Fog

And just as the sky
darkends and thunder
looms in the distance,
the misty drops of
an unpredicted downpour
back off.
The clouds, which at
one point had been
dark and forboding,
begin to thin.
A hazy grey fog
rolls in and the
wind dies down until
not a leaf or twig
moves out of place.
It is here that I
stand. On a bridge
halfway between
there, and there.
I look both ways,
cannot see more
than three feet.
It's my decision.
A bird cries
directly above me,
and a single sliver
of sunshine breaks
through the canopy
of mugginess.
It is my decision.

They vanish too quickly for my tastes,
these premonitions of what could be.

All at once grand and seemingly, suddenly, unattainable.

This is what happens when my mind is left to wander.

My heart quickens

like the first time I saw you,
like the last time I saw you.
This time I see you, I don't know what to expect.
A rebeginning.
A beginning to an end,
the end of the beginning.
I'm nervous, like I'm about to take a test I didn't study for,
I couldn't have studied for (the worst kind).
Facing the aftermath of an unseen altercation that
seemingly came from nowhere, I know it didn't, at least from
your end.
I guess I just wish you were better at planning things out.
I see you now, walking here.
I take a deep breath and...

Leaves

and pigeons
two, no, three
baby strollers.
The pigeons
make the leaves
fly about in
short bursts
when startled
by a passerby.
I'm sitting
calm and collected
waiting for
what seems will
be a quiet
if not slightly
awkward
connection.
One third of me
wishes to give
up and leave,
before I make a fool
of myself.

For J.

swimming
swimming in a sea of self
to a shore that never
seems to appear
a mirage
a spirit
lost, in a sea of self
the comfort of a stable
shore beyond the next
swell
the next swell
riptide
Dirty Fucking Riptide
kick harder
swim faster
the lifeguard has been
alerted
he's reaching his hand
out to yours
kick harder
swim faster
hang on kid
you'll be able to rest soon

Coffee like Meth

it's boiling my insides
get up
get out
just go
there is nowhere
mall chairs
square steps
back and forth
on a train to nowhere
my mind races faster
than track dogs
and I can't remember
the last time I hugged
someone and it meant
something back
take this away from me
take this ALL away from
me.
Take ME away from ME
I don't want it anymore

I enjoy

moments of silence
with strangers at outside tables
with coffee and menthol
cigarrettes and three minute
waits for a fresh cup and
silent nods of goodbyes.

The old guy turned

and told me
"It's all your fault,
except for the lady out there."
and he pointed.
He then reminded me
that the Blazers were
playing a game tonight
and I nodded, albeit
I don't follow sports.

Why does the air seem faulty?

I don't feel right
right now
I don't feel normal
right now
I'm sitting on a sidewalk
right now
and I'm drinking coffee
right now
and I'm going 63mph
rght now
and I don't feel real
and the air seems faulty
Why does(do) the air(I) feel faulty?

IT finds me.

IT finds me and plucks me up,
dropping into a void.
A void of my own creation.
A void devoid of emotion, of feeling.
A place to go.
A place to go to be alone,
alone with myself
to look at myself
chew up and digest myself
punch, beat, console myself
disgust myself
lust after myself
define my-self
label my--self
confuse my---self
get to the bottom of
my----self
Until I am satisfied
and IT loses track
of me and
my--------self

[insert significant life change here]

There I am

Right here.
waiting.
Maybe my life isn't waiting for
me in the future.
maybe
my life is catching up to ME
I've run too fast and it has
to catch up.
If I sit (right here)
If I wait (right now)
If I stop doing, trying, attempting (this moment)
things might work out

I guess I'm not deserving of a normal life.

No house, just a long beaurocratic wait
for phone calls that never seem to come.
No job, just an endless hunt along with the
rest of the unemployed, who are much more
qualified than me. No romance, for it seems that
I'm just not what people are looking for these days.

I'll just go on.
Searching in earnest for things I assume I deserve,
but in the end,

I guess I'm not deserving of a normal life.

It's all the same

again
the
coffee,
the
not-so-crispy bacon

for a while
the
coffee was a little richer
the
bacon a bit more satisfying

but now it's all bland again, versed in
the
flavor of routine

and like what I'm writing right now.
nothing seems anything but ordinary again

She didn't see it coming. The horde of zombies filing past her,
but it wasn't the gore, pale skin or blood that got to her. It was
two teenage boys. Undead, but rigor mortus had failed to set
in before they picked her as their target. A scream. People
turned to look. What a great plan! A zombie victim plant. The
blood ws so realistic, the screams the perfect blood curdling
tone, the blood. She layed there writhing so theatrically as the
boys pocketed her life and blended back into the crowd.
Meanwhile, people where struggling to snap photos.

*Edit

Early morning waking,
sweeping, mopping
but it was all you

crazy ladies punching
faces over cigarrettes
and god's son's revenge
but it was you

blood smeared faces
dirt
and two hour walks,
but it was all you

Leave me be*,
I haven't thought
about myself in days

(*I guess the advice was heeded, don't expect anymore like this for quite a while*)

a cloud of gnats

danced around Abe Lincoln's
bronzed ass cheeks
mingling with the smoke
from the cigarette
in my
Pontious Pilate hand.

don't have a cigarrette?

how about a punch in the face?
that bum too
on the vintage trolley
where the seats reverse at will
thru december

attempts at surrealist writing?

I.
There were two sugars on the table. He was told that the
sugar on the left was for diabetics, and the sugar on the
right was for non-diabetics. Not knowing for himself,
he went without.

II.
Behind him stood two doors. One marked "IN", the
other marked "OUT". Not knowing his place, he
stood for a lengthy amount of time before going
back from where he came.

III.
Unbeknownst to him, someone had slipped him
the non-diabetic sugar. He collapsed into a coma.
They wheeled him out through the "IN" door.

It's dark

with a strange feeling that
I've been here before.
Both in place,
and in situation.

what gives.
who gives.