walking over twilight

i have been writing sporadically, on and off, be them for characters or just spur of the moment monologues or bursts of lines. i have nowhere really to put them, and i haven't shared them with anyone. so i'll put some here. i lost my confidence in my ability to be an enticing writer, to be completely honest with you. it was something of a point of pride for me my entire life, now i don't very well think i'm good at anything. i haven't been myself. i'm talking through another lens, it isn't me, i don't know who it is. maybe you can tell me.

free radio harley

i love you xoxo

p.s., listen to more pulp. it's good for you.

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001 [cut-up]

the dog cannot remember a thing he simply reacts with naive movement as though he knows what to do.

he is just as lost as any of us.

a fixture of love which refuses

to stay mounted into the wall.

you don’t know her anymore

the world could explode into smoke right now

willow trees kissing

a murder of love, away she came back

crawling like shadows to the ocean

to be loved

it was all the man who did not look like a man wanted. simple tasks. crowds. in those dim, dumb lights that didn’t know how to shine correctly.

the weakest twig on the branch

with eyes that are just holes.

loyalty and no meaning

never to reach space -

nor come back down again.

on great heights of beauty and the shallows

just the things which don’t move.

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002

all of your money goes to blues the size of tear drops and when all the sun’s been washed out, you’ll never remember the colour, and all he things you do you do for this. to be just like this forever.

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003

enshrined in fleeting colours and pixelized, oozing all over the crevices and into one fold where i hold you for all of eternity, to say to you: you are mine and you are the prism through which all shades grow from, that fractured neon of living and if i could only grow one colour. just one new colour for you, i would. i would blossom for you one more time, even if i rapidly wilt and fall, for you to have the experience of a new life.

a new, better life to die in.

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004

and of course i am left with the scathing reality that is, i am all this lonely down here, without depth or grasps on the arrows pointing downwards.

i’m left; it’s here — right here, see thee blood over there? can you recall what it’s all really like? a man alive in his own bed, or dead in his grave — cousins, in a way.

i can buy an escape for $20 on a wendsday.

i can make up something beautiful for you, because i love you, and i want you to think something wonderful can last more than a few minutes. it’s why that needle has yet to spike — i know it won’t ever be as good as the first time but then again, every time is as bad as the first time, til that right hour passes. years pass.

if i could wrap myself in plastic and contain myself, i would stop this spraying of erratic and disgusting colour — like i’m falling apart and coming alive again. i cannot relate — i am a sincere liar, a lonely hypocrite, i come to you only as I and the Self which does not compute with this manuscript. we weren’t supposed to make it past 18, i’m not sorry, this is dead time. “won’t hurt a bit.”

i've been living on dead time. i've seen this movie before, i've walked this walk back to the coldest room. i’m still watching this movie after all these years, and that craning saxophone like the bending of a skyscraper’s tip, and the ending of it all, and a bottle of sake. and five years dead time, since you’ve been gone — since you’ve been gone — since you’ve been gone.

the world was supposed to end when the star went out, but i feel like a flea in an unwanted bed. sifting through fluids, breathing in liquids, coming apart only to fall together again. this ceaseless breathing — the ending, i can’t even breathe straight, let alone think.

i breath stuttering, im precise in my speech and mean everything i say except for when i’m lying, which is always, to give you something to remember me by. a cowlick or a bite or a witty comeback or a record or that $20 you owe me.

i don’t care. the sky’s fallen thousands of times before. i don’t care. i won’t catch it this time.

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005

i will love you until the end

of time and whenever that stops i will

remember you fondly; like a rose bush

you always found fond despite the

thorns falling in the path of the garden

and the blood which was drawn from them.

i will not remember the bloodshed;

i’ll try to keep you in amber where

perfection does not rot and beauty

lasts forever in a sweet honey drip.

i will not see reality;

as it is not the truth of love.

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006 (san antonio)

i pinched myself through a hole in the moon

and slithered in front of the through line

saw myself back home and fronted myself

the cash for a drive back to the heart of the city

strapped myself to the liquor store

screamed til they demolished it

for the livelihood of man

and that was the day i liberated the alamo

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have a good day.