I’m sitting on the edge of tears.
Death by 1,000 paper cuts.
Thin-skinned.
Ankle deep in things I wish I would have said.
Chosen victim,
Fool,
Coward.
Do not be so hard on yourself.
It is brave to feel
And to love.
But it is also stupid.
Ankle deep in all the things I might say one day.
Just don’t fuck up the mood tonight, ok?
Thin-skinned.
See-through.
Blue veins.
Blue brain.
One day, I will step off this tightrope.
Why do I always cry when I think about why I love you? Why am I so scared? It is a new experience. It is like feeling heat but not knowing the source. And then One day you realize You're able to open the frosted glass doors. And behind them There is the fire. Burning with peaceful conviction. Patient warmth. Something new but familiar. Beautiful but risky. Contained but powerful.
Wears a misty cap.
And the asphalt sings
With a metallic odor.
This feeling hangs
Like a lead shawl
Drawing down my eyelids
Against the white sky.
Coastal sage scrub
Pleads on the side of the I-15
For the brush of a coyote’s tail.
Desperate optimism.
Anger, taps on the glass window
Annoyed that it has to wait.
But it’ll wait,
Even if it takes all night.
It is better to hash this out.
Kick at the puddles.
Scatter this muddy water
Across the sidewalk.
The wet season has been long
For us. A monotonous drizzle.
White noise and floods
On a Saturday morning.
Sitting on your cooler
You pull me in closer,
You say that you like me
And the rest is history.
Your smell, your breath
Your views on death
Your voice, your hands
Your working man’s tan.
I count my blessings
When they aren’t around.
I’m lost and I’m messy.
With you I’m found.
I thought I was waiting
On the right time to say this.
But I was right all along
And waiting was wrong.
The anger is changing
How I read your reactions.
Emotional violence
Ignites the dark silence.
The full moon is hanging
Somber in the smog.
We flash down the 10 West
“Would you just give it a rest?”
My fears do the blaming.
My ego is a paper maché planet.
We guard against the unreal,
We drown in what we feel.
Darling, we are waning.
Shadows crawled in our heart.
But the sun will still burn
And the earth will still turn.
And the full moon will return.
I run down Nebraska every day
Cross Purdue and Colby and Federal
Stop for a breather at Barrington
And pick my way across the lumpy
Root-risen ground by the skate park.
And I wonder, if I ran this route
One million times
Would the sidewalk even know?
Surely, yes.
Each time my foot strikes the cement
It leaves an impression
A thousandth of a millimeter-
A quick kiss in the concrete.
So if I ran this every day
For the next 1,000 years
You would know,
Right?
Hm. Maybe not.
It could be the other way around.
The sidewalk leaves
A thousandth of a millimeter
Impression
On the sole of my shoe
With every lung-burning, stomach-churning
Stride that I take.
Until one day,
I need new shoes.
When you call someone And they don't pick up, Aren't there just two reactions? Relief or frustration. Some people I am just calling Because I think that is what I'm supposed to do. And if they don't pick up, it's like a win Because they can at least see that I tried - I tried to connect with you, but you didn't pick up. So it's not my fault. And I don't have to have a phone conversation, Which can be exhausting and alienating. So I'm relieved. But some people I call Because I've been thinking about them for days. I've been thinking about what they would say In this moment. I've been thinking about what they wouldn't say, too. I'm calling you because I've been trying to be your voice But I am not your voice. I've been trying to not need you. So I call you. And on the third or fourth ring, I imagine you Glancing down at your phone And hitting the button that makes your phone stop ringing Without making it seem like you ignored my call. Hi you've reached Danny, I can't take your call right now— I thought we were going to talk. I think about the conversation we would have had. I think about all the people I haven't picked up for.
When I try to put my mind around you
It’s like dropping a sugar cube
Into water.
I just want to taste your point of view.
I want your sweetness to stain my perspective.
But it’s totally not fair
To use you like that.
Because what do you get out of it?
Dissolved?
Still, cube after cube
In they go.
Until it’s not sugar dissolved in water.
It’s sugar absorbing water.
It’s not even water. It’s just you.
You are my Wednesday.
You are the metal clang,
And the slams that echo in the alley
At six in the fucking morning.
You are the sour, dour odor
That sighs over the neighborhood.
You are all the things I don’t need
All the carrot stems and fish skins,
And salted tissues.
You are on your way out
But you will be back in a week
To take more things from me
That I decided I don’t need.
It's not what you say, It's what you don't. What are we doing here? Was that another year? I'm sorry I can't decide. I'm sorry I need your time. I'm just afraid of making that leap. I'm just, afraid. I know that you would be relieved If I told you that I believed In people's ability to change And gracefully rearrange All of the habits we have grown In false secrets we don't own. But I don't think I believe. I cannot give you that reprieve. Not yet - at least... My dear, My soul feels full, this year. And I am trying to see it To feel it and to breathe it. To want what I've got And not pine after what's not Mine or not going to be Mine for eternity. Okay, I think that's enough My now, my comfort, my love.
Neurotica 