matter, you can’t concentrate for more than three seconds to a song. Scroll all day on the phone without paying attention to anything.
Today you’re done. Stay where you are. You’re doing good to everyone.
In the dark days I lose control.
Something else from deep within me takes it. Something ugly and disgusting.
Something that manages to hide so well, that it makes me believe that I won’t have other days like that.