anniversary II

things i have learned recently:
loneliness, contrary to appearances,
does not solve problems. things are not
always as serious as i fear.
reconciliation is not so hard.
my self-made problems are
just as easily unmade.
so i proclaim today the first anniversary
of September 29th, a Good Day
and nothing's gonna stop me so don't even try.
(although if you want to join me,
i welcome it.)

In the other part of the dream, I was taking Japanese and Chinese at the same time, so that sucked too

Last night I had a dream that some guy fucked one of my friends over, so my friend told me to cave his head in with a baseball bat. I was fine with it, but I did it digitally or remotely or something. So yeah, what the fuck does that mean?

earthgod

all i get these days is blood,
blood in a bird's beak, blood
trailing from a coat-tail
on the ground, blood
mirroring on the floor
and flowering in the whites
of my eyes, blood pouring
down from burst pipes, bursting
upward as it fills my mouth and
i spit it into the air, blood
racing outwards at a whim,
gathering at pores and then
lurching forward as if drawn
by a magnet, blood reflected
in the reverential shine of a
freckled face. all i get these days
when i try to clear my head is
birds and bursting vessels and
blood, and blood, and blood.

the Devil in Ambergris

Sweat shines on his face as
he promises himself he won't lose it.
I watch his raised-eyebrow cynicism,
his optimistic mistrust. His hair shorn.
"Well, when you spend a few months in Afghanistan."
Is this what I'm missing out on?
He's been trained enough so he depends on
his body but when the lights go out, his body is gone.
Never lost. What bullshit. It's unavoidable,
and so apparent here, the bellum omnium contra omnes that
everyone sees but never expects.
I watch his optimism start to slip.
He's seen this before, but didn't recognize it
until the mirrors took their first victim.
This place is supposed to be safe.
Bellum omnium contra omnes.
Sweat shines on his face as
he's losing it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bL_NcoCJgzo

everything is black and white.
it's getting late and there's not enough light.
in the back stands a girl with a violin.
sometimes i feel the sand in my skin.
"the ugliest scene, the worst mistakes."
everything is in shades of gray.
i watch the girl and her curly hair.
"i tear, oh god, and i tear, i tear."
i swear i smelled petals on my way up the hill.
their fleshy whiteness. is it summer, still?
when i sing all i get is an echoing call.
i'm hollowed and sluiced. it's time for fall.
i need howling to cover my dead-throat rasp.
i need something that i can finally grasp.
that won't dissolve into a colorless blur.
"there's no innocence like hers, just emptiness and nerves."
"such a beautiful child. such an awful waste."
i'm washed and done. she's wasting away.

12 a.m., playing "just dance" for wii in the rainbow room

my left leg is heavy and awkward, wrapped as it is
in plastic, velcro, and fleece. this song isn't so hard.
frantic, though. i watch james's clumsy energy and i
cheer him on. harold is a little further from the tv.
i watch his big shoulders and his hips moving in circles.
regret comes in little black grains but i filter those out
and discard them like spent coffee grounds. easy as that.
in a couple weeks my foot will be healed and i'll be able
to make a fool of myself too. harold won't be around to
kick our asses anymore by then. it's okay. even sitting here
i feel this summer haze of happiness filling up my spirit
like a hot air balloon. blue and yellow and white.