|
| i wake up and turn off the alarm
i wince, i lay back down, sometimes
i cry
a little bit. He is always there
laying beside me, 6 out of 7 times ----- no
seven out of lucky seven most weeks.
the heat is full of car exhaust and my little legs driving me around the concrete walkways.
sometimes i cut through the dirt paths other people have already tracked in the grass.
(we are accidents waiting to happen)
we are happening always.
In October i become exceptionally dark
i care less, i try less, everyone can kiss my black
ass - i only wear black now.
i curl my hair at night before i wash it out and start over in the morning.
i wear lip liner all over my mouth (it's a small mouth, i keep quiet).
(just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there)
i don't know what's here, but i don't care
what art is
anymore. Beauty is not important, self expression is important in this
furloughed city. i don't care if i seem
artistic, i care that
(the days are much too bright) (and)
i'm paying equal prices for mindlessness and happiness
two things so different from each other that they are often confused.
composition. division. equivocation.
my professor spills his coffee on the floor. all of the above. trick question.
(you'll pretend to know me well, my friend)
no one has a clue about me
i keep to myself, my shell is
sometimes
outgoing, or else just a poker face. so tired am i of being friends
with people who do not see me. they see my hands and my mouth moving
they don't see my eyes.
i hide.
my eyes.
stay calm.
head up. walk to class. walk to starbucks. walk to room.
bullshit your roommates. try to care.
try not to
cry
a little
like you do some mornings.
i walk everywhere rather than ride a bicycle. i stay out of their way.
(i walk alone to find the way home.)
 | | |
| I.
people ask if i have ever felt alone in a crowded room.
in 4D
the room is everywhere, the people are everywhere.
i am dressed in royal purple and black
and trying to stay in one place, here, with all of the people
in the big, big room.
i walk around and look at them one by one and wait for someone to look back.
everyone turns away, after briefly seeing me seeing them.
i am a leper or a goddess, but either way i am invisible.
II.
who i am and who
i want to be are wrapped in
to nothingness here.
III.
i came here because i cared.
i remember the night i sat in his house with the kitchen lights on,
him in the armchair, me on him, like a child.
we were both virgins then.
it was late. i wanted to stay, so i cried.
and i cried more, and looked him in the eyes through tangled, wet hair.
i want to say it was raining, but the night was
clear as a glass mirror, the stars shining through
glaring at me.
i stayed. and i came here. to the land of possibility.
but not before i wrecked him, and me.
not before i took a virgin and made him a victim,
despite what he deserved.
now, i sleep with a scarred artist every night
and i am happy
and i am in love
and i am what i want to be ----- for the most part.
and the virgin is what he wants to be.
but i hate it here. the color-wheel green of the grass,
scattered trees, white walls, young girls.
i came here because i cared
about virginity
and i want to leave because now i care
about making money.
| | |
| We sit outside with the old dog and the New Yorkers.
i look at the man with the silver earrings and the goofy grin.
i look at the young woman with her shirt inside out and the warm face.
i look at you and your face lights up,
it lights me up and it lights up the Hollywood sign
hidden away in the dark hills.
I am always sleep deprived and in a second universe with you,
driving through my tunnel on the 101.
You light it up, more so than do the lights of the city.
the fire is in Pasadena
the children are doing their homework
the twenty somethings are heading to the clubs.
We are driving, always in the darkness,
knowing our final destination,
not predicting traffic.
| | |
| i walk into a room
where you are paying no attention.
(i am paying attention,
i can't tell you.)
i know you are in this room because i see you
and i feel you not wanting to see me,
but you do.
(i will not let myself feel you, you are not here,
you are not you, you are them.)
i AM them, you came from them and are you
because you were them but i can tell you none of this
because i am [one of] them.
(you aren't one of them, you're different,
you're special, you understand, you're beautiful)
[you] [are]n't one of them, your different, your
special
your
[beautiful]
| | |
|
|
