vibrant, miniscule
Posted: August 29th, 2015, 2:31 am
vibrant, miniscule
"Happy," I muttered, trying to pin the word down. But it is one of those words, like Love, that I have never quite understood. Most people who deal in words don't have much faith in them and I am no exception—especially the big ones like Happy and Love and Honest and Strong." - Paul Kemp
as i lie to my therapist,
and admit to myself
that i am lying, about
how much alcohol i consume
per night—i look at
her legs briefly,
clad in a short skirt
that hugs her
hips. she is much
older than me
but you never
could tell by
looking at her.
this i like.
she asks if i want to die,
i don't lie to her this time—
as i'm walking home,
eight blocks, i think
of her legs and
my crotch gets warm.
then i see a homeless
man pushing a
shopping cart holding
seemingly all of his
belongings
my crocth gets
cold.
i think of all the people
this city eats alive
day after day.
i walk by the sushi
restaurant, eyeing all
the plates of the people
sitting outside,
hunger raising
its voice.
i walk by the post office
where everybody
is dead.
i walk past the yoga studio
and eye the young, slim
moms in their tight
pants, and i think,
maybe god made yoga pants
just for my eyes,
or is he just
fucking with me?
suddenly it is 2pm
and i want a beer.
2pm, and all my wants
not yet devoured
by the devil.
when i get to my building
there's a woman
talking furiously into her cell phone,
holding a dog on a leash.
i look into her eyes
and there is nothing
there.
i look at the dog and he seems
to be as annoyed as i am
i think about the vodka
in the pantry.
i think about the reese's
cups in the freezer.
i think about the popcorn
form last night.
suddenly, i'm seven years old
on christmas morning.
suddenly, ornette coleman
walks onto the elevator
and kills the woman's
chit-chatty voice with
his indelible blows
suddenly god's tongue
is my tongue and
i say nothing.
when i get to my door,
i remember the trash needs
to be emptied. i haven't
cleaned up last night's dinner mess.
the only thing in the fridge is
three beers, mayonaise and
a half eaten slice of pizza
i put the key in the lock
and turn it
"Happy," I muttered, trying to pin the word down. But it is one of those words, like Love, that I have never quite understood. Most people who deal in words don't have much faith in them and I am no exception—especially the big ones like Happy and Love and Honest and Strong." - Paul Kemp
as i lie to my therapist,
and admit to myself
that i am lying, about
how much alcohol i consume
per night—i look at
her legs briefly,
clad in a short skirt
that hugs her
hips. she is much
older than me
but you never
could tell by
looking at her.
this i like.
she asks if i want to die,
i don't lie to her this time—
as i'm walking home,
eight blocks, i think
of her legs and
my crotch gets warm.
then i see a homeless
man pushing a
shopping cart holding
seemingly all of his
belongings
my crocth gets
cold.
i think of all the people
this city eats alive
day after day.
i walk by the sushi
restaurant, eyeing all
the plates of the people
sitting outside,
hunger raising
its voice.
i walk by the post office
where everybody
is dead.
i walk past the yoga studio
and eye the young, slim
moms in their tight
pants, and i think,
maybe god made yoga pants
just for my eyes,
or is he just
fucking with me?
suddenly it is 2pm
and i want a beer.
2pm, and all my wants
not yet devoured
by the devil.
when i get to my building
there's a woman
talking furiously into her cell phone,
holding a dog on a leash.
i look into her eyes
and there is nothing
there.
i look at the dog and he seems
to be as annoyed as i am
i think about the vodka
in the pantry.
i think about the reese's
cups in the freezer.
i think about the popcorn
form last night.
suddenly, i'm seven years old
on christmas morning.
suddenly, ornette coleman
walks onto the elevator
and kills the woman's
chit-chatty voice with
his indelible blows
suddenly god's tongue
is my tongue and
i say nothing.
when i get to my door,
i remember the trash needs
to be emptied. i haven't
cleaned up last night's dinner mess.
the only thing in the fridge is
three beers, mayonaise and
a half eaten slice of pizza
i put the key in the lock
and turn it
