Sunday, July 25, 2010

the boat was sinking

never liked much of the back break, okay. im a libra and a little lazy. I’ll start by telling you about his girl again. she knew how to keep herself busy at night but during the day all she ever wanted to do was.... sleep. despite this she’d call me in the morning, sleepy and hungover. she’d call me to say hello and break my heart. she’d call like i was her only friend, then call someone else who was her only friend. another guy who might come save her, who might invite her her over to visit the next town, the next state, the next distraction. she didnt have any intention on loving the one she was with. im not sure any of us have those good intentions for long. i mean, we do, but there are other things, other places, other dreams…...two people hardly fit inside there. from time to time shed come over and we’d fuck. we’d smoke cigarettes on my back porch. grill hamburgers, drink beers. it could be that simple, i guess, but it isnt. it could be that safe. it could be home.

I work, sun up, sun down. I drive past big square boxes with windows, i work in one, go home to one. I wonder like everyone there anything else? but maybe its because i wasnt looking long enough out the windows to see the flowers and trees, the flag pole. american? southern? i didnt take the time to breathe in the salt of the sea air, merely blocks away. I didnt mediate enough, read the right books, listen to the best songs. my taste in art and movies and blogs is suspect compared to the refined and low-brow hipster friends i associate with. i like young girls with old souls and older women with young hearts. I like pretty eyes more than a sunset. I like books that have previously been read, i like real books over touch pad reading. I dont like touching screens, media hype, multi-tasking, video games, car horns.

on a clear night above my house, you can see the stars. i never paid enough attention in school to learn the constellations. so ive made them up; pirate, horse, tits, big dipper, little dipper, circle, square, half ass cross-bow. the shiniest one i just call ....Star.

ive begun to notice things more. i write everything down. numbered like a list. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. I saw a bird today that had bright blue feathers and i meant to look it up on the internet when i got back home. i forgot and wrote this instead. i think its a blue-jay , some kind of blue bird. there isnt always space enough for the two of us. but mother- fuck im happy you're with me.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

what you love you must love now

she’s crazy- but she fucks good. god, ive heard myself say this much to often. and so what if she’s broken?, maybe everyone is- maybe i broke her.
I'm sorry, i keep building these time machines, keep bringing you back. it's not like there is any real conclusion, not really. not like i won't get half way to you and crash it right to the ground. buried remains of twisted metal and false memories. It's not like i really want to go back, not really.
I never thought she was the kind of girl who would tell someone no. I liked and hated that about her. she fucks guys because she thinks it makes them like her. It’s all she knows, that and the writing, that and the stories; the coming and going, the art of saying good-bye.

"ive never not cheated on someone", i once confessed to her.
the kind of truth that hurts. the kind of truth you should keep to yourself. the reward for truth is often mistrust.
now she's the same as me; a cheat and liar. a whore and thief. a swinger, a baker, a fucking candle stick maker la...
she was always the same as me. pretty words and terrible lies. secrets bled out on a page - vaguely hidden truths between the lines, between the spaces between the lines and the love and fuck and fun that haven't any difference. a freedom and art given to you by another that swallows you up inside, that never seems to calm you the way you think it might. ive made a home, and ive searched for home somewhere in your crazy heart.

all i can say is ..... your skin, I wait for it. i dream of it. i live for it. my whore. i don't know where you are but i know what you are. why does that scare you so? there is a home in our crazy hearts. yours and mine.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

swimming with sea bears

sea bears like warm salty water and the sun. hibernation is in the summer - the opposite of winter bears. sometimes they sleep, sometimes they stay up all night writing tall tales: buried treasure, sharks teeth, pirate hookers. eating, drinking, fucking, swimming, writing, sleeping, crashing waves. Yeah. that's our thing.

all my days by the beach and ive only ever found one single shark tooth. I was about 9 and it was on the West Coat of Florida. not even in my own back-yard. I bent thin wire around it and tried wearing it as a necklace but it fell off and i lost it. I looked for more but only found shells and sea glass.

why not stay home all day and make art? why not be rich with the reward of gifts? i dream of one of those treasure finding things that you wave over the sand. going out on the beach in the early morning looking for lost treasure. I listen for beeps and high tones. gold, silver?. memories someone lost. I'd hang out until the sun was just above the ocean, ready to fall. pages torn from my notebook; a sea-side adventure tale that takes place in a sun worn motel. thieves and liars and whores. it would be mostly fiction. mostly.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Don't Say a Word

The two of us, hanging out, doing stupid shit. If ever a romance had less than a snowball's chance in hell, it was ours. I knew that. But then there we stood, more in love with one another than any two people that I've ever heard about, and brother, let me tell you---- I'm talking since the dawn of mankind.