Just to get it out

standing on a concrete pier
with the brazen wind in my face
and the quite roar of the water in my ears
thinking of the couldashouldabeens
between you and i
the reel of our time finishes
and my inner monologue hears the flapping
of the last 8 inches of film
slapping the machinery of my mind
which means you are still there
in a handful of frames
you and i
standing on a concrete pier
with the brazen wind in our faces
and the quite roar of the water in our ears

i’m better with women than with writing
and i’m single

at least i smell like music

Importance

I want to be important.
I want to feel like Kennedy
or Kirk
or the Stones.
Instead I feel like glass.
Maybe I have to wait
until I’m dead like O’Toole.

Problem is he had someone who loved
him that fought for his cause
and all I got is a couple cats.

Faded Scar

“What’s that thing on your ankle?”
she says, pointing at a fading charcoal scar.
“I don’t want to talk about it”
I say with too much acid on my tongue.
“Tell me” is the reply,
in a way that says or else.
“An ex cut me with a razor and
rubbed soot from the hearth on the wound.
It’s her name”.
Bewildered she asks “You let her do that?”
“Yeah. It’s her name. She wanted me to remember her”.
“Would you ever let me do anything like that?”
“No. That was a different time in my life
and I guess you came along at the wrong point.
I have different issues now”.
At that, she put on her skirt
and walked out the door without
uttering a word. I haven’t heard
from her since.

The memory of her has faded like the tattoo.

I’ve been reading too much Bukowski.

Straightjackets of normalcy

I can really be an ass. I can speak my mind and not give a fuck what someone says. I can also give someone space if they tell me they need it. I’m not a bad guy. I just need communication.

Tonight I sent messages to Mary and Sarah. All the messages said was “are we still friends?”. I can’t sleep because my brain won’t stop the tumbling dice. I can’t stand it when someone just stops talking to me for no reason. I have been nothing but good to both of them. I deserve better treatment.

Maybe I just deserve better quality people in my life.

Maybe I need to get the hell out of here. The women here don’t seem to appreciate me. The only people that really do are Caryn, Rockabilly, Tomn, Tim, Ralph, Adam, and maybe even Keith. Shit! When I put it that way it doesn’t seem so bad! I guess I’m just being lame and emo. Maybe I’m feeling this way because I was actually OK with being alone for once, then I got a taste and (like a heroin junkie) it got the better of me and ran like a wildfire through my system burning all the threads of hard work I put into myself.

On a different note, I wrote something for the first time in a long while the other day:

Paint yourself gray and blend in with the phantoms. You are all smoke, but you lack the flame.

In a way, I think it plays well with my current events. It applies well to some people I know.

Now, behold new Portishead!

Museum Day

I make her laugh with the smallest of whispers born only for her ears. Her mirth, the smallest of muffled giggles, sounds thunderous through the somber halls. Minute touches, well designed to be close but not too obvious or intrusive, pass between us. The subject matter in a Van Gogh flashes a jagged geometric grin at only us two. We enjoy the same artists and have wonderfully insightful microcosms of communication throughout the day. We head home, talking the entire time and split our faces with muppet-like smiles. I need to leave the current train and catch another. She hugs me goodbye and I disembark. I do not wait for the train, but instead walk down the stairs not looking back. I don’t want to see her through the window because I can’t stand something standing between us.

The kindling was put alight too soon, but I remain smoldering like the driest oak or hickory.

Vagabond

It’s in my head, you see.
The wandering.
The wanton lust to pack in my life and become one with the currents of the world.
Flow through countries like the ink of a Japanese calligraphy scroll.
I have no love, no tether, no anchor to steady me.
Perhaps my ballast resides elsewhere, and that’s why I feel adrift.

Random Phrase

When you are walking down the street and some tiny line pops into your head, what do you do? I usually let them go. Today I will write it down.

…then you walked away, and I was caught in the undertow of your ego.

Waffles

For those of you who have been around my varied blogs for a while, you know I have this issue about writing. I think I suck at it. I usually erase something where I have been creative in just a few days. Upon the urging of a friend, I will actually start posting some more writing and I won’t be ripping it down. This is the first bit. I wrote it while trying to sleep one night. The words banged around in my head until I was forced to type them out so I could sleep. Most of it came right off the cuff, and I have not nor will I edit it. I say “fuck punctuation”. I hope you dig.

I lay myself down/
Down upon the skin/
of the thousands that walked here before me/
beneath the textured/
billowing, bright sky/
to wonder what brings me here/
to this, of all, ends./
as i contemplate my failings/
my victories/
and all that I left un-finished/
i feel the hollowness/
and I pull the sky down closer/
shroud myself in its vapid stillness/
i evaporate into it/
as it encapsulates me./

Embryonic

hap-py [hap-ee]
–adjective, -pi·er, -pi·est.
1. delighted, pleased, or glad, as over a particular thing: to be happy to see a person.
2. characterized by or indicative of pleasure, contentment, or joy: a happy mood; a happy frame of mind.
3. favored by fortune; fortunate or lucky: a happy, fruitful land.
4. apt or felicitous, as actions, utterances, or ideas.
5. obsessed by or quick to use the item indicated (usually used in combination): a trigger-happy gangster. Everybody is gadget-happy these days.

None of these definitions is fitting for me right now. It’s time to make some changes in my life. The following are current issues that, if partially/all fixed, could change my current outlook on life in general:

Be in a good relationship

Move to either Australia or the UK

Quit my job

Finish getting certified for Clinical Massage Therapy (I’m one state-issued test away)

Punch an entire room full of people that suck

Play music live again

I’m sure that is not a complete list, but it’s what comes to mind right now.

world-wea·ry [wɜrldˌwɪəri]
–adjective
1. Weary of the world; bored with existence, material pleasures, etc.

That seems a little more spot-on. I feel like I’ve been in every bad relationship, held open enough doors for strangers, played every video game, read every good story, watched every good movie, had every good orgasm, ate every good ice cream, said all the bad and good things about people that I can say, and seen every good place there is to see. I’m tired. I’m stagnant and I need something/someone to “wow” me. Shake me awake and steer me towards that first breath of real life. I don’t want to incubate any longer. I want to be whole.

Will you write one sentence so enlightened that I break free?
Show me one place that makes me marvel again?
Let me taste something so amazing I cry?

Will you love me like none-other?