31 July 2011

She has the face of someone who will die young.
(Spending all day with children, you're suspended in a place that's not your own. A hazy memory place.)

She has the face of someone who will die young.
(They trapped me in their childhoods. A shadow figure in an apron with an outdated hairstyle.)

She has the face of someone who will die young.
(I am shoes on linoleum. A cigarette lighter. A cheap pocketbook.)

She has the face of someone who will die young.
(I am a source. A history. They remember the hollows of my face. The outline of my profile.)

She has the face of someone who will die young.
(They started to remember me while I was still alive. They murdered me with their reverence. Now they finger my rings and eyeglasses like relics.)

She has the face of someone who will die young.
(Pose me with my hand over my eyes, shielding them from the sun. Position me with my face in the light but obscured.)

20 July 2011

When the spirit breaks,
That's when the crying stops.
Your thoughts are only an asterisk above your head.

In that moment you are aware of your whole body.
You can feel all the way
From the outside of your belly,
To the inside of your spine.
You know there ought to be blood and guts between,
but instead there is only a stale, green air.

Before the spirit breaks
It looks like a slat from a Venetian blind.
After, if looks like one broken up
In sections of various lengths.
Or after a while
It looks like that.

It happened to me,
And I'm still alive.
But I can always hear its rattling around in there
As I walk to and fro.

13 July 2011

Yesterday I saw my potential passing me on the highway.
Smoking.
It gave me the finger as it went by.

Once I saw my potential in an alley behind a bar eating out of a trashcan.
It barfed on my shoes and I looked at it with the disgust and it just laughed at me.
"I hate you, you asshole," I told it.

Another time my potential called me in the middle of the night trying to get me to loan it money.
It went, "Blah, blah, blah, anyway so I'm really hurting, I'll pay you back later, I swear."
I was like, "Fuck you, you lazy dickhead some people actually work for a living. You should try it sometime. Click."

Somebody who's seen my potential naked recently told me that it got a really shitty tattoo on its ass. They told me it looked really cheap.

So what am I supposed to do when people ask me about it? I just have to stand there looking ashamed.

Sometimes it emails me gross pictures of diseased genitals.

I still secretly love it though.