an LCD screen displays numbers and symbols that we cannot comprehend. short shirts truncating "meaningful" experiences. recomplicating situations that were needlessly complicated to begin with. oh, what now, what now, what now? cosmic births. red lips shine through phantom forest creatures.
more like them. you were the only one who waited for me. across the intersection i saw you standing there, with that look on your face. the good ol' days. the only new year's resolution ive ever had, was one i couldn't accomplish. in sleep, we are. never ending backlash.
skin peeling below a glass eye. prying for opposite sexes. wishes when best presented to former presidents. super brain. slowly descending, catching shrapnel with my mind-thumbs. the worlds largest dance party during the apocalypse.
i sat on the lawn and watched dragonflies fly with my mother.
and i really couldnt tell you what i was trying to say last night. i was pretty much gone at that point. to be honest, i only vaguely remember us talking. sorry if it was something weird...
snipped harmless snippets from the corners of the world. shadows rebel after 9:00pm. a big false city. 7O. we thought you were someone else, but you are you.
you are you.
you are you.
and these things seem to follow me wherever i go. a purchase of 50 dollars or more. just try to have some fun.
this was a wing.
and this a leg.
we left our friend on the side of the road.
he wandered off into the woods.
refused to get back in the car.
so we left -
he dared us.
climbed out the windows
and did not waste a drop.
our heads were magnified until they lost all recognizable qualities. we spilled out of empty bottles onto empty lanes and for a second nothing smelled terrible.
at 90 miles per hour the fleas flew off us,
should've taken the pets.
laughed at the cops but still kept our heads inside with every new curve,
just in case;
no glory in getting caught.
and where were you, where were you?
restlessly condemning our activities,
not even aware of what they were,
knowing only that you would not approve.
it's all divided evenly.
crawling around. worlds opened up and swallowed us whole. prosthetic vines hanging from cracks in the ceiling. brown, rusty water. seeing through walls. a halo of flies. bright lights, green grass. as you broke the surface of the voice, clouds rested on remembered skylines.
wits of sour salt and hearts of shit. trite as tracing wood grains in floor boards. triangular face singed the corners. "let's light it on fire!" hemming and hawing.
unfortunate fingers p-p-plied us for
m-m-mucous membranes spilled over onto
our l-laps and we were
oh so g-g-g-gently drag-g-ged towards
.flecks that m-ight have
solved less than something insside
pretending fractals are fans of our sun. i often try, but god damn! i always overshoot. we used to bridge distances, back when distances were a factor for us. we forgot one last night. receiving unsolicited approvals from friends of friends. the cousin of an ex. brimming with wants.
West from where we once fluttered fruitlessly. just out of reach. Before stone sets beset by roads that travel out from within. Nice in form, but without meaning. Were we all "around" when trying was pointful?
I thought so.
those who weren't caught-up were left to run with no one. across vastnesses; gazes were set. while lingering feelings of geometry soaked us all like a blue screen of nostalgia. patterns grow. new depths fall before a million windows. without unwarning, questions were answered. actors and actresses, folded in two, with plans of prior engagements.
for what? when we weren't made of 'outside those walls.' but after all, life isn't television. without the dull horizons that went on before those skies. dotted lines stretching towards infinity. no accessible entrances. wet floor, stone pillars, dull lamps, tall trees.
rendered unfitting for general purpose. out spurted a debacle of champagne blissery. reset beyond retaliation. spent up like moths in cold winds. walls inside of what we wanted before we ever got a chance to change.
with wrought-iron faces, we danced without the glow of the past. submerged. between plaster molds. slurred mouths pronouncing disgusting messes on the floor. creaked on the third step. fouled up the contemplative atmosphere. broken strings. placebo effect.
The day began in a very "matter-of-fact" sort of way. Well, as "matter-of-fact" as any of my days really get. I found myself outside of a convenience store alley staring at a homeless man. He was staring contemplatively at a kazoo lying on the ground before him, that looked as though its kazooing days were no more than a fond memory. I looked at my watch, and affected an expression that said that someone was eagerly awaiting my arrival somewhere that was not here (though, truthfully, I couldn't remember a time when anyone had been eagerly awaiting my arrival anywhere, ever.) I shuffled off down the street, trying to think of somewhere to go or something to do, until I eventually decided to walk until inspiration struck. I walked through the city for an amount of time I can no longer recall. Eventually I came to the theatre and saw that the circus had made it's way into town. Not having anything better to do, I purchased a ticket and made my way inside. I walked down the central aisle and sat in the first empty chair. I found myself sitting next to a family of four: A mother, holding a bottle of what must have been hand-sanitizer, and looking at every surface as though it were having dirty thoughts about her immune system; Two children (both girls, that couldn't have been any more than a year apart in age) looking breathless, and hopeful, and elated in a way that only children can truly achieve; And last in the portrait of suburban joy, what must have been an older brother, who kept glancing toward the exit with an expression that said that he could think of ten things off the top of his head that he would rather be doing, and three of them involved being on fire. I turned a little in my seat to give the boy what I hoped would be a look filled with silent understanding, a look that said that I, too, had once been at the mercies of entertainment chosen with the sole intent of placating younger siblings. I hoped that it would be all those things, but I never got to find out if it would be any of them, for it was at that moment, that it happened. As I was turning to offer the boy the look that would buoy him in his sea of forlorned contempt, my gaze was drawn to the floor of the arena, where an obscene number of clowns were streaming out of a car that could not have, by any stretch of the imagination, contained them. In that moment, I was taken back, ten years, to a brand new drivers license and an equally small car, its once vibrant paint job marred after colliding with a telephone pole. I still remember, with startling clarity, the look on my father's face when I came home that day, with a smile painted around his lips in vibrant red make-up, a smile that did not reach his eyes. He hitched up his pants, (pants that could comfortably hold a family of four if they'd wanted) and gave me a look that said, in no uncertain terms, that the nightmare was only just beginning...