a little scrambled
as I sat on the futon,
my feet shoeless
relieved
to be closer to the final reveal
Covered though still
with my currently favorite socks
awesomely graced
with a set of proud llamas
right where my feet become the legs they’re attached to. I love these
fucking socks.
Tried to
turn on the TV,
thought I
wanted to watch the news
there comes the
reality
blooming like a stop
motion flower, its petals
the color of concrete
that
I actually didn’t want to watch the news at all
And I whispered to the coasters on my coffee table,
“I actually don’t want to watch the news at all.”
Stood in the center
of the kitchen. Watching
crumbs tailgate outside my toaster
Opened pantry
ate some
walnuts, dry,
need water,
In no mood for yuckies.
Should be
hungry. The fridge revealed
a secret desperate to be shared.
Leftovers
If you leave a secret in the fridge too long it will most definitely start to grow into something nasty.
Have to be on top of eating your secrets
They can be hard to throw out!
Easier to leave alone, cold on a dark shelf, especially after they’ve already been forgotten.
Twice.
For time warps
delicious satisfaction
bending it to useless
stinky garbage.
And that's why we bury old leftovers /secrets
in a landfill. Likely
in New Jersey.
But back to the actual food.
Shaghetti squash with a yuppie red
sauce which was fucking delicious
so satisfying, absolutely
right on
no way
to argue that it was definitely
better the second
time. And again
a significant part of me gets carved out again
to make space
For the experience again
Of cooking a spaghetti squash again
and I worry that I won’t feel my same self once it’s gone.
Picked up Time
Trump on the cover again.
All of the writers were definitely repeating
themselves. High fiving
same ish thoughts
together. I guess
there are truths so stark
So Magazined
So Laid Out (with professional pictures)
that no one can move on from them
It's like this collective how how
how how howl
Closed the pages
sighed like a fan
Sometimes you know
when shit doesn't help
And there it is
a flicker of wisdom
Something to nod at and stick in your pocket:
Insightful understanding shared
can be unbearably sad
Decided to turn my room into an office and now i’m here typing under an IKEA lamp
the Cars sounding great through my oldest speakers
“You're all I've got tonight”
On my walk home from Jeremy's house I provoked myself to think of it
as one of the last times I would walk down Eastern Parkway
which is exactly what is was
At some point we start to head for the door
and that moment filling the time it takes
to move on
Highlights meaning
And like a student going back on
a passage, eager
to understand
the closer look at what’s around
makes memory susceptible
to the final shape of lesson. Possibly
to be polished by time
and treasured.
but it's too early to tell.
So why move for the door at all?
Each room, especially a room like Crown Heights my God, it’s like a deep bluish chasm pit of beautiful. The potential
of everything here yawns with a sort of unavoidable passion. It’s as seductive as the push to care
about people I’ve loved.
Memories are in
this trip
to the door,
this mine,
they’re blazing
like gems
on a canvas of coal
like when your desires chant in harmony with your goals
There can be a reason to be in New York
and of course there are infinite people doing infinite things
and some of them are taking naps when they have to
I remember being able to perpetually pour myself through Brooklyn
as effortlessly as a cascade of softly shaking sand settling
around a mound of smooth stones
And I think if I dug
working all hours like a madman
my optimism a drowning chainsaw oiled
I could keep making this work.
Trees are coming down easy
I can make it useful shit,
interesting chairs,
chairs that sculpt the way you sit
Inspiring my spine into the correct line
I can move all of me
to the way I want to be
Today
I considered my room
Packed
with interesting chairs
I think i’m tired of moving things to the way I want them to be.
That’s why the van
That’s why I’m scared of the van
Scared about things i’m embarrassed to admit
I’m embarrassed to admit that i’m scare of.
Stupid shit like I love
a regular shower
I’m scared of That
It’s undeniable
I'm a pussy
An underused human
And it comes to me with a sort of windy confidence
The potential in Brooklyn is a horse reigned by jockeys trying
to be the best
The potential in Brooklyn
when asked
Says it had a relaxing weekend
“Hung out”
The potential in Brooklyn has called Seamless and put on a movie
I've been watching my growth
watch his lover
slowly turn her back
So I’m taking my pulse
Feeling my beat
comparing it to the ticks
extrapolating
Between the poundsI find a gift, clear
like there is no window.
the simple fact that I have not evolved
My perception wants to grow a proboscis
Wants to mutate so bad
Wants to develop a thousand organs and peer down on the myriad of vestigial structures
like a proud parent
Yea I can start to see me now
I have worn my stability, my dependability, like a suit
i’m sick of sending to the dry cleaners
Each morning when I wake
the sun or lack thereof
shines a light,
or a dark,
on how i’m no
longer tricked
by how I should be
And yea it’s a hell of
a thing to identify
just how full you are
of shit
And my motivation
Fired like a grill
neath a summer sky
is the viral acknowledgement
that I've been goin through the motions
I remember that I can pretend to be anything. My appetite for play has been snoaring in an exhausting sleep. Turning. Tangled in sheets. Unconscious. A leftover on the shelf
I can say for sure that I am rarely anxious and yet I know I would never want to listen to its drum. I think this comes from a natural wisdom and by that I mean I know I can look down upon myself
with a Mona Lisa smile
and recognize that my observations will only sometimes give birth to epitome.
It’s like hearing a joke you anticipate, recognize
know, even told before
and yet you laugh.
I genuinely laugh
My convictions are like a cotton candy treat at a circus
being sold to a fat kid who's already had his fill but can't get enough of it anyway
and as I walk
only I know
there are these proud llamas
poised on top
of my unwashed feet
Kings on a traveling throne
