Months have gone by... day after day. That same train ride, but turning mostly from curiosity to necessity. Disinterested and colorless. My mind wanders for much more. Limitations unknown.... but of quite sure of their existence, always hoping there's one out there to prove me wrong.

Goodbye. Not yet ready to say it to her, but to my feelings. Disconnecting my soul. My heart. Disconnect what I strive for, lose my goal. Be done... cold turkey.

Now a few months later, I look at what was. I used that word relentless.... never letting up, always persistent. Obviously I was wrong. It did let up. And I lost it. Why... did I change. I have not a clue. I scour my brain for thoughts.
I begin to chase the past. It becomes clear. It shows itself. It is my dependency.

Now to change once more. Let it go. Relinquish my flaws. Let it go. Let her go. It won't happen.

Now I'm not sure. My thoughts are one-sided. I run circles... always seeming to agree but ending up in the same locale. I'll always feel the same way. Always. I'm mad. I don't know how long I can hold on to it. Hold on to a dream. It'll only last for one night. And when I arise its back to my sad reality... delirium. Selective ears and eyes. Filtering the truth. Receiving the optimism. Dreaming a future, yet foreseeing only a past.

Now all I want is approval. Come to me and say I am great. This is what keeps me here. This is my source of joy. I'll agree with you. I'm wonderful.

So scared. My heart beats a million times. My jaw is clenched, I'm afraid of my own words. But I write with intent. Yet I'm my own puppet. I don't speak or react... ever. Always alert of the audience, I manipulate the words to appease. I know what they want.

Too much for me to handle.... Im done here.

Sometimes, in a clouded mind.
Other times not.
Fronts are moving in...
be prepared for anything.
I've got my rain boots,
I've got an umbrella.
I'll find myself in a bunker... alone.
When will this let up?
When will there be time for me?
I'm afraid I'll die here.
Unaccompanied and inexperienced.
What's the point?

My sanity was expelled with the other toxins through my pores.
My confidence shattered with the closure of the words.
Go home? Obviously you're already there.
I feed into the misery and pull teeth out of their enclosures.
I bleed every day all over my fucking self and wallow in the mess.

I enjoy this.
You would think.

This morning, I feel like I never went to sleep at all. Drunk's a feeling. Morning after, usually sober. Not today. Kind of wish I was. Kind of wish I had another drink. Don't want to feel like this, though. Is drunk better than morning after drunk? Not sure.
My fingers scan the keyboard looking for the right combination of strokes to portray my madness. Funny thing. I just don't understand my madness. I must be mad.
My hands. Ugly and swollen. Thirsty. Yes. For Water. Soda and Vodka... Good idea?
At least today I am free of obligation. Well, not really. There are things I ought to do. I passed out in a plate of chicken nuggets last night. Honey mustard and all. Not too messy. I dispense the mustard as needed. Crumbs everywhere. If I was sober I'd clean it the fuck up. But I'm not. So I cannot.
Keep on keepin' on.

This Morning's Coffee

A few things I jotted down, in my usual state of morning restlessness.


These days... I feel as stable as a crooked bookshelf. My knowledge falling over itself, all that I know... falling to the ground. Placemarkers lost, can't even remember where I left off. The known has escaped, replaced by assumptions and inferences.

Lonliness is more overbearing than usual. Everyone I know, busy with their glamorous lives. Where does this leave me? Stuck. I'm broke, bored, drunk, and horny. I need a lover. Whenever I think I found the right one... its just never what it seems. Their other one always seem to interfere. But they're fond of me and just cannot let me go. Why must I attract these preoccupied girls.

I'd better be careful with this particular study. This one is wonderful. She says one day it'll happen. Today's a day. True Story. Tomorrow's a day. For some reason I think it'll only happen at night.

When I watched her this particular day, I remember it clearly. It was on the second half of a bender. We shared a hangover cocoon in the form of my bed. She was wearing a gorgeous little black dress, and in that hangover daze, it had worked its way almost completly up her tan thighs. Her little white underwear, peaking out, almost taunting me. In the heat of July, and the booze seeping out of our pores, a proposition to go swimming was agreed on and acted upon. Late afternoon, and at the pool, I could not help but stare in awe of her beauty. We laughed at the lifeguards and other characters in attendance at the city's public pool. When it was all said and done, back with Him, she will always be.

work in progress

I've always been a light sleeper. My mind buzzing with the first ray of light. My mental alertness fighting my physical fatigue. I get up to dispose of last nights bender. While in the bathroom, I gaze into what I am. The tired eyes and trembling body...
I know sit on that same rug, in that same place, with the same pen, and the same drink. What's different is my state of mind. After she tore my limbs off, systematically, I can do nothing but sit in this spot and think of all my wrong-doings. Why did I have to appear to be so parasitic? Why must I BE so parasitic? She doesn't need me, but I sucked the life out of her. Not even satisfied until there was nothing left to indulge on. Unanswered phone calls... An apparent disappearance off the face of my perceived world. These were my cues that I no longer had this one to hold at night.
This isn't the first time. I've got quite the habit. I ash my cigarette and stir my thoughts for an unturned feeling. Nothing. Same old loneliness, same old anxiety. These women, girls really... These girls that I have latched onto, dug my ugly hands into... they always have a way of inadvertently latching onto my mind. My thoughts and by brain. Every electronic pulse and neuron seem to be melded with a dash of testosterone. Every brain wave pattern, en route to a females face. I have become obsessive.
Awareness... a key to conquer my problems. So you'd think. Yes, I'm aware, yet fall into the propensity of a vicious cycle. I pour another drink. A toxic relationship... A former lover once diagnosed ours as such. I'm drawn to these self-destructive tendencies.
My weight has dropped recently. My laundry has begin to pile and the recycle bin is overflowing with spent forties and liquor bottles. Its mid summer, and the heat fills this wretched apartment. I light another cigarette. I smoke it in its entirety without taking a single breath of fresh air between drags. I guess I feel better now. My drink has depleted itself. I brew a cup of coffee. After all its 7:30 am.


I'll take a walk. My eastward facing door slowly opens. The early morning sun blinds me. I make towards the intersection. Stumbling in a more than graceful manner, I avoid the other foot traffic. I obtain a weekly and another cup of coffee at the Tedeschi. I find that rarely these contain enjoyable stories, but I still have hope.
The T pulls up as I attempt to cross the street. No other plans so I take the ride. I pay the fare... the train is fairly empty, after all its Sunday. It seems the whole city is still in bed, asleep with hangovers, probably. I sit in a single seat to avoid having an unwanted travel companion and sigh in physical exhaustion. A pretty girl in sunglasses is hunched over in her seat across from mine. Her head rests upon her open palm.... elbow resting upon the seat in front of her. Her unaffected expression is not the most flattering but her lightweight white dress compensate for it. I wonder if beyond her trendy accessories, those eyes are checking me out.
I look at myself... I'm wearing slim jeans, black in color. My belt is pulled through to the last notch. A small white Hanes tee, my Dr. Martens, and a blue army-style cap. My beard is getting quite full but I keep it neat. My hair quite long but I get it trimmed twice a month. Well... long for me, I think. I step off the train and find myself in the common.
With noontime, my thoughts stray down different paths. This is somewhat of a relief for me. I mean after all, I did fuck her the first night I met her. Why must all relationships be something special. I mean, well, we did have some really fun afternoons together. We rode bikes.... we rode bikes equipped with vodka nippers, can of spray paint, and a relentless sexual attraction. These were fun times. Why can't it be JUST that. I light another cigarette. I've calmed myself since morning.
Newspaper completed, and a vat of useless knowledge... I proceed to head back towards my apartment, only by foot this time. As I pass by another Tedeschi, I pick up a pack of reds and a bottle of water. Ten bucks. What a waste of money I think to myself as I light the first one.

I love Life.

Its gorgeous outside.

Horrible Poetry Weather.

I've never done this before.
This is God awful.

But inevitable.

And I'm alive.
So, I guess I'll start drinking.
I drink, therefore I am.

Blue skies,
Not even a partly clouded mind.

These thoughts are sparse.

And my elation, unmatched.

A bike ride?

Maybe.

My modern romantic endeavor, obtained.
Who am I?
What have I become?

I'm surely no River.
Or burst of genius.

Was that an allusion...
or illusion.

Perhaps.

Absinthe and Halloween Costumes

...see notes below...

I'm quitting poems, six days clean.
Max, Max, wish you were covered in wax.
So I could never touch you.
And my boyfriend would not ? what I do.
We shamelessly spend our nights together.
I used to tell him, "Oh, hey... what's up?"
But then... I got stuck
Between a rock and a hard place.
We fought.
But He Knew.
It was best for me,
To still
See your face.

Oh [deletion],
on my shoulder
I'd like to hold her
But I won't.
Cuz I Shon't.

Next Verse. I Smile and smile.

Like a Haiku.
What can I do.
But Smile
(more alcohol)

OF COURSE!!!

Vodka Induced Poetic Slurry

...out of context...
...typed as written...
...written as orated...

You know your fickal.
If this was the sandlot,
your love would be a pickle.
But, Max, my dear....
-your my LITD.
-between you and I:
this is a secret.
And my baby boy, I hope you can keep it.
I have to ash, between me, Max...
I will not throw you in the trash.
My ash will grow, so will my love for you, ya know?

I'm out of thoughts =w= makes my bran distraught.
So becomes my sweater. Tear it off?
I BETTER! because my true love lies
a million miles away, and with him, I've got to stay.
END. FIN.