much too late for closure

throwing away what you meant to keep. getting what you thought you wanted. remembering only warmth and skin. feeling nothing like it.

some don't even have to think about it, some call that true love.

she welcomes each coming year like taking a stranger to bed. trusting each will be good to her, won't leave her worse off, beaten, or lifeless.

luciferian dilemmas and the ease of coping with the coke inspired orgy we had last night.

cheap champagne and hiding fom sunlight. sleeping in the same bed, but not touching. remembering who we were and seeing now that we haven't come so far. using tongue only to remember what it feels like. collectively letting daylight slip into bad documentaries, without saying anything. when they broke up, she moved all his photos from the shelf over her bed to across the room. he walked her home the next morning, filled with these ideas that make his actions right. justifications for marrying a teacher, for having kids, and not having to deal with them.

whoever you are, i love you.

she only gave me a look. it was the most i'd know of love. there was heartbrake in her eye and i knew i didn't need anything more. i overflowed with my very own alienation from love. it was something to hold dear, like a secret they'll never pry into, they'll never even consider. my memories of love take me someplace that never existed.

lonely mistakes

she was alone at a bar and needed a ride home, that's the only reason she called at 2:30am. that and maybe she's a little lonely. either way it would be a mistake.

i was only her prom date, that's all i'll ever be. two bottles of wine later, she's touching a russian girl's boob between drunken interludes on the dance floor. she complains about men while we drive off, a little damaged, but forgiving. that and maybe she's a little lonely. either way it would be a mistake.

she's just trying to figure out her life like the rest of us. it makes us feel we have more control over our own lives when we help guide others. that's the only reason she's being nice. that and maybe she's a little lonely. either way it would be a mistake.

she talks about work through a computer when she gets home. she types about how she's trying to make friends. she talks about what seems to be working, but mostly what doesn't. she goes to church to keep her spirit up. that and maybe she's a little lonely. either way it would be a mistake.

you start doing things when you are one person and they become a habit until one day you find yourself a different person doing the habits of someone you no longer understand. habits and mistakes can disappear with enough time.

in the end there's only what we think

she convinced herself that love is what you feel when you desperately don't want to be alone.

things we learn before love

brushing teeth
driving
sex
drawing a straight line
fishing
tetris
the birthday song
not to eat rocks
the difference between good and bad sleep
long division
to tie shoelaces
tv is a good excuse to do nothing
hat hair doesn't matter if you keep the hat on
feed the dog
to make friends
itching makes it worse
to lose friends
money is a necessity
to use the toilet
to say 'thank you'
...for the most part.

the great thing about wanting to be bukowski

trying is already having succeeded.

practicing agnostic

i don't believe in god the way you do, but i don't think we're it. there was a lot of assuming going around. it was pretty obvious.

she never called to say she doesn't want to talk to me anymore.

he smiled a dirty smile as he held the bottle of whiskey, looking straight at us. we didn't know him, he didn't know us. but he smiled as he walked by showing off the bottle of whiskey as if to say, "this is where my night's taking me." thinking the same thing, they sit alone. each of them looking for a future to project their past onto.

so, today it was snowing.

i wish i was better. worrying about things only makes it worse, right? a paranoid life is not a life worth living. fish probably don't often want to be caught, but whatcha gonna do? hook in the mouth. poked and prodded. flopping around in a strange place. there are a lot of people out there who aren't socially adapted. society has failed them. they have failed. they life reclusive lives, possibly shared with an equally reclusive person, where they focus on specific menial goals in order to be fulfilled. it really doesn't sound too different from the socially adapted. it only comes down to dealing with other people, whether it be by choice or otherwise.

she spelled her name wrong, either that or i don't know anything.

waking up tired seems like it shouldn't happen. so pretentious, not like self-righteous pretentious, because aren't we all. not like claiming value where there is none, because who decides where there is value? but to try so hard to the point that things seem to take so little an effort. disappointed despite effort.

rainbows of cocaine white, she bites her lip.

relationships based entirely on self-concept. are you willing to let him think he's someone he's not? is his happiness worth that to you? are you willing to play along? for how long? if you let him think he's exactly who he wants to be, will he eventually become it? are you the only thing keeping him from it?

we use others to construct an idea of who we are. the people around us are constantly changing, we are constantly changing. depending on others for any amount of meaning is futile.

letting the cat lick it off.

realizing if you look hard enough, you'll find people who don't think you're crazy. even if you are. more time spent thinking than doing. trying to only see the world i want. looking at the same things. falling captive to an endless dream. not giving up on the life you want, even after it's over. a bitter afterlife.

dead dog, curiously approachable. a lonely heart diluted with experience, sits in the chest like a fist. he forces them apart, though they want to be together, his eyebrows. life catches them by surprise, like a cake, with a person inside; now there's nothing to eat. if cannibals find themselves lonely, isn't it their own fault? you could probably say the same for anyone.

the life we live is nothing more than something we do.

just when i gave up completely, something turned it all around. it was only hope.

she looked at me like i was crazy.

i should have known then. she would never love me like i wanted. so i asked this girl out. sort of. i was drunk and asked for her number, she gave it hesitantly. a few days later i call. i get the machine.. "..so there's this place i heard of, on south water st. they do thursday night swing dancing, it could be fun. if you're interested give me a call, ###-####. thanks." i don't know why i said 'thanks'. i think a combination of nervousness and the habit of ending machine recordings with "..give me a call back, thanks!" so now i just thank people for listening to my awkward recordings by default. she didn't call. thank god.

chameleon

sometimes we find we've been so many different people that we forget the reasons behind the things we do.

fall cloud, fall

all this planning, all that trouble, trying and hoping and risking it all. only to find that she doesn't even care. just another person she'd rather forget with the past. of all the things i've had to do in my life, of all the thing i've had no control, this one i wish i wasn't blamed for. i don't think this thing i did was wrong, but she'll have me think otherwise. despite the fact that i came back, every reply she makes could just as easily be followed with,
"YOU ASSHOLE, YOU FUCKING LEFT!"

it's true.

can i tell you a secret?

it all blurred into one meaningless orgasm. i was ready to give up because of the lack of meaning. everything since i left has been a sort of afterlife. afterlives probably have less meaning than actual lives, only you can't take them away. i've been going crazy. i think it has to do with sex. binge and purge. never in moderation. we can't go back to who we were exactly, we just take something from it with us. we like to think there are certain things we can't lose. i lost it. fuck up. i've been watching walls fall in. just sitting and watching, not doing anything about it. i was unhappy, but everything was better.