Sunday, January 26, 2003

hey, dad?

First day
of the return to
block halls and fold up
desktops and the
old man with mustachioed
tweed jacked looks at
my lips and asks,
"Is there a God?"
I wanted to scream,
"YES! There is a god!"
But it's just a pitiful reflection
of your AIDS infected
father ho cuddles in
your old chartreuse blanky
and suck son soapy thumbs
and pinkie tips,
cast on a pool of gasoline
spilled on a car shop
floor. His glasses crack and
drip with sugary
tears down oatmeal cheeks
as the pool spreads out across
the garage and forms random
clouds and continents and
psychedelic blue and pink cartoon cats from
5-year old Saturday mornings,
back when I believed my sister's shoe was a
video game controller and
I could move ninja turtles across the screen.
His gray skin lines expand and dissolve
into poisonous fumes that make
you giggle when the
air gets recycled up
dental office gas masks.
You turned around and
the body you thought
would always be there
faded into the shelves
of spent oil and metal

But instead, I spun
my pen,

lowered my eyes to the teacher's chin
and mumbled,

"Why are you asking me?
I don't know."

Thursday, January 23, 2003

After hours.

"i don't want to drink coffee. i dont like being kept up when i'm alone at night."

wow. yeah.

sleep is the problem. the temperature feels wrong. it's a few degrees below where it's supposed to be. there's a missing presence and every time i get close to following asleep, it makes itself apparent. it kicks me in the gut and i cough and sit up and swallow mucous. it's not that i'm alone, though. there are people around like always.

it's that the person i need isn't here.

cut out the caffeine, read, drink something warm, and i'll pull through to the morning.

i wish i were better at working and being productive when i feel lonely.

Tuesday, January 21, 2003


wanting to give your everything to someone but them not wanting that everything

and feeling bad even though you have no right to feel that way

and taking the drippy path under the overpass and trying to dissolve the random dashes of rain with memories of warm nights under afghans and electric blankets

and accepting it... because love is more than the clutch of a warm hand, it's more than the need to press your cheek against someone else, it's more than the warm roll of corona-lime breath, it's more than knowing you'll get a smile and arpeggios of laughter every time you breathe down their neck.

as wonderful as that is, there's something else that none of that captures. tonight, my brain can't vocalize it; but i feel it. it's there and it bounces around my nose every time i stutter when i try to say it to myself.

i just want everyone i care about to be happy and to be passionate about the things they do. i want them to wake up in the morning and think,


my hands chatter like my fluoride sented teeth, but sometimes you have to not be selfish.

Wednesday, January 15, 2003


or a brief second tonight, i seriously contemplated what it would be like if i did something really horrible.

the thought went away, but it scares me that i thought about it. i don't think i've thought that way since... 8th grade i think.

and now there really isn't anyone i can tell about it. no one fucking gets it.

"your life is perfect! you're not supposed to be sad! go away!"

"you're such a drag. go away."

"ohhhh.. i'm so sorrrryyyy. sniff! sniff! ...go away."

what the fuck ever. i'm me and that's all that matters. every other body can just shrivel up into a pile of dust and i'll keep living

and living

and living

and living.

It NEVER has to be good enough for anyone else.

it's just that sometimes i wish at least one other person had faith.