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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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@poemsnotpromises
Daydreaming
When you are
gone we will
paint the walls
black to hide
the grease stains
and our collective
sins, never speaking
of you again but
always remembering
this with a nod
and a sigh.
We will call this
our responsible era
which was preceded
by our silent era
which was preceded
by our apologetic era
which was preceded
by our sleepy era
and before that
was anyone's guess
and anyone's girls.
A brief q and a.
If you always thought
you'd die long before
a single line
touched your face
what are you
supposed to do
when time catches up
and the gray
transforms your temple
somehow older,
unrecognizable
until there's someone
else's face staring back
in your hand mirror?
---
It is true,
I used to have potential,
but I waited around
over 10 years
just to forget
how to talk to you
not doped out
of my mind.
---
And when it's all done
but there's still so much
to say, do you choke
on your words
or commit to them?
You don't commit
to shit.
---
At last, at last
oh at last, a
definitive
answer.
Oh, the disappointment!
Once I swallowed
so many seeds
that my stomach
sprouted crimson
poppies and
carried me off
to sleep for ten years,
adrift among them
like I was one myself,
resting softly
atop a red sea.
---
The real me
is much less
interesting,
far less potent
than I once claimed
to be, too mild
to be of much use
to anyone
who doesn't get it.
---
I didnt get it.
I do now.
Do you know what I mean?
You do,
you do.
Where have I gone?
I live in fear again.
The knowing is worse
than not knowing
but being miserable
anyway,
like the poet
who scowls
when she should be
happy, like the way
you grind me to dust
as soon as I get
complacent
about your love
when everything in me
is screaming
this is wrong.
---
The real threat
is much more
insidious,
invisible, yet
could take me out
at any time. Yes,
I live in fear again
but I don't know
what for.
---
Yes I've had some
problems, exposure
through film negatives,
the way you used to
turn all negatives
to positives
with just a hunch.
---
I don't want to fall asleep
and never wake.
I wish I had
more pills to take.
---
I am tired.
Lies.
When I'm alone
I whisper what
I really want
three times in a row
just in case
theres someone
cosmic listening
who gives a shit
as I rehash the past
and it blurs
with the present
where nothing is
possible.
---
if you cant even
tell yourself the truth
who can you trust
when it all falls apart?
My ghost haunts
these streets,
those sheets
you curl up in at night
like an illness
you've spent two years
running from.
---
I will never recover
from my own
stupidity or you
and that is exactly
the fucking problem.
A thumbs up it is, then.
Two thumbs up
for how many years
I fucked up,
ten more
for how fucked up
I am now.
---
No one has even asked
if I'm okay but
rest assured
I'm in abject terror
every goddamn time
I shut my eyes
and see your face.
---
Twenty thumbs up
just for that alone,
alone like me,
eyes wide open,
heart closed
for business.
Living with it.
I view my self worth
in pills, as many
as it takes
to hollow out my
insides like
a long dead
tree trunk.
---
I'm just trying
to forget you
on my own terms.
Fears.
Don't forget
you used to pretend
we were cool
long after
I went off
the fucking deep end
if I have to
still pretend
I don't remember
the way you'd always
grab my hand
in your sleep
like it was last
fucking
night
instead of
a couple thousand
ago.
All hope abandoned.
You're goddamn right
I am angry
I can't remember
security, meanwhile
you sleep soundly
at night
with a song
in your head
in all my dreams
and all of my dreams
are of you.
---
To know yourself
does not mean
you have to like it.
---
It just means
you don't have to
wait in line
if you want
a front row seat
to the slaughter.
Changes.
When you forget
me I promise
not to shed a tear
if only you
sedate me.
---
I am like
a car crash
in the summer
when no one's around
to hear me scream.
In winter
I adjust
accordingly
and scream
whenever
necessary.
---
Let me stumble
back home.
Welcome me
without fanfare.
---
I am so sorry.
I just didn't know.
I just didn't know.
Carrying on.
I remember the room
where we met
like I could've lived
there forever
if only you didn't
leave.
---
When one door shuts
so does another
and another.
It will never be
enough and
neither will you
no matter how many
times I batted my eyes
in your general
direction.
---
You get what you give
back, which explains
my current position
in your gutter.
---
There's just too much
death and no way
around it
other than through.
Now you're a loss.
Your absence
never felt like loss
until I realized
you
can't
go
back
in
time,
no
matter
what hell
comes your way.
Shameless.
Practice self defense
inside me,
kicking and screaming
and pounding against
this emptiness
in me, the vast chasm,
my body a great
dark void
you are paid
to navigate. Thrust
harder, make me
cry out like
we are the only two
people left
inside and
we have to get out
soon.
---
If all we do is fuck
there wont be time
for anyone else
to notice that
not only did
we leave together
we never showed up
in the first place.
---
It's all or nothing
baby, and
I've come prepared
to take it all.
In someone else's gutter.
I don't have a
better self, just
this shitty model
balanced
on a shelf, yet
somehow
I am still
the optimist
even when
I am kicking and
fucking screaming.
---
Things never turn out
the way we wanted them
to, for instance
I am sure you never thought
I'd be sleep walking
cardboard mazes
of tiny screaming faces
night and day,
day and night,
never finding
relief.
---
While it seems true
that I've smoked myself
stupid, with me
you'd have drank
yourself to death
and never made it
half this far, and
hey. Now you don't
have to watch me
die here
---
beneath these paper
sheets, young and
stupid, or
some old genius
it doesn't matter
anymore.
---
Never has.
This isn't your gutter.
Not this time.
Recycle, reuse, repeat.
You liked me better
when I was less
bitter, still
shiny, new,
less sore.
---
I liked you better
awed by me
when I wouldn't
have known
what to do
with you
in the first place.
---
Things can sour,
it's what you do
with the rot
that becomes
the reality
or the compost.
SNRI Blues.
Here,
take this fog
and replace it
with a new one,
one you cant
crawl out from
and by the way,
if you ever do
and change
your mind, well,
that's not your
choice to make,
pal.
---
You will burn
and itch
and never run out
of places to scratch
until you find out
what for.
---
Your bones will
still ache. So will
your broken heart
as you stare up
at the big wide world
from the gutter
you belong in.
---
It's better this way.
It's what you deserve.
But it's not,
it's not,
it is not.
Give and take.
When I'm alone
I make due trying
to fit myself inside
these paper walls
and wait to see
how long it takes you
to even notice my
chewing and
clawing.
---
I've been masked
for so long that
the ones I was born
with no longer seem
like enough
now that I've been
unmade and
recycled over
and over again
here at the end
of the world.
---
I still cant
make eye contact.
---
Look,
I may be a shadow
of a whisper
on your wall
elongated
by the moon, but
I thought you were
the fucking sun.