self portrait

i was painting your picture,
but it turned out to be myself.

get me out of here
all the faces are the same

i'll swallow sand
i'll swallow snow

just get me out of here.

melodramatic eyes

i rise with the world on five puffy-eyed hours.

is it bleakness that mutes the taste of the banana, is it bleakness that encourages ambiguity of the bonsai's existence?

i'm melodramatic.
i smile.

they still paint. the outcome gets worse. in the distance i see the last walk through this strangely bare passageway.
and i see irony begging me to a diferent place that has five or ten more of these cold corridors.

different at first.

but at the end of each stride, the same.

i'm melodramatic.
i smile.

the solar panel failed to make it through the weekend. it couldn't get the paperwork done.

back to the blinding black basement, far far from the sun.

at least the sun sucker doesn't have feelings.

i'm melodramatic.
i smile.

the leaves are turning, sick with fall.

i eat a cookie and my fortune tells me

'you will have a chance soon
to make a profitable transaction.'

i guess i'll buy a lottery ticket.

crack

i went to pick
a hair off your
face
but
found it was
a crack.

and you crumbled.
there,
in my bed.

i vacuumed you up.
and took you
outside.

i gave you
to the vultures
to season their dead.

sunk & salvaged

my mind sometimes wanders
into darkness
and drinks deep
from sorrows
once thought
forgotten.

black-out sorrows
sunk and salvaged.

this cycle
will not end.

for my mind
is a circle.

but so exists the sun.

the blue ribbon

but the ground
packed hard
the sun
surprisingly hot.

breaths turn to foam.
and we will all
give up.

our triumph
will sink to the
bottom
of the souls
we have lost.

eyes close.
the blue ribbon
frays.

i want to leave.

yelling to the clock
will only pass time
quicker,
and these splinters
in our eyes
will only sink deeper.

don't drink the water
here, everyone
is drowning.
but that's what
they want-
not fresh air.

fuck. this.

college

I have resigned
to the fact that
I am wasting my time.
college is a joke.
a bad joke that
my uncle tells
every time
he sees me.
I'm paying
thousands
thousands
for what?
for a piece of paper
signed
by a woman
I hate.
for a job
behind
a counter?
fuck
that.
I won't do it.
I am better than that.
I am better than you.
I am better than myself.
I won't do it.

interrupted dreams

dreams of an old lover
already wearing the
face of a stranger.

a hen better than my own
licks my face and wags her tail.

it was almost a bad dream
but you woke me with
your vomiting.

again.

and again.

i breath in ink
and wish it were over.
i am tired.
and worried.
and think of driving
to the hospital
only to fall asleep.
in this tiny bed
made for one,
but sleeps two.

it stops.
but baby chickens
do not rest.
not in the light of the sun.

i will eat it in my sleep.
when i am a weasel
or a dog.