ISOLA

grass grows from the alarm clock. it's astounding, the sounds of five sets of eyes that could never understand why a ship is referred to as a 'she' just as well as i cannot put my finger quite on the outcome of the next year. i keep searching for you only to find that you are hiding underneath my skirts again, then falling into an inescapable bathtub of public enemies. shame on throwing your wallet into the fireplace but...forgiven, i suppose, if it is that that keeps you bleeding. and with the most enticing voice i've ever seen, you misplace your vowels and drag out your consonants at a rate which isn't decipherable. is it possible all the cheap vodka has gone to your head? is it possible that the portuguese pavement stifled your willingness to brave the storm without an umbrella? left filling the evenings with old music and miscalculated kissing makes me restless. whelmed. hammer to heart and enclosed in a glass case, the wait. everything intrigued us and thrilled us, alas together remain unmutually unenamoured. as i remove you from the pedestal, tangled nerves dangling from the moon sharpen our vision and carve an exit. the alarm clock needs trimming.

THE SPACES AMID LOVE

you have ghosts?
of course i have ghosts.
what are your ghosts like?
they are on the insides of the lids of my eyes.
this is also where my ghosts reside.
you have ghosts?
of course i have ghosts.
but you are a child.
i am not a child.
but you have not known love.
these are my ghosts, the spaces amid love.

EPENTHESIS

Please don’t make me feel anything right now; I don’t have the time for that bullshit. I just heard someone scream outside the window. I hope you didn’t make them feel something. I hope they are just screaming for feeling alive. I would like to do the same but I’m conscientious of my neighbors (ellipses) Does this fact make me more alive, or less alive? Are we all being too conscientious and not screaming enough?

I have noticed -thanks to a long sit in a warm bath -to keep feeling the warmth it’s necessary to stir around a bit. Feet out, then under. Water is warm again. Water is wet again. I think that water is the softest discovery. Sit in it for a moment and it becomes you. Am I even sitting in water anymore? Because I feel nothing? And does it feel warm or cold now? And how long have I been in the bath now? I have to keep moving to feel anything at all.  Generally speaking, I think that I knew this, but the bathtub has since confirmed it.

I cut a chunk out of my hair this week. Was touching it just now; it’s all irregular and obnoxious. I told myself it’ll grow back. It’s just hair.

I know someone who died this week. People are dying constantly I suppose, but usually it ends up being someone I’ve never known. I don’t know how to react to death. I guess the only thing is to learn to grow despite the loss, to grow because of the loss. I’ve really no idea though. I’m very scared of death. Of people I love dying. Of feeling too much, or feeling too little, or feeling nothing at all, when I do eventually lose someone. Of not spending the right amount of time with them, or not telling them how I love them enough. Most of all, I wish that death didn’t happen, well at least not totally, and I could just pour out my loved one's presence into my morning coffee day in, day out. Still greet you in the morning, have you after dinner.

I’m hooping again. It feels good to move like that again. I paid the rent and the electric bill this week. Passed four finals. Sat in cold coffee shops and scribbled away about human anatomy.  Remembered, once, to make my bed. Avoiding most things because I get too distracted by distraction’s distractions.

Another harrowing goodbye will come this week. This seems to be the recurring event the past couple of years. Change is good right? I still think of the profuse tears I’ve shed on buses each time I’ve left someone. It’s really underrated how painful goodbyes are. It’s always worth it; to have such good times, despite the difficult separations. Maybe it makes true connections a bit stronger, even. (what does it remember like?) 

I need to start packing for Chicago. I need to eat something for dinner besides an apple. To do over Christmas break: Jacob’s coffee. Books. Countdown: 2 days.

11. sleeping pills and damien rice

LIFE EXISTS IN FIVE CIRCLES

life exists in five circles and you are telling me thesethingsthatdon'thappen and then you are telling me thesethings that i pROBABLY alreadydetermined and imtryingtobe modestandok, trying to be ok, but i think it comes off--flakes shakes takes breaks away from me what idontwanttoknowthatialreadyknow

that none of these noneofyou--none are how i imagine thatorthis orthoseorthatorwho and im notsure, buti used a comma, wow, can i concentrate on that, or how im listening to wordless music, how ihatethaticanremember these things; cold accompanied by NO NOTION of time (which is exactly how i like it) and thinking: i think this ends by walking out the door

ok well i cant care becasue there is this cold, actually freezing wind harsh against my arms, against my forehead, i check if my window got opened, well no, hereanothercomma, it's closed. but okay, these blinds, they are not keeping me warm. this skin, these muscles, bones, costumes, songs, loves, they are not keeping me warm.
this touch
neither.

violent delights have violent ends