i am up in the clouds
i am up in the clouds
and i can't

and i can't come down

this day is one long animation of my life inside my head.
i'm the pencil line drawing walking along.
in a black blazer and headphones.

i have so many ideas. i have a lot to offer. and i can't wait to show you all.

brush each nail with bleach abrasion
all need to bleed every now and again
it getting all over
wiped on our already blotchy bloodstained sleeves
i'll kiss your stitches, your swollen skin
through the holes of sweaters
tediously picking apart each fiber
borrowing in, to
patiently and endearingly caress the scar tissue
gradually hardening
around your elbows
+

i’ve reached myself in dreams
found the flavors after
setting the tone with sounds chosen
to aid in finding places never been
diving into different parts
the unopened compartments

necessitating the memories
if i didn't write everything down
we'd forget what happened
even if we lived it differently
at least it’s known how i felt
done correctly, we might remember better
on a falsely positive note

otherwise every instance is a cigarette
slightly enjoyed, turned to smoke
taken in, released
discarded

i've reached the world in sleep
walked on pastel streets
didn't see a soul
i only heard two voices
yours and mine
and the rhythmic tones of living
an interpretation
rarely having felt as real as when i'm sleeping
nothing ever made more sense
maintaining my purpose
a presented objective to live for
when fear is fine too
at least it's something consistent
at least it's a rush
i'll stay up there i'll stay there
seemingly safer.
safest when i don't mix the two,
these two means of being; both real
here and there. i'll stay there
where everything is right.
when i only hear two voices.
yours and mine.

there's a gap in between
there's a gap where we meet
where i end and you begin

and i'm sorry for us
the dinosaurs roam the earth
the sky turns [green]
where i end and you begin

i am up in the clouds
i am up in the clouds
and i can't and i can't come down

i can watch but not take part
where i end and where you start
where you, you left me alone
you left me alone.

X' will mark the place
like the parting the waves
like a house falling in the sea.

i will eat you all alive

there'll be no more lies

things that mean so much won't faze the likes of you.

[May pretty horses
Come to you
As you sleep
I'm gonna go to sleep
Let this wash
All over me]

don't make me stop
++*+ different

[you obviously have no fucking clue.

i was talking about myself.

distain for my own person.

no one else.]




little to anyone's knowledge, she could consistently be found hiding in her closet. drunk. crying and whispering to her self. wondering who else performed these unpleasant rituals. hoping that no one did. because no one deserves that kind of psychological punishment. whether or not this was a self-inflicted ordeal was questionable. maybe if she hadn't had all that wine. then again, this may be a necessary culmination of events. a sort of outlet, rarely achieved because we've told ourselves to keep quiet so very often. it being supposedly easier that way. so whether or not this instance was her "fault" becomes irrelevant. the poor dear. she just sat there. in that closet. telling her self, "well, i always thought you were pretty," and "why doesn't anyone want in?" over and over again, until the simple phrases just became rhythmic sounds echoing in small places that no one would ever hear. not in real life. not as it truly was when it happened. and when manifesting tears became too exhausting, she took to staring up at the little pull rope light switch or whatever it would be called. it swayed slightly. her mouth and eyes half open. a memorable perspective. then came sleep.

went to bed with wet hair
now i itch all over
wondering how many times i've fallen
asleep in the bath
secretly hoping something bad happens.
at the same time,
it's a nice place to fall asleep.
and would be a pleasant way to go.

it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me.
it's not you. it's me?


i'll lose my eyes
put them out
burnt by smokes and useless
i dropped my pen twice
my ovaries hurt
and your back is beautiful
always thought i had cat's eyes
they see to much and nothing
soon it'll be fire. fire.
oh. shit. i thought we'd fixed it.
i always think that.
write about it erratically.
where is everyone
do you know where i am
please let me know
don't stop that song. it's too nice.
i've taken to pulling out my hair again.
i need to drink faster. think slower.
that's the ticket.
badly is a word. it is. to me.
let's look it up. shall we?
well, it's not there. in that book.
i don't think people like to flirt
in public places
because they secretly want to keep
their options open. what. yeah. i think that.
photographs. photographs. photographs.


we lick our sores
our cuts and bruises
to clean them out
or at least perform
some ritual.

all the nights i couldn't sleep without you.

kites will get caught in trees
so i'll stand taller. be a better man.
revitalized on windy days
despite the difficulties of folding papers
where everyone is trying so hard to stay alive
except the pope. wonder why.
while our president is oh so clever.
how true. how nice.

i'm glad i didn't lie down
take two naps on a nice day
the end of march
something about madness




in the future, golf
courses will be made
out of metal.
kids will play
in plastic boxes.
they already do.
oh yeah.
i hope the trees
come to life.
kill us all.
eat us up
like sandwiches.
fleece makes me
suicidal.
i mean that.



i used to take too much comfort
in other people. now i find
i spend too much time alone,
convincing myself i'm all i'll ever need.
i only half believe that.
i'll always have the music.
and the oral pacification of squares.
i'm gonna swing and smoke.



there it go.




+

i might disintegrate into thin air if you like.

apparently i need to knock some more screws loose in order to make things work.

which evidently means standing on big rocks and singing along to the moon and antarctica on my cigarette break. that is that.

hey boy, getta sweater right now.


[sometimes people who generally don't like hip hop or rap really piss me off. how can you say that. or be so broad. that's ignorant. i can understand taste, but it seems like a decision based solely upon a distaste from the popular forms. i don't know. it just seems like there's a real lack of introduction. don't know where i'm going with this. i just don't understand opinions that seem to derive from the influence of pop music.]

listening to sad songs again.
brings about the first
of few good memories
some moment of peace had
years ago on dirt roads
near ditches
the first of many many
cigarettes and nights
i never slept.
brought to empty shores
very salty nights next to stars
visions i tried so hard to capture forever
but cried instead; had a drink.
and now i am reinvented
doing to same to these songs
what's left to see
i've heard them all before
and found that sounds consistently change
from time to time.
i can live with that
but all i feel
is the cold that you left
i'll try. enjoy the old
for its vintage color
its musty stale smell
and continue to be redefined
in every instance
gathering perspectives
or a fresh nuance
every now and again.

mah ha ha.


+

i hope he kicks the bucket.
his brains all bashed in.




ohdontlookso shocked.




everyone is lying to me
i saw what they've been hiding
last night i burnt my face off
just trying to be beautiful.
i drove around town
recycling good memories and old tin cans
did eight loads of laundry.
went grocery shopping.
we'll eat like kings now
i bought a lot of potatoes
and about twelve cans of tomatoes
i didn't mean for those to rhyme
it's just the truth.
spent the night alone
it was nice to share myself solely with the night again.
i anticipate hot summer nights;
comparable to nothing.
where i'll drive around town
do the matronly things i so rarely get to do.


[there was an older man at the laundromat. he was wearing black converse and brown socks. topped by black pants. thick black frames and a green sweater. he was really adorable. said hello when i came back to put my clean clothes in the dryer. i said goodbye when i left to go home. he was an interesting little man. while my clothes were drying i sat listening to headphones and stared at him. Contemplated asking him to dance.

a few hours later i saw the same man at grounds for thought. i had moments prior told several people about our quiet little interlude. after he had passed, and we had timidly smiled at one another, i excitedly pointed him out to a friend, who said that he was a regular. he always pays for coffee in two dollar bills and sacagawea coins.]+

she could make life
a little easier
breaking blisters
bandaging our bleeding thumbs

oh dear. there there.
you don't want that.
you don't want that yet at all.
i know you. and there would be so empty.
for the whole lot. for everyone.
especially you. just think.
there there. oh dear. my dear.
of all the foolish thoughts.
let's calm your mind. shall we.
let's together sooth and pacify
those silly notions.
coming out of nowhere. i know.
there there i know.
you should try and dream more sweetly.
you don't want that. really.
come now. really.

i don't know how much more i can take.

i know. i know.
there there.



poor mom
and poor dad
poor brothers and
grandmother.
friends i guess.
poor everything i'd
never see. too bad.
poor you and poor me.
silly little notions
they creep so softly
into the foregrounds of
everyday thinking.
poor poor poor.
that is what this is.
and that is why this is this.
and that is intangible. so sad.
what a pity.
somedays we just can't help ourselves.
somedays we just can't help ourselves.
somedays it doesn't matter
and everything is shot to hell.
what did we expect.
too bad.






but what is this really.
i'm too futile. too bleak.
longing to see this so-called larger
spectrum on life. i'd like that.
i long to see it. over every horizon line.
everything seems so misplaced
and out of order. can't reach
a damn thing.
well. what's the use.
when they can call whenever they want.
they can call me whatever they want.
it's true. and i have no say
nor a frame of reference
as to whether or not they
or i am right.
do what you will
all i'll say is
i wish you saw me then.
i wish you had seen me
at the perfect honest moments.
the more i tried to draw you in
the clearer our separation became.
should have kept quiet
and you could have done the same.








such a sorry secret
it seems we've lost our way
and there's absolutely no one
real enough to save us.
assisting in direction.
it's not that we are far too gone
too lost to find the answers
it's a case of non-existence
everyone who helps, brings hope,
is in the atoms of the air.
they speak
and i've been listening for years
but how am i to reply
to something so abstruse
all in accidental witnessings
fleeting instances
i don't know why i wrote this.

i don't know why i wrote this.
hm.
everyone is such a liar.
so i listened to liars today.
on my headphones.
and today bogdan was a saviour.

there are special people who come from out of nowhere. they simply pop into our lives and there they are. at first they don't mean a great deal. there is something about them, that you can't put your finger on. something something. something. what is it. there's a feeling. you like them. you do. on a simplistic, yet endearing level. nothing special. you have interesting exchanges. odd exchanges. something leading up to something. it's peculiar. can't explain it. and then, all of the sudden, this person is secretly and miraculously channeled to someother aspect of your life. a place you never would have expected them to appear. but there they are. and actually they've materialized in a place you would have least expected. a place you never ever ever imagined they would reside in. and there they are. they have entered a very important, extremely special and secretly intimate part of your life. and they have somehow managed to completely fuck it up. they fuck it up so royally that whenever you think about that time, or their face, which should have absolutely no fucking merit in your mind at all, you begin to get nauseas and dizzy and so disconcerted that you begin to cry and regress back to an instance when something so absolutely terrible, so tremendously devastating and emotionally cataclysmic (that is the perfect fucking word) happened that it doesn't even seem like it was a real thing. or that is was you and they and in real time or real emotion or real delirium.

and i will fucking despise that person until the day i die.
you consistent ruiner.
you pompous, pretentious, bombastic, chichi mother fucker.
i hope your life is a miserable let down
and your children are ugly and huge blundering, untalented athletes.
i hope they're all thumbs.
a bunch fucking maladroits.

consistently dissatisfied.*
someone just sneezed so loudly.


here's something from 2001:

settle for less.
enjoy what you have.
appreciate and cherish it.
the glass is always
half full.
fake that smile.
good for you.

[it strikes me that i have had the same dilemmas in life for as long as i can remember. if i retrace my steps it seems nothing has really changed much except the times. i am very self-centered. i didn't think i was but maybe i was wrong this whole time. i say i too much. god damn god damn.]

when you're up

it might take a minute
you went and cut me off
mice are having their way
they found the flavours
pair of fives; jack high
god damn god damn
i'm no gambler
but i just can't stop

naked lady cards and visors
i like to feel like a boy
but it's getting more popular
it's your deal
i'll slap that smile right off your face

look it's gone
when you're down
you stay down.

that was the manipulated dialogue of a poker game.


no i'm serious.


we like the homologous chromosomes.
the sister chromotids
daughter cells.


..people get drunk on this day..*i think i'll join in.

i am very neurotic today. i feel absolutely out of my mind.
i'm ovulating.


here's more stupid:

you probably think that catfish dance
on a highwire
tentacle trapeze act
cut in half

my mother is dead
and all of her material possessions
are falling to pieces

i tried to tell her that these things happen.
tried to tell her
i tried to tell her that these things happen.
tried to tell her
i tried to tell her that these things happen.
tried to tell her

*
[i felt like writing a cheesy metaphorical love poem. it got out of hand but i think it's funny. which is the point.]
*

i love you like lisa frank loves
the color pink and puppies
like fire loves oxygen.
or my lungs like air and smoke
equally. you are both.
i love you like the alcoholics
love their beers and vodkas.
and all things pleasantly destructive.
that's not true.
i love you like snow loves to fall
and meteorologists love the sky
like wind loves blowing
like hair loves to grow
and shoes like socks
and socks love feet
and the way that feet love walking.
i love you like scissors love to cut
and pens love writing
like embers love to burn
like stomaches love food
and tongues love tasting
i love you like light loves illuminating
and night likes silence and secrets.
i love the way that
numbers love to add and subtract
divide or multiply
i love you the way that lips like talking
to people they enjoy especially.
and maybe all of these things don't love
the way i had imagined
it's simply just what they do so gladly
it's what is called for in their instances
completely necessary
for existence and production
it is all that needs to be done.

*
[i just creeped myself out a lot. i feed myself such lies. i don't know where they come from. some days i don't remember what actually happened and what my brain fabricated. it makes me very sad and confused and frantic.]
*

really fucking stupid nature
and i just love it. just love it.
have to catch
my breath
some seem the most lustworthy
an animalistic mentality has taken over
wondering if you read words
between too and backwards
hope you have a decoder watch and a condom
the charming biglipped and breasted
speckled skin and exfoliation
i'm no two~timer. but i'm no glancer either.
i like to look
and guess or dream
about secret engagements
and genitalistic interludes
acts of reproductive relationships
and the impossible
after sex cigarettes
those to wrap my lips around
sounds and motions we all desire
every once and all the time
is this the sinful nature
or are we all just too thirsty for
gratification
call it a human rite
consideration varies
with such spiritual animals
i know what i want always
*
counting seconds is a specialty
looking at everything, just to see it,
but taking nothing in at all.
i've tried to be alive every moment
life loses luster quickly
i'd like to let this machine enjoy it
but cause and effect makes for the destruction
of everything i have worked
so hard to have
so i hope you hear me
not knowing why
i'd just like to take comfort
and pleasure
in the warmth of a speckled body
we don't even have to clutter the air
with words
i'm sure you do hear
but we always convince ourselves
that they're talking to someone else
i'd like to give love
listen to harmonious melodies
find solace against skin
a softer body
my mind is not clearer
connections may be had
i don't know who you are
then again who am i
there's so much to work with.
*
always knew i was a dancer
but i move to my own pace apparently
maybe nothing's perfect
that's an actuality
i forget things sometimes
the burdens of the dreamers
i'd like to think that's okay
i'd also like to think
i love you
that thought extends to everyone
and not on purpose
that's just the way things are
i'm very affectionate and
endearing
because i love so much
it's just the ones i let in
that kill me
it's just the ones i try to open
that close me in their fingers
in an accidental handshake
an eyeshutting grip
incidental and completely my fault
so i have these internal realizations
it's not all bad, nothing negative
maybe it's exactly what i asked for
at very least what i need for now
nothing is negative when there's growth

*
[the church ladies and i agree that masturbation's not enough]
*

*
church ladies and i
agree that masturbation
is just not enough
*

i like them long in the tooth
and the more the better
the fine lined lovers
and high rising numbers
picking up quickly
no need to tell them what to do
older wiser skin
crows feet and smile lines
minds that have been around
i'd like to think
they know what's up.

***
[i'm not having a very good time. i don't have anything to say. i've lost all motivation. i'd like to hide away for a long time. i'd like to be dead. especially during those moments of gladness where i recognize that i am happy, and fear the inevitable sadness that will soon enough be knocking on my door. i'd like to be done with life during those points. because i am so scared of going back there. it's like a haunted house i have to live in. i'm like persephone. because i've eaten seeds of truth (i don't know what that means exactly) i'm forced to live with Hades for the majority of the year. in a miserable underworld. wow. that was really random. my insides hurt a lot. i'm hoping that they're hunger pains, not youvedestroyedanotherpartofyourbody pains. i live in a very strange world in my head. more that anything i want to take someone up there with me. but i've realized how impossible that is. the more you attempt to draw people into yourself, the more you make yourself feel separated. and maybe that's not true at all, but that's how i've been seeing things lately. i've had this overwhelming sense of inevitability lately. the inevitability of death and sorrow and decay and everything painful really. it's all going to happen. i can do most things on my own lately. so i'm not too worried. i still love very deeply. that's also an inevitability. i can't help loving as much as i do. things are very strange now. things have been strange for some time. i'm only sort of writing anymore. it's all just kind of coming to me at random. my inability to maintain the clarity of my mind, or the comfort of living, or satisfaction in myself, happiness, these are all inevitabilities. i'd like to see the grass made greener. shirts tucked and shoes tied. not really. not at all. i'd like to listen to softer melodies. i'd like to lie in grass during the warmer months. i don't like the delay. i'd like to get out of here. i don't know where i'm leaving exactly or where i might be going to, but the fact of the matter is that i don't like where i am now. sometimes when i've been drinking or whatever, when i'm not sober, i get really confused as to who everyone is. it's like one of those instances where you've stepped outside of yourself, and those who you are closest to become the most obvious stranges. i like it. it's weird and confusing and for a while, makes me forget all of my memories. who are all of these people. i feel like a face in a crowd. two eyes and a mouth in a see of faces. i'd like to yell a lot. i think that might make me feel a little better. i haven't washed my hair since last thursday. it's a good feeling.]

why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?

why does that make me a bad person?

why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?

why does that make me a bad person?

why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?
why does that make me a bad person?

..

***
life loses luster quickly
it has its moments
eight percent of the time i'm sad
that is the statistic
can't help it; i try.
and you can't help thinking i don't
i've never been on any sort of a roll
please, tell me again
of the demons haunting creative minds
how interesting panic is
when i tell you how my day went
i'd expect no less than lack of interest
and understanding
as you abruptly make to take your leave
no sympathy, please.
that isn't what i'm after.
don't be mistaken.
i just like to hear you contradict yourself
after an existential monologue
you covered your ears,
coughed up some selfish rendition of life
i appreciate your honesty, i do.
in that you don't pretend to care
i won't pretend i don't.

* * * * * * * * * * *

the simple birds never
leave their nests
they build upon them yearly
creating more comfort
i am no simple bird
***

i keep my ashtray
on the cold side of the bed
where no one will sleep

*

stand up and clean yourself off
there are things to be done
in this life, on this day
you have work to do
i can't, i'm trying
i don't know how
i don't know how to do anything

would you rather be sitting there
crying to and over yourself
looking around to see if anyone
notices how weak you are
no, i'd rather be catatonic
i'd rather live alone
so as to not subject others
to who i am
so that no one will take to time
to figure me out
and realize what i waste i was

the rational side never wins
that's too bad sometimes
my irrational side will be the death of me,
very literally
you can try and step back from both,
but you'll only realize
that you have no idea
who you are or why you're crying

*

i don't know what's wrong with me
i can't make sense of anything
i've lost the comfort of living
and i'm pretty sure everyone thinks
i'm ridiculous,
which is fine. i believe them.
and i'm sorry to all.
i wish there were something i could do.
i've determined i'm my only help.
i'm so sorry- i'm so sorry.
i've tried so hard
you'd never know how hard i've tried.
everyday i say to myself
all the things i can
to make it
i've forced myself
but i'm tired now.
i feel i've run out of options
maybe i haven't
but i've lost the drive to look.
all i want is rest
but my back aches from sleeping
i've tried really hard, i have.
more that you could ever know.
but i am so tired.
i don't want this.
and i don't want to subject it
to anyone anymore.

*

witnessing myself in tears
brings to mind my mothers face
i see hers in mine and
recall the childhood instances
when i was introduced,
confused and taken aback by
recognizing the absolute
frailties of the human spirit,
the actualities of life,
the true existence of sorrow
and the honest pain of grief.
realizing that age brings no
security or solace.

*

emotions come and go quickly
i can never tell when to take them
seriously- positively- negatively.
they just flutter in and take over
on the days i don't have the capacity
to put them in captivity
to cage and consider these dangerous birds,
make them the flightless,
they carry me away on white strings
either up to clouds, into rain
or drop me in the nearest ditch
to soak in sewage.
they are the ravens
that pull upon the heart strings
and very willingly carry me along
throughout the wet winter months
while i frantically float in midair
fearing the instances in which the decide
to let go.

*

looked nice- she looked real nice
all skin tone
and glossy, painted eyes
i may have meant glassy
her lips appearing swollen
i wish i could forget that face
and that we ever breathed
in such close proximity
the same air passed
through both our lungs practically
you have the attentive gaze still
and i think of all the words that dropped
before they reached your ears
every important thought
that everyone forgot i said.

*

sometimes i just go absolutely mad with sadness and i lose every ounce of rational thought and attempting to retrieve it only brings about more feelings of insanity i don't feel crazy-no not literally insane just so intensely off base that i lose it and i don't even know what :it: is but regardless it's gone and i feel so bad about it i feel so shamed by it so guilty i feel like a wretched person like people don't know me anymore and i don't know myself,
*







that was all yesterday, and today is today. let's go fail some bio, because i couldn't resist the satisfaction of writing, instead of the alternate, unfavorable studying. that poem about the birds is for kelly.



= all these words must have some meaning . .