The Lovely Idea of Too Much Time

She sorts laundry beneath the nauseous fan

Draped in an unevenly cut dress of flowers

In her lovers black racing socks

“Do you remember when we first moved in and we thought it was cold here all the time?”

She asks me without a clue that I document her every footstep,

“And we were like, I don’t wanna pay for this SHIT!”

I tell her I remember with a smile

and keep my head focused

I still haven’t changed out of my towel

This water-slide of hair traces my back

And I feel the drops cascading.

“Um no.”

She says to the radio

“But what if I want to Party in the U.S.A?”

She just shakes her head.

But seriously, I kind of like that song.

It’s contagious.

Like the stomach flu

And empathy

Like smiling

And second hand smoke

Like singing

And various forms of rebirth.

Conversations with Sam

“But don’t you ever wonder why we’re here?”

“To smell the flowers and feel the sunshine.”

“But who says it is?”

“Who says it’s not? So why does it matter if you are?”

“But, what’s the reason?”

“I just gave you the reason and you didn’t like it.”

“Well I guess so.”

“The problem is feeling we NEED to do all of these things in life, as if to fulfill some kind of purpose to tell us why we’re here. The reality is to do the things you WANT to do in life while you’re here because they’re what you want to do while you’re here.”

“I like that, actually a lot better. My thought process is rather quite more dreadful.”

“Yeah I mean, and pretty anxiety provoking.”

Something went wrong, please reload.

I hold the arrow circle but nothing happens.

I can’t bare to write “I” anymore.

Is it because I feel like I’m doing all the talking?

Is it because I don’t let anyone else do the talking?

Is it because I’ve blocked everyone else out so that I’m alone with myself all of the time?

I’ve lost all empathy for everyone but myself, and even myself.

I’m bored with life.

Fantasies of escapism fill the walls up to the ceiling-

Unrealistic Supermen-

Places unknown-

Anything but this, anything but here.

He is hurt and I don’t care.

His head’s in a book; he’s really not there.

I’m way more proud, more excited, more dedicated than he is…

How’d that happen? How do I get out?

It’s too late to just get out and I know it…

So I just go on feeling easily hurt and unloved-

Picking out reasons it won’t work.

All I have to talk about is myself and I’m sick of it.

Sick of me. Sick of all of it. How do I get away from myself?

Is there really only one way out?

Dare I ever take it?

Okay fine;

You Win.

Game Over.

There’s been an error, please reload.

 

Aside

It took nearly forty years to age his face this way, but if he weren’t insane no one would care to notice him or more than the 5 minutes they had to stand my him in order to catch the 57. He gives a speech:

“Five thousand six hundred and ninety nine text messages, sent daily…no one reads them.”

It’s strange how oddities make lasting impressions. My favorite person I have met has been a freeway side sign holder with a sixty year old girlfriend who made a killer orange chicken.

“They want to expand Los Angeles, 50 more miles of what?”

I wonder what it might be like if we all die and find out we were being used for someone else’s entertainment. I wonder if zoo animals know they’re not supposed to be caged. I wonder what they’d say if we could understand…
Probably something like, “fuck off.”

“Twelve cans of not Hunts tomato sauce, but tomato paste, which is much worse.”

He wasn’t joking about the cans.

“Wait…why is it much worse?”

I wonder if the bees know they’re slaving away all day to make honey for us, or if they truly believe it’s for the benefit of the collective, to ensure their survival.

“There are so many more tomatoes.”
“Good point.”

I wonder if anyone’s found a way out of this place. A door in the wardrobe. I wonder if they’d even bother tell anyone. I wouldn’t. I’d leave them all behind to fall like the dominos they’ve been shaped into.

“You are a pretty young girl”

I wonder if there will be discovered, a planet for dreams, or if the whole world will be found to be projected from an failing brain stem.

“If you think about it,

I’m a rotting corpse.”

Do you ever try to puzzle an insane man? I don’t think it’s possible on account of, I believe they are secret super geniuses.

“Would you happen to know where I can find a Walgreens?”

I can smile,
but I haven’t a damn clue.

Tomato paste

It took nearly forty years to age his face this way, but if he weren’t insane no one would care to notice him or more than the 5 minutes they had to stand my him in order to catch the 57. He gives a speech:

“Five thousand six hundred and ninety nine text messages, sent daily…no one reads them.”

It’s strange how oddities make lasting impressions. My favorite person I have met has been a freeway side sign holder with a sixty year old girlfriend who made a killer orange chicken.

“They want to expand Los Angeles, 50 more miles of what?”

I wonder what it might be like if we all die and find out we were being used for someone else’s entertainment. I wonder if zoo animals know they’re not supposed to be caged. I wonder what they’d say if we could understand…
Probably something like, “fuck off.”

“Twelve cans of not Hunts tomato sauce, but tomato paste, which is much worse.”

He wasn’t joking about the cans.

“Wait…why is it much worse?”

I wonder if the bees know they’re slaving away all day to make honey for us, or if they truly believe it’s for the benefit of the collective, to ensure their survival.

“There are so many more tomatoes.”
“Good point.”

I wonder if anyone’s found a way out of this place. A door in the wardrobe. I wonder if they’d even bother tell anyone. I wouldn’t. I’d leave them all behind to fall like the dominos they’ve been shaped into.

“You are a pretty young girl”

I wonder if there will be discovered, a planet for dreams, or if the whole world will be found to be projected from an failing brain stem.

“If you think about it,

I’m a rotting corpse.”

Do you ever try to puzzle an insane man? I don’t think it’s possible on account of, I believe they are secret super geniuses.

“Would you happen to know where I can find a Walgreens?”

I can smile,
but I haven’t a damn clue.

Aside

Tags

“So Unsexy”

Oh these little rejections how they add up quickly
One small sideways look and I feel so ungood
Somewhere along the way I think I gave you the power to make
Me feel the way I thought only my father could

Oh these little rejections how they seem so real to me
One forgotten birthday I’m all but cooked 
How these little abandonments seem to sting so easily
I’m 13 again am I 13 for good?

I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful
So unloved for someone so fine
I can feel so boring for someone so interesting
So ignorant for someone of sound mind

Oh these little protections how they fail to serve me
One forgotten phone call and I’m deflated
Oh these little defenses how they fail to comfort me
Your hand pulling away and I’m devastated

When will you stop leaving?
When will I stop deserting?
When will I start staying with myself?

Oh these little projections how they keep springing from me
I jump my ship as I take it personally 
Oh these little rejections how they disappear quickly
The moment I decide not to abandon me

 

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