mix what’s told
we were, strangers.
while he told me about
he was born in manhattan.
all he knows is
new york city. (more…)
mix what’s told
“Drinking your own urine is the actually the cleanest thing you can do, it’s like an elixir.”
I’m having dinner with a Greek classical pianist. Another craigslist connection. He’s tall, how I like. Decent style. Dark hair, deep hazel eyes. We’re both replacements. I’m here to replace his ex-wife, he’s here to replace you. But neither of us will talk about that.
“And enemas,” he continues, even though I’d really like him to stop. Because I only came out for sex. And every word he says is making that idea more of a distant memory. A sheer impossibility. I’ve been here 37 minutes, I wish he wouldn’t talk. He should stick to smiling, he has a beautiful smile. “Enemas are so important. Isn’t it great that we’re both vegetarians?”
“Yeah,” I say raising my hand toward the waiter. He sees my empty glass, smiles and turns toward the bar. Shortly later he returns with my third martini. A dirty vodka martini, straight up with blue cheese olives. Every word the pianist says is making him less attractive. It makes me miss you. Missing you makes me sick. It’s been making me sick for nearly three years now.
You don’t care about that though. You never cared about me at all. (more…)
I’ve had a somewhat similiar conversation with four people over the past four days, I make a really great wife, but the shittiest girlfriend on Earth.
It’s not that I cheat or mistreat anyone. On the contrary, I’m fiercely loyal and actually enjoy breaking my back for anyone I’m in love with – which tends to be everyone.
I’ve always considered myself a servant to a certain degree. I think I’ve got a good grip on how terrible the planet is, so I go out of my way to ease other human’s experience by being a flexible, easy going creature. (more…)
what’s left. of walk out.
his… i… there were violet green eyes. staring.
i wanted to talk about when i gave
up. projecting when life isn’t. wearing.
tight lipped. quiet. retreating to my cave.
four years back. i believed. purpose. worth. while
deception boiled and bubbled both ankles
i executed “us”. came out with style.
i redesigned what you destroyed. mangled.
counting methods of relearning posture.
shooting those. straighten that. discover how
i keep no other option. to conquer
conviction supposedly saved for vows.
touching empty. where no one else resides.
unoccupied center of never comply.
ain’t no going back now, it’s just a line that i walk alone.
in a space of separation
i woke up
my table and
on my floor
and he does
know that when
rise every morning
look for ways