{Gewölk. Geister.}

clouds. ghosts.

in the air coasting
like a jet engine sometimes
crashing like a jet engine smoking
there is a constant mechanical failure
noticed and disregarded
circling amongst the clouds
and always over the thick ocean
which is continually calling
sitting pretty and deadly desirable
sometimes she comes down
but rarely. anymore.
only when she allows herself the plummet.
most days surrounding smoking clouds
floating passionately and misunderstood
she looks upon her loved ones
down and always over wanting.
grieved that they might be so distant.
accepting painful satisfaction
that at least they are there.
in some ways.
but never all.
nor could they be.

ocean. ghosts.

in the water treading
like drift wood sometimes
sinking silently so water logged
there are the every day attempts to stay afloat
going limp and giving up.
letting the gulls have their fill
or falling deep into muffled quiet water
turning into seafoam or salt
being devoured by the beasts
sometimes she goes down
but rarely. anymore.
only she controls the darkest dives
and most days being drift wood
choosing battles and where her heart goes
she reaches for her loved ones
eyes up with arms and desperation
mourning the faces she cannot touch
with her hands weeping
into water daily
she gives the sea its salt
a body
and a name

trees. ghosts.

in the bark basking
while gentle breezes from the sea
sweetly blow into these little leaves
made for gathering the salts
to crystallize for consumption and sustenance
planted firmly in the land
overlooking the ocean
and the vast sky above
taking care and bringing back
sometimes she calls to them
more often. than before.
there is a righteousness in her roots
and the rich soil sustains her
so she can stabilize the rest
but without the water there is no growth
and with no sky no messenger
she turns patiently towards her loved ones
and kisses them softly
on the eyelids
she gives them rest
watches them sleep
lets them go.

forever i have only had an audience of one
in mind
who is ever changing, but always and only one
who i'm aloud to pick, and do so choosing
and often times i do so foolishly
either way, i scream in cryptic phraseologies
and if you pick it up, you'll know what i mean
like some kind of cheap shot at my own emotions
always changing
like myself, but always never really
we all have our bags of tricks we wish
to put away from us
sometimes they are given
come as presents
and always unwanted
impossibly unacceptable
so maybe that's why i'm writing this to you
i'm always straight up
cat's feet don't tip toe around
and i will bust up those egg shells
but when it comes to speaking loving
i can't help but try you out
and wonder if you're hearing

now the world is run
on gasoline, blasphemy
and hooded sweatshirts.

everybody out.
i'm warning you.
a halfhearted stickup.
blood flows out like strawberry molasses.
i should be so melted down.
my ashes mixed with rubber
to make bicycle tires.
sprinkled into pancake batter.
i am a holistic remidy
turned into tablets.
take twice daily
before a meal.
or with glass of milk.
call me in two weeks.
we'll see how you're feeling.


+


i've been staring for a while now
at this plastic skeleton of a reindeer
adorned with christmas lights
the mechanical gears in its neck click away
and make its head flop jarringly back and forth
back and forth backandforth
as though it were alive and moving
it almost topples eveytime
i can't think of something more eerie
and recognize myself mimicking the motions
moving my hand to my drink. to my mouth.
sipping. as the ice chimes in a heavy glass.
placing back.
my hand quickly and clumsily falls to lap.
while the other holding cigarette is lifted. to my lips.
and puffs. then ash.
back into the lap.

we aren't much different
this plastic reindeer and i
and how disturbing.
plug me in.
let me go.

it goes. and it goes. always all the time. and i couldn't begin to explain to you what that means. my mother says to me, maybe you're just venting, but you don't seem to like anybody. ohidontknow. i've done it again. that's something i can agree on. and sick of self. every action ever made has led up to this point. where i am right now. all the choices. ever sense of determination. ever passive limp-wristed gesture. and here. drinking up all afraid like fine wine. that's not a metaphor. and it doesn't work. but seems like consuming fears. for an hour. maybe two. thinking about different things. i'm going places. in my head. back to where i was once. or forward to where i'd like to be. one of my biggest secrets is the amount of time i spend pretending. no that's not you, because i said so, you will decidedly be this person, because i said so. you hear. no not lonely. i'm a secret agent. and this is the life i chose. it's cold and hard. but when i was young. and those gypsies came and killed my parents. took away the family farm. i knew, even then, that this would be a solitary life. bad hand those fuckin cards. the only things that cling to me are time and death. i have no control. i lack it completely. don't laugh itsnotsofunny. seriously. i can't. i can't do it. my face is caving in, while i bloat and cringe at the present deterioration of my self, who i once knew so well. when people say, what you see is what you get. i don't think they really mean it. i said it about a month ago (i've been gone about a week) and the moment the words left my lips i knew they weren't true. and i am not a liar. the veins under my tongue have swelled. there are abscesses forming in my sinuses leading through the roof of my mouth. soon i won't be able to talk. my trachea is just a honey comb. easily crushed. ripped out and apart. ulcer. ulcer. ulcer. come on. give it to me. come on come on. i want it now. i don't want it now. that was a lie. i am a liar.

baby's always cryin to be better than she is
reachin out to online fortune tellers
spendin time alone
watchin the weather and waiting
always wanting
seeking out distractions
prayin for them to come callin

she leans out winter's window half naked
wrapped in a blanket

in the snow smokin
she says
we should do this more often
but with someone else
with a pretty mouth
oh my how i'd like that

instead she keeps to crying
barging through the days like maple syrup
that don't stick
she'll just keep thinkin through the hours
about stuff that ain't hers to be havin

i want to live alone
and be consumed
by every one of my self-loathing
self-indulgent whims
secretly succumb to my silent vulnerabilities
become skin and bone
transcend even myself
and not know where to go
no one knowing
but wondering if they do
while i sit in the closet
in the dark
drunk and telling myself i'm beautiful
everyone cares sort of
drink bottle after bottle
until i'm gripping the carpet
trembling with my own deep frustration
and curiosity
making the neighbors wonder
folded over in the bathroom
for hours on end staring into the mirror
watching my hair grow long and unkempt
thinking of everyone i've ever met or loved in my life
and how i don't know them now
and don't know myself
and don't particularly care to
despondent and catatonic
getting dressed
stepping out
into day
and pretending like none of that ever really happened

my face feels long
but i realize it's as round as a moon melon
i like to walk home in the wretched cold weather
while the wind beats my face into burning
everyone is too hung up on the heat
but feeling the cold against me
makes for far too much goodness
i dance down the sidewalk listening to something bells
and almost wishing i had someone to share any sort
of stupid moment with
ain't no thing
has no meaning
it's just a life i'm living alone
while the rest watches sometimes
most times they don't even bother to look
which is fine
everyone i work with thinks i'm half dumb
i say things that only make the sense to me
i get drunk in the tub and talk to myself
i pick up trash and eat from dumpsters
and am okay with all these things
but the moments where my brains goes eighteen different places i wish i had someone to just distract me for a bit
so i could collect myself
and not be so congested with unreal notions of nothing
or write stupid things for people to read
and wish they hadn't wasted so much time on words
not like they had anything better to do
believe me, i know
i'd like to not be so distracted
by my desire for a physical distraction
i can't turn myself off
and escape into my thoughts
so as not to deal with the world as it is
i'd like to make my own, thank you
and out of desperation
for something i can't quite wrap my knuckles around
i bake blueberry muffins
and eat them all at once
wishing i had more than powdered milk
which i'm developing a taste for gradually
when you're broke you'll eat just about anything
when you're alone, you'll take long walks
just the exhaust yourself into the absence of thought
you will take too many baths so that you feel warm
on the outside and not on account of your own heat
you'll lay on the carpet and stare out windows
or into space and question the cosmos
because clearly, things aren't working out for you
ask me how i know
you'll drink too much and ramble confusing topics
into stranger's faces
until they walk away
or threaten to call the police
it only meant something to you anyway
i'm really just talking to hear my own thoughts
because there are so many of them
i can't seem to make any coherent sense anywhere
within my own life
and like i've said so many times over
everyone is trying so hard
and sometimes they aren't even striving
towards a particular end
they are simply in a vicious loop
of their own creation
telling themselves that they are trying
and they don't know where the end is
because they aren't making it for themselves
just waiting on something that doesn't exist
until you breath your own life into it