tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33640119118518422902024-03-05T03:02:14.080-08:00SleeplessThe ramblings of an almost, but never was, writer.benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-31298198221970747962021-06-08T22:28:00.003-07:002021-06-08T22:28:23.753-07:00Real and Imagined.<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>Better to break bones than to endure the loss of perceived love. </p><p>Better to bleed internally to keep warm than to seek out comfort in another at the risk of feeling too vulnerable.</p><p>Better to die quickly than endure the memory of lost things.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>What a way to live, to feel as though you should be gone already. </p><p>Why am I taking up this space, rather than...</p><p>Why am I here when they are not?</p><p>Why was his voice, a voice of calm, clarity, vision, love, and compassion gone</p><p>and I'm still here. </p><p>Why was his voice, one of crazed humor and fearless wit, gone from this world </p><p>and I'm still here. </p><p>Why will my family be taken from me slowly, in front of my eyes</p><p>and I will still be here to endure it ("if I'm lucky," they say...)</p><p><br /></p><p>It's hard to be grateful for a time yet to be spent when all I can think of is the pain of future lashes.</p><p><br /></p><p>I want to be grateful and present and standing in a glass pool with no ripples, </p><p><br /></p><p>but my mind is always far away and I am standing in the middle of an angry sea.</p>benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-12623492339084509892020-08-13T21:17:00.001-07:002020-08-13T21:17:29.550-07:00MirrorProgress doesn’t always show <div>Because were too close.</div><div>We’re the last ones to see the belly gone</div><div>Or the anger dealt with</div><div>Or a child’s gaze, in the </div><div>back of our minds </div><div>A little less on fire. </div><div><br></div><div>I wish I didn’t have to ask.</div><div>I wish you were a mirror</div><div>For the good and the bad</div><div>But all I hear</div><div>Is wanting for more. </div><div><br></div><div>And maybe that’s what you need. </div><div><br></div><div>And that’s okay</div><div><br></div><div>That’s incredible</div><div><br></div><div>But stop hurting me to get it. </div><div><br></div><div>I see progress in me.</div><div><br></div><div>I see the beginning of who I want to be.</div><div><br></div><div>Please don’t stifle that. </div><div><br></div>benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-27248019707331467772020-07-13T21:53:00.001-07:002020-07-14T06:04:41.065-07:00AnonI don’t believe it.<div><br /></div><div>I don’t believe in happiness. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to-</div><div><br /></div><div>I never said I didn’t want to </div><div><br /></div><div>but I <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline; font-size: 12pt;">just don’t see it.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline; font-size: 12pt;">Not for me.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div>The idea of its purity seems like a sick joke, a ruse to bring you in, but leave you in a self-made prison wanting something else but just making do with what you have. Silent suffering.</div><div><br /></div><div>I’m not quite there. I’m not quite here either. </div><div>I’m not quite, but always looking <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline; font-size: 12pt;">for something </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline; font-size: 12pt;">that I can’t describe in words. </span></div><div><br /></div><div>Something that feels like bathwater without the razor... something that feels like the pain was never there. Something that feels like privilege and comfort and softness of hands and hearts. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to feel, for once, that I wasn’t hardened by a trial of childhood. I want to feel worth your time... anyone’s time... I want to feel like I was a priority. Not a lost cause. Not a lost and found teddy bear. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don’t want to be the last kid waiting outside for a parent that forgot he existed- too busy watching TV with a third bottle of wine to bother with him.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to feel fake thoughts of myself as a young boy. Memories of giggling and running and scrapes from park swings and backyard hide and go seek...Not the real and imagined scars of the actual reality of that young boy. Relied on for everything, for love and support and a whipping post for when things seemed out of control. I was silent and dutiful </div><div><br /></div><div>I don’t want to hurt anymore thinking about a past that's still mostly blank. I want to talk to myself, hold his hand, my hand, and tell him that it’s going to be alright; tell him that someday people would see him as useful... but that child would roll his eyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>That child was tougher than me. He was living every day. Fighting to stay safe. Taking scraps. Learning to survive. He made the best of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>He never hoped for too much. He knew disappointment and hollowness and fear, but still, he got to school on his own- maybe late, but there, red-eyed from no sleep and hungry and distracted and alone in another way but he was there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don’t want all that. I’m tired of being “one of those” stories. I want normalcy. I’m so damn tired of being a story of partial resilience, a </div><div><br /></div><div>I want my reality to be blissfully unaware. </div><div><br /></div><div>Confident.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline; font-size: 12pt;">Loved. </span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>But I’m destined for pain, forged in fire. Self-doubt, self-hatred, and self-destruction folded into the steel of my soul. A smile without a soul. Bullshit up to my eyeballs. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pete Townsend’s most famous line. Knawing. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-28301410442700380642020-06-11T06:36:00.000-07:002020-06-11T06:37:35.277-07:00Meat GrinderDoes normalcy exist in the way you assumed it did?<br />
what was it like?<br />
what is the thing you want to return to?<br />
is it a state of carefree?<br />
a place where crime is low and people aren't in the streets?<br />
a time where viruses and disease weren't rampant<br />
was there food for everyone?<br />
was there shelter for all?<br />
and people didn't judge one another based on<br />
skin<br />
and gender<br />
and sexuality<br />
and education<br />
and wealth?<br />
<br />
Where was I?<br />
Was this place available to me?<br />
<br />
I don't believe you,<br />
I believe if you looked hard enough that you would see<br />
that the world was already on fire<br />
but you didn't care.<br />
<br />
You were wandering through,<br />
BELIEVING<br />
that you would make it to the next day because<br />
you were too important<br />
for issues to affect you,<br />
ASSUMED that<br />
you were immune to the disease<br />
<br />
you had enough,<br />
certainly more than <i>some people</i><br />
you weren't racist<br />
you just didn't agree with some things <i>they</i> did<br />
you didn't care that <i>she</i> was gay.<br />
you just didn't want to see it in a restaurant while you were trying to eat<br />
you thought 'it's just fine if <i>those</i> people wanted to work <i>those jobs</i>'...<br />
but it's just too bad that they don't want to make more of themselves...<br />
and it's so great that she wants to get her job back after kids<br />
it's just too bad that the kids won't be raised properly<br />
<br />
But that was you existing<br />
and not living.<br />
<br />
That was you enjoying being part of a very old machine<br />
a rusty, trusty meat grinder<br />
and it's grinding to a halt.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-48427320288833447762020-06-10T21:45:00.001-07:002020-06-10T21:45:25.415-07:00HandyThere used to be more joy I think<div>In the fixing of things. </div><div><br></div><div>Pride giving. </div><div><br></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">A dangerous thing, pride, when en mass </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">but</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">A “job well done”</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">Would be more than enough. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">“Look how it works, much better now”</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">Would send me over the moon. </span></div><div><br></div><div>A helping hand would make me swoon. </div><div><br></div><div>It all comes easily. After the years... A quick look, an “ah that must go there” a warmth when on the right track <span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">and the parts are coming together.</span></div><div><br></div><div>Better than new. That’s the goal.</div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; display: inline !important;">Though going back and fixing mistakes...</span><br></div><div>That’s education too.</div><div><br></div><div>I don’t want to be this way. </div><div><br></div><div>I want help. </div><div>I want love. </div><div><br></div><div>“I appreciate you”</div><div><br></div><div>I can’t fix that. I can’t make words happen or feelings occur. I can just hope in silence that the effort</div><div><br></div><div>...That I myself...</div><div><br></div><div>Will be noticed </div><div>and maybe loved.</div><div><br></div>benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-47845451363587508472019-03-25T01:46:00.002-07:002019-03-25T01:46:55.625-07:00Then and NowFeverdreams of childhood homes<div>
Worst nightmares of EVERYTHING falling apart</div>
<div>
And no one caring. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Holes in the roof, no intent on patching</div>
<div>
and people sitting around a table </div>
<div>
happy to let the rain in. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mold taking root, insects chewing</div>
<div>
Sun robbing of any youth in lumber, turning it all to dust. </div>
<div>
Just before the rain comes back</div>
<div>
And washes it all away</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The driveway is always full of belongings. </div>
<div>
Things I’ll never see again but am always haunted by.</div>
<div>
My childhood was in there. </div>
<div>
I think I had one. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I remember so much good</div>
<div>
But so much more </div>
<div>
isn’t there.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Thinking of that place more. </div>
<div>
Childhood home, something wants to be</div>
<div>
Remembered,</div>
<div>
Explanations not asked for</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The universe is swinging around.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fever dreams of childhood homes waking me up</div>
<div>
To a realty where the roof is open</div>
<div>
The rain is coming in</div>
<div>
And no on seems to care. </div>
benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-57205265808110061112019-03-21T20:43:00.002-07:002019-03-21T20:43:17.156-07:00PanicHey, look, a new form of panic attack.<div>
But the old ones were so enjoyable!?</div>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What to expect when the world starts to offer you love?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That’s what it feels like. Like the world is prodding with a little kindness and you need to sneak off to a bathroom so as to not disturb your current life with</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
...being happy?</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What do you do when you feel your feet slipping</div>
<div>
Like you’re standing too close to the edge of a great cliff but</div>
<div>
your legs are jello, and your brain is spinning as though you’re already falling.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Vertigo? Jimmy Stewart? Rear Window without Grace Kelly. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Imposter syndrome, thanks Gaiman</div>
<div>
thanks for bringing that ole’ chestnut back into view.</div>
<div>
(I still love you) </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What do you do when half of you wants to thrive. To become who you want to be, but the other half. tells you to stay put and lean into the frustration because that’s what you deserve... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I’m writing again. Something about home. Something about starting to feel fresh again. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But maybe that’s fresh like the cigarettes used to be. Exciting. Then smoked. Then crushed. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-16898997402548653412019-03-07T13:28:00.002-08:002019-03-07T13:28:34.038-08:00Light Through Clouds. Home.Home is ethereal<br />
a place that doesn't seem right, even when you're supposedly there<br />
but you're desperate to return to when you find yourself far away.<br />
Sometimes it's a person,<br />
a thing,<br />
hell- sometimes it's a dog<br />
or a type of food.<br />
<br />
Is it supposed to remind you of childhood?<br />
Friends... friendship?<br />
Love? Family?<br />
<br />
Are you supposed to wrap yourself up in the comfort of the blanket of 'home'?<br />
<br />
Or jump through the closest window, hoping for a not-too wrenching fall<br />
when you hit the ground<br />
of a reality that leaves in an open desert of the wide world,<br />
a naked figure in a monsoon storm.<br />
<br />
The physical place, the house that I remember-<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>...what little I'm allowed to remember... </i><br />
<br />
<br />
that place doesn't remind me of anything I care to carry forward.<br />
<br />
Or maybe the reality of the thing, home, is that it's never there, it's constantly re-imagined<br />
a hallucination<br />
a dream<br />
something to strive for when you're low.<br />
<br />
I'm home, for now... and I don't know how,<br />
or why I was allowed back in<br />
but it feels<br />
warm? fresh? like I've been brought back in time but with the knowledge of my older self...<br />
and I want to DO WORK<br />
<br />
I want to tackle the world again.<br />
<br />
<br />benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-80722871374174101652017-10-25T22:08:00.001-07:002017-10-25T22:08:04.922-07:00Another Hand Through a Wall.What are you supposed to do in moments of anguish<br />
but to emote<br />
to say SOMETHING brilliant<br />
anything.<br />
<br />
The thing is,<br />
that's not how it works.<br />
<br />
My heart is in the middle of my throat.<br />
My heart.<br />
Though I'm uncertain of it for the first time in years.<br />
Is it there? Is it as unhealthy as I fear?<br />
I've smoked the first cigarette in a long time.<br />
<br />
...and it all makes me feel old.<br />
<br />
How do you progress?<br />
How do you become the best person that you can be?<br />
another person lives inside?<br />
<br />
No, not that I've seen in a long time.<br />
<br />
I've always wanted to die first.<br />
Not some morose, momentary lapse;<br />
but a decision. After all,<br />
who am I compared to them?<br />
Let me be that selfish.<br />
It's my skin.<br />
My bone.<br />
<br />
...but I care about the outcome.<br />
<br />
Who am I compared to the same self that was there, living free,<br />
living in my home and acting like the mother-fucker that I wanted to be?<br />
I was something else, a force, a breath in the wild,<br />
I was the wild, at least in the right crowd.<br />
<br />
Now I'm screaming over middle-aged things.<br />
I'm crying over things I'm not sad about.<br />
I'm giving in not to feel uncomfortable.<br />
I'm sharing the things that make up my soul but not getting the return.<br />
<br />
Who am I?<br />
Who am I after all of these years, with less hair and jealousy in my heart?<br />
Why do I ache at night?<br />
Why do I feel so much more than I want?<br />
Why am I not in control of love and loss and money and passion and<br />
<br />
Life.<br />
<br />
We all secretly don't want to care-<br />
but<br />
some of us feel it all for the rest of us<br />
whether we like it or not.<br />
<br />
What a curse it is to care.<br />
<br />
<br />benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-5015468836321458112015-09-09T20:23:00.001-07:002015-09-09T20:23:17.209-07:00Untitled Happiness is not a warm gun<br />
though in a moment one can sympathize.<br />
<br />
Happiness is shared experience<br />
moving though the world seeing it through new eyes<br />
finding joy, in day to day<br />
that has been day to day<br />
for year and years.<br />
<br />
I never saw that sign before<br />
until I saw it through your smile<br />
I never heard that song before<br />
until I heard it through your heartbeat.<br />
<br />
Speed can be a great assurance or proof<br />
when a heart is to be trusted ahead of a head<br />
though hidden pain is often swept under a puppy love rug.<br />
<br />
Paranoia. Blah.<br />
<br />
Let love combat doubt<br />
let doubt fade into uncontrollable smiles and<br />
a heart fluttering<br />
like the tatters of the flag of a once sunken ship<br />
in a soft early morning breeze<br />
in a paradise bay.<br />
<br />
let yourself feel love.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-78839910810995372882015-07-13T22:51:00.001-07:002015-07-13T22:52:21.957-07:00Rounding the BasesRain and thunder outside of a small room<br />
<div>
a brief tour of San Francisco comes to mind</div>
<div>
you didn't know me then<br />
though,</div>
<div>
I was just as bad at making decisions.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm better now...</div>
<div>
still not perfect.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My book pile is swelling again, </div>
<div>
driven by flight of fancy or the insistence of new friends</div>
<div>
though-</div>
<div>
mostly-</div>
<div>
just good titles</div>
<div>
and flashy covers.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A trip to Tennessee with</div>
<div>
someone new</div>
<div>
rainy roads</div>
<div>
familiar corners</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and <i>still</i>:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My hands ache </div>
<div>
and bleed-</div>
<div>
one new hobby </div>
<div>
a tentpole in my chest;</div>
<div>
punches driven by</div>
<div>
a heart full of </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-1105492064068210562015-06-20T12:32:00.002-07:002015-06-20T12:32:13.083-07:00SmallI cant seem to decide if I'm wandering enough <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
or too much.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If dinner out with friends will lead to seeing pain pull up just outside of the restaurant.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It would be hell on earth to see that smile, knowing that I would be the one to take it away.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I haven't slept for more than a few hours in more than four days,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
anemic, exhausted.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't want to wander.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I want to go the airport and sit,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
let the world wader by.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You don't see people you know in airports.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm getting smaller too, watches and shirts hanging on bone joints,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't see the point in eating when I can just cook. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
From all fast food, to some bread</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and some water</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
tomorrow.</div>
benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-66648043376013576852015-06-07T22:44:00.004-07:002015-06-07T22:44:57.171-07:00Letters Not Sent<br />
<br />
I'm sorry for letting you down,<br />
<br />
I know you can really be depressed at times<br />
I'm really trying to understand.<br />
<br />
You thought that there was something better out there<br />
I get that, really<br />
I've seen some of the sights and had a taste of<br />
certain lives too.<br />
<br />
But it never lasts does it?<br />
<br />
I get that certain looks can make you forget that you have a home sometimes<br />
that when people look at you, and you don't look back because you're afraid, or you know that it was wrong to look back<br />
<br />
but<br />
<br />
the fact that it was wrong made it exciting.<br />
<br />
I'm going to let you in on something I've learned-<br />
Rob told me this once, you know Rob, from the record shop?<br />
<br />
He said that all those times you look back, well, those are just fantasies because<br />
all you imagine is the good stuff, you never imagine the fights and the tears and the stress over bills and where to live-<br />
<br />
but in the end, the fights and the stress,<br />
that's still a team sport<br />
and you need that person around or you're going to fall apart<br />
<br />
quickly.<br />
<br />
Take a second and think back to all the bad...<br />
Now think about all the good.<br />
<br />
One outweighs the other, right?<br />
<br />
"Well, that's a matter of perspective" -I can hear you saying that.<br />
<br />
I was there most of the time, there with you when you were fighting with her,<br />
and she was right a ton of the time, you were wrong sometimes too.<br />
<br />
...but you loved each other. The fights would always subside.<br />
<br />
Those fantasies would only last a few days too, a couple of weeks maybe if you didn't try and shake it immediately.<br />
<br />
You should've had the fantasies about her.<br />
You should've danced more.<br />
Flowers don't hurt.<br />
<br />
Now, I'm really writing you this letter because I got yours, and I know you're hurting, that after five years of back and forth and trying and fighting, but loving too- that after all that time it only took her a few weeks to find someone to make her forget about you.<br />
<br />
Yup, I get that, it really stings, especially when you found the clarity you talked about on the phone, in the middle of the night. You said your brain snapped in two when you saw them together; but it's too late.<br />
<br />
It's too late.<br />
<br />
Live now. Sleep, laugh, keep crying (maybe cry just a little less, it's getting excessive.) Maybe you'll have another chance someday, but until then you're old news. Let her go.<br />
<br />
Harsh?<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
Reality.<br />
<br />
Families split and never get back together.<br />
<br />
You screwed up.<br />
<br />
But<br />
<br />
you can love yourself again. Forgive yourself.<br />
<br />
I love you.benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-40479256105937980272015-06-04T00:58:00.003-07:002015-11-30T22:19:20.593-08:00SleeplessThere is no sleep left-<br />
chest heaving, empty;<br />
tears<br />
and cold feet.<br />
<br />
I am alone here,<br />
<br />
my family is gone.<br />
<br />
I have been called "a cancer"<br />
twice.<br />
<br />
I have driven dark roads,<br />
the only direction I knew,<br />
screaming.<br />
<br />
I have reached out<br />
and been told to move on, but also<br />
to learn,<br />
to grow,<br />
to pursue<br />
to pray<br />
to hope, and<br />
to wait.<br />
<br />
My chest is empty,<br />
there are still tears,<br />
and cold feet.<br />
<br />
Now there are new arms around her, and<br />
<br />
I am alone<br />
<br />
and Sleepless<br />
<br />
again.<br />
<br />
<br />
Years ago there was a boy that lost a girl<br />
now there is a man that lost a woman.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure what to tell him<br />
to console him when he is at his worst<br />
<br />
he made the decision<br />
he did what he thought was best<br />
<br />
it was wonderful while it was there<br />
dog<br />
house<br />
support<br />
feet rubbing feet when sleep was seconds away<br />
<br />
he thought of other women,<br />
torn apart on the inside<br />
fantasies, never materializing<br />
all the good<br />
no reality<br />
none of the bad<br />
<br />
she said she thought he would propose<br />
he thought he would propose<br />
her friends thought he would too<br />
<br />
but doubt was there<br />
<br />
then<br />
one drunken evening<br />
she said she would never start a family<br />
she laughed at the idea<br />
and he's the only witness<br />
<br />
then, a few months later,<br />
<br />
she said that his ex was right:<br />
that he was a cancer.<br />
<br />
...he is not a cancer<br />
he is not a fool<br />
he was kind of a fool<br />
<br />
but<br />
<br />
he was fighting for clarity<br />
he was fighting for what he thought was right<br />
he was fighting for what his heart ached for<br />
<br />
and now all he is fighting for<br />
is the ability to breathe<br />
the ability to keep the hole in his chest from sucking in the rest of his being<br />
<br />
he is in pain<br />
and theres nothing to do about it but walk forward<br />
and into the clear.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />benjamin runcohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17384768857769724260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-85771142257974670172013-02-05T20:06:00.001-08:002013-02-05T20:07:42.860-08:00Elephant Graveyard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When I was young, I learned that </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">there is a place </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">where elephants go to die.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As a boy </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought that this was sad;</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">but now, as welcome grey </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">wanders around my ears,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I have realized-</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't think that they went there</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">knowing </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">that they would expire-</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">but more like that man </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">who climbed a very high mountain-</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">he,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and they, </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">went</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">to live.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes I forget why. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Why I'm walking</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">stumbling,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">clawing, and</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">dying for an idea that even I sometimes question.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm doing it to live</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and that's enough for now.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">--------------</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
</div>
<div class="p1">
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.</div>
<br />
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-76337824413061903592013-01-15T07:52:00.000-08:002013-01-15T07:52:54.586-08:00A Chilly Morning <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Complacency flowers into compassion.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The treadmill doesn't want you and</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">the microwave doesn't whine so much anymore.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">These things aren't pure evils.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't forget how to come back home.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't forget how to be uncomfortable.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Don't forget how to scathe,</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">how to ignore flirtation</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and how to scorn.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterdays nerves are</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">todays cold showers-</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">are tomorrows grins.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember the good work,</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">do more of it.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember the good coffee</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">drink more of it-</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">enjoy the bitter</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">shirk the sugar.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember the poor work.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The endless lines about the color and </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">clarity</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of scotch.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember that whiskey will always be king.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">but water will always be a steady queen.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember that the desires of the flesh are never wrong</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">but aren't always right.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember the first time.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember the best of friends resemble the most pernicious viruses</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">cropping up</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">in the darkest of places </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">in the most inopportune times.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Never inoculate yourself to them.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember that bow ties are worth the effort.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember to breathe</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember to love what you do</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Remember to enjoy the fall, and be always wary of</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">the climb.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-80821959645820491742012-11-08T00:47:00.001-08:002012-11-08T00:47:25.876-08:00Journal: Entry 1.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It hurts more to see the past in lively motion, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">not just a photo </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">or from passive memory- </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">but from a flickering film;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">life looks forward</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">through the frame </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and not regret,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">but shame</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">clouds into my blood.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Feelings I've long since felt,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">feelings I've done my best to compact and bury,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">resurface</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and, for a moment,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I feel terribly, blindingly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">whole.</span></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-59562016497751597492012-11-02T00:55:00.000-07:002012-11-02T00:55:16.143-07:00Afterthought<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There is something irresistable</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">about loving an idea and only and idea.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We are captivated by the past </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and the paths that we never walked.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sometimes, without knowing, head wins over heart</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and we watch passively, as </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">love fades </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and reality grows.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We will love as we are expected to </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">we will think about the hard fought dreams</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of our youth's persistence </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">as if they were only the fanciful, </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">flickering, frames </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of someone else's home movie.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We all sit in the dark sometimes,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">contemplating the features within the shadow of a face </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">not yet illuminated in our foyers mirror.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">below,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">in a porcelain tray</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">are the keys to cars and </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">houses, alongside</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">the invitations to relatives' weddings </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and birthday parties for neighbors' children-</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">a whole reality never once dreamt as a child,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">an unwelcome truth,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">a bitter pill tasting eerily similar to the taste in the back of our mouths</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">when the first step down the wrong avenue was taken</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Staring back in every reflection is the dark outline </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of someone,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">perhaps,</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">we should have been.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When did we lose ourselves </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">to the other side of the mirror?</span></div>
</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-13073112988416319382012-08-16T21:11:00.003-07:002012-08-16T21:17:02.070-07:00Seed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="p1">
A far off storm</div>
<div class="p1">
ripples through the moist</div>
<div class="p1">
night.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Laying there,</div>
<div class="p1">
eyes moving beneath taught lids,</div>
<div class="p1">
my muscles tense as</div>
<div class="p1">
a stiffness spreads like moist cobwebs</div>
<div class="p1">
just beneath my skin.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Then, just as</div>
<div class="p1">
an anesthetic failure on the operating table-</div>
<div class="p1">
my eyes peel wide with silent panic,</div>
<div class="p1">
a warm tear falls down my temple;</div>
<div class="p1">
my tongue is cotton, and</div>
<div class="p1">
I cannot cry out.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
It's not a masked</div>
<div class="p1">
killer, or an oily, </div>
<div class="p1">
tentacled monster that chases me-</div>
<div class="p1">
but the rotten seed of a plant</div>
<div class="p1">
sewn from love and left to the frost,</div>
<div class="p1">
many years before.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
We are all each other's</div>
<div class="p1">
nagging feelings.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
They say our ears turn red </div>
<div class="p1">
when thoughtful people remember; but</div>
<div class="p1">
cold fright is more accurate</div>
<div class="p1">
tale as</div>
<div class="p1">
a shadow slithers </div>
<div class="p1">
across my grave.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
Long hours I've spent with ghosts;</div>
<div class="p1">
judging, questioning,</div>
<div class="p1">
continuing ill-fated affairs and</div>
<div class="p1">
imagining unwritten romance.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
All the grudges held </div>
<div class="p1">
out of unfounded, misplaced pride</div>
<div class="p1">
and embittered in the fires of </div>
<div class="p1">
childish haste;</div>
<div class="p1">
fall back, turning around</div>
<div class="p1">
and sour only myself.</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
All of these things are chasing me</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
and every moment I lay calm,</div>
<div class="p1">
resigned to deep dreams-</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
she finds me,</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
she hugs me,</div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
and I wake </div>
<div class="p2">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
screaming.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.</div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-75077751939334575352012-08-12T22:14:00.000-07:002012-08-12T22:14:20.074-07:00Concerning the Blank<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One would think</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">a crisp, white plain</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">broken only with lines</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of blue</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and red</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and sometimes a blinking </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">cursor</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">would be met</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">with the spoils of prior</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">contemplation,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">great things brewed </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">in grey matter tea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One should be reminded of</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">great masters</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">poised fingers over</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">worn keys;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">thundering concertos to come.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yet the perceived</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">masterpiece simply sits</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">behind otherworldly tension.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Dust tends to gather in these moments</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">tumbleweeds crisscrossing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">reminding us of our own stillness</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">glasses fog, smudged fingerprints appear</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">temple screws mysteriously</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">unscrew themselves</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and housework becomes an</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">exotic</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">sensual</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">distraction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Paper cuts become a</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">dangerous</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">reality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For all the notes that came before;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">in showers,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">cars,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">unromantic dates,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">and long,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">lonely walks;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">only the lost bits </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of grocery lists remain</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">the twice forgotten red onion</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">remains in the miserable</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">forefront</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">of your </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">rotting,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">prehistoric</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">brain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="p1">
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<br /></div>
Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-79754776878038142112012-07-03T11:43:00.001-07:002012-07-03T11:44:47.636-07:00Untitiled<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The mad ones</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">drink in dark, unmemorable bars</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">avoiding everyone</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">but secretly</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">hoping for their own reflections to walk out</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">from behind the frosted glass, behind</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the liquor bottles and beer neon;</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">someone to talk to </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">someone to hate</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">more than their last great love.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
</div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.</div>
<br /></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-27315613632000687342012-04-24T17:37:00.000-07:002012-04-24T17:55:39.942-07:00Rubber Duck<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What good is pain </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">if we can't sit in it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">from time to time?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes we need to fire up</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the old, brown and pink seventies</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">spa tub and get a little drunk while</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">watching our past</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">swirl</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> about our bloody,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">bruised bodies</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">like so much flat champagne.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<br />
<div class="p1">
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.</div>
</div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-44386788142404735882012-03-18T00:30:00.000-07:002012-03-18T00:30:05.015-07:00No Longer Dreaming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've never feared the sea;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not even as it bubbled and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">swirled around</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my little island.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've always seen far away lights-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">signs of other islands or</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">reminders of ships that have past</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">or have yet to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I watch the fish as they shimmer and </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">dance in the cloudy water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They seem fascinated with the delicate </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">far off </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">lights.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But I know better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For I fear the lights more than the sea.</span><br />
<div><br />
</div></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-4296576836552433992012-02-01T16:48:00.000-08:002012-02-01T16:49:56.833-08:00The One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One line</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">one direction:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">tequila to hangover,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">cause and then on</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to effect.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No time machines, and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not enough forgiveness</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to go around.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We all miss what never was</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">though we're supposed to know</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">what perfection was-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">even before it shines clear in the</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rear view mirror.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The past was, and remains all smokey eyes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and cringe-worthy first time drinks-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">there's always that one, blinking</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">almost, burnt out filament</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">in the nasty bathroom</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">where we questioned everything the first time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It all looks so perfect now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We hate ourselves often;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">catholic guilt if we're catholic</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">regret if we fall under the banner of</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">'everyone else'.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nothing can be said</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">nothing can be done</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">but hope,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">hope</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">to bump gently</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">on the shoulder of the future,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">smile,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and carry on, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">where we once were.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<div class="p1"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.</span></div></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3364011911851842290.post-81363067835274792572012-01-26T20:06:00.000-08:002012-01-26T20:08:30.332-08:00Walking through a darkened house<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There is a moment in sleeplessness that I find myself;</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">when the flirting drowsiness has faded and the wretched, twitching mania has </span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">subsided.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I stop feeling my own fingernails clawing over me,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I stop looking for the next sign of worth,</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I stop cursing the birds flight and the dogs life of ease</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and I stop dreading the silence of each darkened room</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">as I creak among the floorboards.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I've stopped trying to find-</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am found.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am found in the dark with eyes closed;</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">records spread out- carefully chosen albums of regret and triumph;</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">but none on the player.</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am found among</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">piles of notes straightened into yellow towers,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">all of them scribbled with great intent</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">though, none worth remembering.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm found when the rain taps a paltry 'hello' at 5 am,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">hovers momentarily over this particular address,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">then washes away a moment later,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">unamused.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am found when, all at once, I feel the warmth of words in my heart, and they</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">pour like blood through my outstretched fingers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and pool together in front of me.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am found when my hands stop shaking and my</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">eyes begin to see white dots bobbing in the haze of a mew morning.</span></div><div class="p2"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am found when I think of you.</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am found for that one moment</span></div><div class="p1"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">when I forget myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<div class="p1"><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.</span></div></div></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1