inconsistencies.

"If your lake is overflowing, I'll drink your water."

[writtenseconds]

how do normal people cope with a sense of being?

[writtenseconds]

my car's been rattling for over a year since we jumped the curb who knows what could happen so I turn up the radio and drive 9-4-15

[writtenseconds]

tree rings

goddamn foxglove you haven't called me that in years you're not as young as you feel like tree rings running circles around your eyes you've seen the seasons change going back the words caustic fleeing your perfect teeth I'm gonna bury this acid and hope it doesn't burn its way back when does nostalgia become contentment in the present tense? I hope we're still okay 9-4-15

[writtenseconds]

it's never been this cold March lasts forever the seasons are sick mangy and helpless stupid and selfish keep close to me but August burns red and this heat ain't helping so keep the vultures at bay while I navigate this treacherous landscape of contagious apathy don't let me down. 8-1-15

[writtenseconds]

You said that if you ever got to be like them, I'd know what to do. "Don't let me down." I hope you know that you were my St. Jude. A hazard on I-35. A leap from the high dive. I never learned to swim. I read the note you left, like a proclamation and a confession: "I wouldn't like me." Wake up, baby. It's donation day. When you find the answer, please let me know. 7-31-15

[writtenseconds]

fireworks have gone and left me a hot mess

dearest, stop pulling out grey hairs there's no hint of a silver lining just grey fireworks from the highway reminiscing of an old remedy from your formative years always squinting at visions of hours spent outside your house telling you to stop focus on what's to come you'll never stop squinting before they kill you with the "hows" and "whys" just remember kill 'em first 7-5-15

[writtenseconds]

shoot up, baby foreign ink and setting smoke sinking below the incline fueling the fires of misconception and interpretation in a feeble attempt to pledge allegiance or forget the pearly gates are padlocked for a fox in hiding with empty sockets and a growling stomach 4-19-15

[writtenseconds]

I told myself that when the feelings came back the acidic aftertaste of bottled up regression that I would break them and reassemble them into words with meaning with substance like I used to but it seems that I remain caustic bitter like the leaves at the bottom of your teapot

fuck.

[writtenseconds]

knives

3:00AM delirium once again, here we are despite heavy eyes sleep deprivation we stay awake with lenses focused worried we'll miss our moment did we make the most of our opportunity? take a number, sandman this may take awhile 4-9-15

[writtenseconds]

When I was a little boy, I was terrified of thunder. I would shout at the thunder, bury my head under my pillow, and turn up the TV as loud as I could. Thunder and I never saw eye to eye. But, sometimes thunder would bring hail. It was the most perplexing thing to watch ice fall from the sky in the middle of July. The constant pounding on the rooftop (years later my car would learn about hail the hard way). When all was said and done, I would sneak outside when the air was still, petrichor, and grab a handful of impossible ice. Quick as I could, I would pile the hailstones into our freezer, right next to last year's birthday cake, doing my best to make them last as long as possible. Our freezer became a preserve for my childhood memories. Before they melted. Before they spoiled. They usually lasted months before being thrown out and replaced with frozen pizza and TV dinners. 3-28-15

[writtenseconds]

february

it always seems like the days get shorter with little warmth from the sun salt stains cracked skin seasonal unease i’ve been holding on for too long with an ache in my wrists some call it carpal tunnel

isn’t it strange to think so?

2-19-15

[writtenseconds]

365 (II)

you live in autumn but are frozen in winter I am so sorry

[writtenseconds]

This house was built on a hillside suburb hot summer night I'm sleeping on an incline I can't help but feel like I'm slipping As the cicadas are buzzing Passing through a hole in the screen door Flying blindly in darkness Striking anything in its path It isn't until that cicada hits you right in the face that you wonder, "what the hell am I doing?" 12-28-14

[writtenseconds]

"real talk"

[writtenseconds]

the nights are never fun when your mind is on the run and there's no one to catch you sprinting, but sometimes the wind chimes and solitary states of mind aren't so bad afterall.

12-11-14

(apparently something i wrote for famous--frost)

[writtenseconds]

"where are you originally from?" 11-26-14

[writtenseconds]

I mastered the art of crochet and I crocheted her a winter scarf and one night at the bar I gave it to her with a note that said something like, 'I hope this keeps your neck warm.' If it doesn't give me a call. The key to finding love is fucking up the pattern on purpose, is skipping a stitch, is leaving a tiny, tiny hole to let the cold in and hoping she mends it with your lips.

"Pole Dancer" by Andrea Gibson