i didn’t understand it when i was a child. and i don’t understand it now. the first time i saw my father cry he had just gotten back from montenegro. he sat at a long table with other men his age. on the television was my grandfathers funeral. my father had brought back the tape from europe. and now the death was on the television screen. my grandfather was being carried in a coffin, his eyes were shut. but it was his mouth that puzzled me. it was wide open. i wondered if he had died screaming. i looked over at my father and his eyes were swollen and red. he let out a silent cry that only i noticed. i kept this secret between the two of us. i looked over at the television and a woman had tied a handkerchief around my grandfathers head to keep his mouth from opening.
stop looking at your smart phone and look at me. i am the people in that phone and you can reach out and feel me. stand alone on a street and keep it in your pocket. you can do it. your fingers are tired i know they are. lift up your heavy head and look out at the country. you are missing the train ride and its a beautiful one. you are missing me, and I’m a beautiful one.
i want you to break in a million pieces. you are so precious and you wear lipstick that makes you look like a porcelain doll. you make me wait until you are confident enough with all the things you do to your body to leave the house. i don’t know how a life held back by a chain of makeup and blowdryers feels. but i can’t imagine its anything good. or maybe the attention you get from the men that you let break you makes up for it. but I’ve heard you stirring in your room, I’ve heard you crying. I’ve listened to every story about a man that doesn’t make you happy. all a blur of the same awful personality with different faces. i was your therapist for a while. i wonder who you pay to listen to your familiar stories is now. i wonder if they feel defeated like i did when i offered a friendly ear. i wonder if they have come to the same conclusion that i did, you will never be happy. simply because you have never tried. i stopped caring and i do not know how you did it but, you broke me too.
i stumbled around after waking up. i could have taken a shower but whats the point. i got a cup of coffee and set it somewhere in my studio. i left briefly and came back to 5 half cups of coffee and i had to figure out which one was from today. then i thought that maybe i needed something better. like b-12 vitamins I’m just so tired from all this thinking.
self publishing i think, is a wonderful option we have in this age. excuse me while i put myself out there. i live out loud. so to all the new followers, hello and thank you.
i want to tell you i think your tattoos are stupid. even though i have stupid tattoos. i don’t get myself i just have been filled with a mean spirit today. something about your smile and how much i used to love it makes me hate you just a little. i want to mash your face i want it to turn into clay. and i do not even know why i am here being ‘just friends’ with you. i’ll wait until you get drunk enough to try and kiss me or yell at me for breaking things off. my feelings will be justified when that happens. so drink up little boy, we both know you can’t handle your liquor.
do you really want to be happy? or do you just want to rejoice in other peoples unhappiness? i thought this today. i thought about what kinds of questions someone would ask me in an imaginary interview. of course i wish i had never encountered a person who rejoices in the misery of others. that has never been a problem for me. maybe its a problem that, more than anything i feel pity. maybe I’m stuck in my head with all these hypotheticals and its really getting me to no place. maybe tonight i just feel like everything is so beautiful.
oh thanks i don’t really know what i am doing
my neck doesn’t turn around anymore. and i am wondering if that group of people on ave A is still looking
my bag explodes all over the concrete. this is fine i say to myself. everyone out is certifiable i think.
junkie crust ounks hang around with their unfortunate dogs. why do they always have dogs? I’m not going to be giving anyone money tonight. I’m in a bad mood and don’t particularly know what the hell I’m doing. i feel as though i may be the most unhinged person on that avenue. but not in manhattan so thats okay. i pick myself up and become impatient and invisible again. my feet hit the hard ground. they stomp around the island. and it occurs to me i should be back in brooklyn. and not talking to this guy i had sex with a few weeks ago. new york feels small sometimes. the guy is talking but i am spending all my time in my head. once i snap out of daydreaming i realize i have no idea what he has been talking about. so i just nod and say “yes…yes”. he leaves and i think i may have agreed to go see him DJ or something.
whatever happened to avoiding the people you have random sex with?
time jumped up quickly. i broke my neck. i got clean while people were at happy hour. things change and drinks become events. i became another sort of animal. and oh how you noticed. i still can’t beleive I’m locked out of my apartment. i am banging the door with my tiny fists. and for once the music is too loud.