2nd Movement of the Odyssey

So she pulled open the curtains, thrusting morning in his face
He closed his eyes harder, clearly at odds with the world
over what time it was.
“See? You’re wrong,” she said, contemplating this new day.
With a voice like gravel, he grumbled out his reply,
“Why? What do you see?”
There was silence as she considered this.
He could tell she was really thinking about her answer,
a weighing of options he thought too heady for this hour.
“Infinity,” she finally said. There was almost giddiness in her voice.
“Through all windows, I see only infinity.”
He merely grunted, and pulled the blankets over his face
But only so she wouldn’t see him smile.

The Answer

It’s a fool’s errand,
these silly love songs.
they’re only gonna leave you.
i want to tell you it’s all gonna break
that regrets, they weren’t there
But they stood, statues; invincible.
Angels stacked crooked, the ruins of my life.

in desolate times, don’t panic
Just keep the car running
Head for Munich
It was nice to know you.

But it’s Raining

Don’t let go of that kite
Stop the glycerin
Someday the waves will set it off
The end of this chapter, i mean.
Wake up
there’s a knock-down drag-out
on Spancil Hill
between Michelle and the recluse
But this wrath
this flame of youth
this bleeding heart show
this too shall pass.

Get it?

I think it’d be hilarious
to fake your own death
and then make a miraculous return.
And once everyone is so relieved
to know you aren’t really dead,
that’s when you kill yourself.

(Ir)response

It’s like
i was thrown into a pool
without knowing how to swim
and my only instruction was
“Stop drowning.”

How to Make a Mix CD (Slightly Revised!)

There’s no more sincere expression of emotion or a better way to capture the feeling of a special time than a well-made mix tape (or mix CD [or iPod playlist; whatever your preferred medium is nowadays]). Face it: most of us are not poets or musicians, and though we may have all these complex, profound thoughts and emotions we wish to convey, most of us simply don’t possess the cognitive dexterity to express them on our own. But, a well-made mix can capture the essence of a favorite season, make a workout routine more enjoyable, tell that special someone just how they get your blood pumping (or boiling, as the case may be), or provide the soundtrack to a long road trip. A mix is a project that takes thought, time, consideration and passion, just like any other work of art.

Day Seven

Today I built an ant farm.
I poured dirt inside,
dropped the ants on the dirt;
I even decorated it to
make it look nice for them.

I can shake my ant farm,
Place it on a sunny windowsill,
Shut it in darkness in a closet,
Flood it, or set it on fire.

My ants build ant cities,
establish ant societies,
topple ant governments,
and fight little ant wars.
Sometimes it looks so bad I start to wonder
what I was thinking in the first place.

The funniest thing
is that I can’t shake this odd feeling,
like my ants are trying to communicate with me.
It’s preposterous, i know;
don’t they realize I can’t hear them?

Eight-Thirty am.

I’m so very tired of sunny, warm days.
I long, how I long for gray skies
and the playful chill of autumn afternoons.
I’ve grown so weary of tee shirts and sunglasses;
I’m dying for coats, scarves, hot cocoa,
and rosy-cheeked women.
O, the rosy-cheeked women.
Show me a young lady decked out
in a fashionable scarf and a knitted hat
and I will show you simple perfection.

Retire your azure skies and sweeping emerald vistas;
Bring to me the blinding brilliance of pristine snow-covered hills,
ripe with all the possibility of a blank canvas or a fresh sheet of paper.
Let me gaze at their comforting complement: the skies of subtle silver; the true heavens.
Set my face upward, let a hundred frozen miracles kiss my cheeks and nose.
Let me see my breath.
Someone, please… let it get cold soon.

Today I broke down. Sobbingly, pathetically, i broke down. Wept.

The crippling weight of my own failures snapped my carefully placed defenses like a stick.

I can’t handle any of this. I’m not prepared for life. Hopeless does not cover it.

I’ve no idea what I want. I don’t want anything. I want both my parents to be alive.

I want both my parents dead.

I don’t want to hold anyone down. I don’t want to be alone.

I don’t want to be happy. I don’t want to be miserable. I want to know what I need to do.

I don’t want to be afraid of responsibility. I want to stop crying.

Oh god… I have no idea what to do.

Somebody help me.

Forward Thinking.

i don’t know how i want to die
But I’m certain that i do.
i’ve not given thought
to details or circumstances,
or specific stipulations.
All i really want is for the phrase
“before he even hit the floor”
to be the phrase on everyone’s lips.