No thanks, Salem

In the middle of the night, you wake up.

From a soft, half-life of dreaming you are delivered into a dark sort of consciousness.
Your eyelids stretch and press back against the black but your pupils find nothing to hold onto.
Soon the black opens into flowered, transient designs of light remembered.
You touch your face. It is there.
Somewhere, a Danger begins.
You hear its slow, padded beat...like footsteps approaching.
The lightswitch is a million miles away.

this drawing has digestive issues

journal nightscene

Two Men are Talking at the Mall

Our biggest problem is that we have to chase after them.
The trick is to know: you’ll get her eventually.
Then you do and she’s just there-
wanting you to be honest
but honesty’s a prick with a big fat knife and trust is shredded lettuce.
So I tell her that I’m lonely
and I’m controlling my body.
my crooked crotch. my blunderbuss.
Then one day she makes her taco with shredded lettuce.
I tell her: “You little bitch, that smells so good.”
…her face looks old, then...a scrunched up paper bag…like she just smelled something foul
and it was you. I mean me.
So much for honesty.

You see those mannequins? I’ve got one at home
in the hall closet with all my vacuum attachments.
Of all the air-breathing ones, none is more adaptive than this one.
The mouth moves in and out.
You are free to choose your level of contentment.
After awhile,
the struggle stops.

no door for the doorknob

Maybe it's all wrong. Maybe everything that everyone tells you is right, is sensible, is logical..is wrong. For you, at least. Maybe the reason you feel so de-valued and taken for granted is because you have allowed yourself to be led into environments where you are constantly set up for failure..despite the soul-crushing hard work you put into proving your competence and worth in these environments. No one sees your hard work, not really. No one sees you shine there, least of all those people you are trying so hard to impress..and how could they? How could they do anything less than take you for granted when you DON"T BELONG THERE. These places, these values, these tedious tasks you are trying so hard to complete are not yours, are not really valued by you at all so it's no wonder you feel so empty and confused and trapped. No one is accepting you for you because you are not being you. Maybe you should quit trying to be "good" for people who do not even share the same ideas as you as to what "good" even is. Their good is your bad. Maybe you've been so focused on what you think you want, that you have overlooked the fact that you don't have to get what you want THIS WAY. Maybe it is too hard this way, and instead of working harder you should simply stop working and take a look at what happens. Will it just tank without all your work? Does anyone else help out? Do you really want to live a life where in order to keep things from sinking, it is all up to you and your constant struggle to keep your head afloat? Sure, it is good to stand up for yourself and everyone has to do that from time to time. But do you really want a life where you must constantly stand up to the people who are closest to you time and time again to prevent them from pushing you out of your own life? Your own identity?
Maybe you should put it down and walk away.
Maybe if you do, everything will fall apart.
Maybe it needs to.

I made the wrong decision. I should have jumped before I looked. I chose the wrong door. I should have picked the mystery prize. I'm sorry, Saren.

"Are we going to prom or to hell?"

It's 20,000 leagues under "what now?"
The jury's out
Thumbs twiddle in the waiting of an empty page
throw a dart at the calendar to find Judgment Day
***

Ladies...Hard Work Really Does Pay Off!

I dyed my hair, dear
scooped my pits clean of hair
and scraped that rusty blade up and down my legs
Slathered my skin with baby oil and laid in the sun
to get that sexy bronzed cancer look you are so fond of
I even paid someone
to pour hot wax on my crotch and.....
I screamyouscreamweallscreamforBEAUTEEEEEE!!!
plucked the hairs from betwixt my brow..
do you think I'm pretty now?
I emptied my bookshelves of Jong and Foucault
and filled them back up with Vogue and Cosmo
The diet's going great...since I can't afford groceries
I ran up five credit cards
on make-up and eye creams and cellulite balms
I worked three jobs to pay for
these two silicone mountains men so adore
Had needles full of botulism paralyze the lines around my mouth
I can't smile now
but I assure you, on the inside..
I'm so proud!

Hospital Bed

I told the doctor to:
"give me pain. I approve of it"
In the hospital bar I order
a shot of Lorazepam and a medical juice chaser
And everywhere there are diseases.
I rest when I can
beneath the dark wing of a half-open door
one ribbon of light spilling in
But there's no rest for the Sickness
The nurses are bitches
but it's the needles that bite.
Saline carries the thing
that wet pharmaceutical sleep
entering my palms like the holy spirit
a reverse stigmata
the walls are splattered with Hallmark
telling me to get better
to count my blessings
But I've looked this gift-horse in the mouth and only counted cavities
Somewhere the family is waiting
tapping the glass
like rude zoo patrons
bets are made on who will win
but I am not fighting
I am just waiting for the sheep of sleep to come in
It's too hard to count them
when the corners of this room are always moving
"Ma'am, could you open the window please. It's July."
Now my eyelids are falling
I'm counting the sheep
as they one
jump
two
jump
three
out of the sick room
out into
the un-marked green of the night.

"Nothing exists beyond this",

sings the world, glaring at me from its yellow sockets.
"Nothing exists beyond now."
I challenge the stale yellow light to a duel.
-Jeanette Winterson



An empty page is like a broken day and we draw lines in the sand but sand blows away.

wait. what was I looking for again?

Mind full of memory, people tell me I'm slipping into time travel..as if it were as simple as a banana peel.
Stranger, I want to convey to you.. connect to you.. begin conversations that will begin revolutions (or at least a riot) but how the hell does such a thing start?
People collide here so rarely, always stepping too gently around each other their timid footsteps could barely crack a twig.
My hair irritates - blows strands that stick to the face - pulling strings away
Fuck. I am sick of waiting for you people.

Goose, Newt, Cecelia, Allyn, Jack, ...