[ I want to ask ]

I want to ask
how you've been doing at three a.m.
and what does it mean
that I'm always dreaming of sharks
and off-white pirate ships
painted red with old blood?
There's always some malfunction
and I can't tell if it's me
or I just keep forgetting to load the gun.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

[ A car, the ocean, a coal-black sky ]

A car, the ocean, a coal-black sky patched with clouds and a full moon silvering the edges; the green signs with white letters gone dull in the dark and us still somehow knowing all the words. All the warnings, disregarded. Apathy as an art form, as a path to becoming invincibile. We walked down the pier, on old wood wet with salt and decay and only just enough strength as imperfect parts of a whole. We sat at the end with our feet in the water. I was thinking about murder, about duct tape and zip ties, about throwing dead weight over the side. Then you lit a cigarette and the moment passed. You looked in my eyes like you knew me but when I stared back I just felt empty again. It wasn't a revelation, just awareness like a deafening silence where something substantial used to be. Something leaving too much space too quickly. I couldn't remember who I was supposed to be. I just wanted you to hear me without having to say it, without having to struggle t...
Read more

[ Slate sky cracks fire ]

Slate sky cracks fire, nightfall always kidnaps dusk. The faithful lack their liars but we're all just blood and dust. Wait awhile, find time conspires with us to constrain us. Rank and file mind the wire with a minimum of fuss. Rank and vile, uninspired, slaves to love and lust. Walk the miles, overtired, to make the insane cut. Talking smiles in empty faces, sounds that crowd my ears. Rising bile, senses fading; I'd learn to drown my fears. A padlocked gate, a dark mindscape; words just interfere. A sandbox fate, a spark of hate, and a conscience, clear. These last few days begin to stray to what the future has in store. Iconoclast of moments past and a cynicism ill-informed. I can't relate, associate; this prism glass reflects, distorts. Imprisoned concepts congregate in a memory of sorts. A way to fall and how to find the wrong in evened scores, and how long it's been since I've belonged or fast tried to conform. A life so small in time so long ...
Read more

[ I wanted to explain to you how darkness loves me ]

I wanted to explain to you how darkness loves me but I knew you'd tell me that doesn't mean I have to love it back.  I wanted to ask: Is there a logic to these infinite moments, lined up and waiting; t o all this dislocation and how the little noises of a life being lived keep getting written in the past tense? you were supposed to say: If you could change the worst of yourself, which part would you choose to fix? You were supposed to say it just like that, so I could tell you: Everything. I wanted you to ask me why I've been talking in my sleep, to see if you cared enough to take my nightmares and make them yours. I wanted you to know: I had another dream of killing. Of being killed. Of an ominous quiet in that inhuman place where human monsters are made. Just next door, where all your shadows have teeth. I was wishing I could take it back, thinking: If I keep looking down, if I keep holding this breath, if I keep entirely still - he'll never notice I exist...
Read more