don't go near the water

a man’s total is $7.03. he is first annoyed, then agitated, then infuriated. he digs through his pockets desperately to find just three measly pennies but comes up short. finally, he brings forth another dollar. “I can’t believe i don’t have three stinkin’ pennies,” he trumpets. the cashier rings up the total as $8 and produces his change, 97¢. upon reaching his hand, the man, in his fury, pours that change, 97¢, back onto the counter and storms out.  

This was written in conjunction with my autotype recommendations on my phone. Technically I did not create these words, I chose them.

I’m an old man and I am not sure if I can make it to the meeting tonight but I will be there in the morning to see if you have any questions please feel free to contact me at any time

and I will be there in the morning to see if you have any questions please feel free to contact me at any time if you need me

to believe I am going to have you come home I have some things to do in the morning and I will be there in the morning to see if you have any questions please feel free to contact me at any time if you are still looking

at least I have to be there in person but I’m sure we will have to do the whole community service hours for the week and we can go from there to the gym and then I will send you the link to the video of the guy who was the guy who was the other person but I’ll let you know if I can do it tomorrow

but I’ll just go with it and I don’t know what I did you can be a bit of a rough time and where do you live and what is the cost of the phone with my mom and sister are going out of town this week.

Thanks so much for all your help and support you have to do with anything that is the best life I want a full house in about an hour or so and then I will send you the link to the video of the guy who was the guy at a friend’s house and I don’t have to work at least a bit and I’ll see if I can make a lot into it for a couple days

so I’m just trying this is my new ppl now I’m going through some stuff for you
have to be there in person but its a little more time for a quick call when I get back home I will send you the link to the video of the guy who was the guy at all the time and it will not work to be completed and submitted the application process is going to be so much fun to see what I can get back in town tomorrow.

I’ve kept of every single friend
a neatly organized list
of every person’s conversation
that I’ve somehow missed.
every single little thing
they think’s too small to mention
that hurt their feelings,
but they know
it wasn’t my intention.

but just instead of bringing up
this unimportant blemish
it rots inside their skull, and I
will smell its residual relish.

The funny thing’s
the list grows bigger
if I forget to look
so I have to lie
a closer eye
lest it turn into a book.

But sometimes a little thing
can rattle a few folk’s cages
and before you know it
A line can turn to pages.

I keep this note in case one day
they leave me in the dust
and I have something left to soak
and wash away that rust
accumulated as I’ve grown
into a discarded kid
who plays alone
with folded list
of all the things he did.

I’m not depressed anymore
my mind is sharper
i walk with swagger
i am eye catching

I’m not depressed anymore
i only skip one meal at a time
smile when i eat what I’m not supposed to
leave the house
text you back
i agree with you because it’s what i think
stop thinking of it as an obligation
and start considering my hobbies

I’m not depressed anymore i want
i want to kiss
i want to hold
i want
unf

I’m not depressed anymore
i wait for traffic
and knives are tools
and i feel _______

I don’t think I’m depressed anymore
but I don’t have a savings account
and its because the future isn’t real
I don’t believe I’m going to ever see it

you can call it God but for me its the stones of the mountain, and the breeze that shouts a whisper.

the bushes that shake just like me. and I believe in the vastness of the sea, cruel and powerful and essential to life.

the sea is a kind of God, and that God is escapable.

you return to the sea and she greets you with a

hiss

hiss

hiss.

she cleans you knowing you will dirty yourself once more.

what we take from her she will replenish, just as much a god as the mountainside and the trees and the wind and the ground.

all these things will carry me home, all these things are my church.

sugar is sweet but I don’t care for it the way you do.

sometimes its been weeks and my whole body aches & when you give me a brick and i can bite into it- its heaven.

but some days you’re eating cookies and chocolates and all you want to do is sit in peace.

yet your body moistens and readies itself.

“lets go again,” it tells me.

i tell it enough.

it rolls me over and I’m in it again.

i bite down and I forget a time i hated chocolate.

i see them fresh faced and eight years old
with fresh haircuts
and I wonder if and when
in the same inevitable energy as war-
when will the bullets take you?
will the bomb take all of you, or just a part?
sitting with an arm and a leg
past contortion but I ponder
and I see that you’ve learned to love wine.
it reminds me of my first week of hard labor
my smooth hands grew callosed.
my smile was brightest when i sat where you sit
in a room of mostly bald bodies
with a window or two and liquor abound
i was there or i was at the window
watching them drink at a tavern in a war zone.

and yet continually
i wonder if and when
someone will overturn the bed i once laid in
see the shadows that peer
but my home fills with these shadows I’ve always been warned of…
each shadow has a face?
each face a smile?
each smile a name?
all names a story?
when will we know the balance between
the story and the cynicism?

catscantobacco:

I.

A false blanket of apathy is

a wonderful way to keep warm

against the cold sting of passion

II.

Sometimes it’s best

to push the envelope farther

so all around they hear the

“clang” of  letters hitting the back of a mailbox

catscantobacco:

Something identical to love

will fill you like a balloon,

wither you like sickness.

The wise old hermit

living in a condo above my cerebellum

saw this back in his childhood

he will vigorously throw bottles

out his window in attempt to find

one that still holds liquor.

but there’s a fire burning

in the left side of my brain

a trash can that clicks

as I delete what’s hurt from the past.

but withholding how I love

they way she breaks her strong upheld gaze

as a righteous soldier

to fall upon my upward facing eyes.

I wish to never have a silent conversation again

Yet how the silence fills my ears with music

catscantobacco:

I’ve been in this

part of the woods before

and I didn’t like it

catscantobacco:

A training wheel

on a bike that has

long known

how to ride

catscantobacco:

idea: 
(just an idea, not chastising or infantilizing but simply an alternative route for those interested in driving in mountainous terrain)
keep a friend of a racist
homophobe
supporter of you-know who.
not many and don’t collect
because we’re talking of
Tigers here
and they will ravage your crop
when you turn your back.
But for the sake of posterity
keep the whites, the men
the rich
the misguided
Just one.
Flip their manifest destiny
and teach them what it means
when an oil pipeline is built
on foreign land
and we send the infantry
to quell the natural response
of a human population.
Show them what humanity
means in the “ghettos”- or their own backyard-
that these people reduced
to a curse are so vast
that no promise to disallow
a people into our military,
or our country,
will EVER sit well
in our country’s stomach.
Speak softly enough for them
to be unable to throw a temper tantrum
but loud enough that they cannot
speak over you.

So if you are white,
A man,
or rich
or love someone misguided,
follow them from afar.
Keep the safe space clear
for the days you have no energy.
Push hard on the institution
and don’t let an individual with hurt
in a bowl 
like condoms at a Health Center
get away with their hate.
Someone taught them that hate
and others can teach them to love.

catscantobacco:

now how close the paradox is
to dip in the lake
so close to the waters you’ll never touch again.
we walk like an angel
as if on ice always touching but always missing.
flying: landing and missing
but i never flew as much as i stayed
the base of ground level
drunk and quiet and living
squelched as the beautiful paradise
faded from sight
turning towards the better connection
away from my wings
as i flew farther
an elevator
towards ground level