Don't this look like dark

cold again. good for bears, hiking, and chopping wood. good for blankets and fucking and breathing you in. a good winter for ultra-sonic wave lengths, geometry books and glimmering jeweled eyes.

she teased me with her small haunting, with small offerings. i see shadows, i hear voices now. she used me when she needed to feel good. it's okay, it fits me too. she's a risk, something from the past. I don't want anything new. old lovers fall easily into bed, easily into arms and sleep and words like forever and always. words like i miss you and good bye.

She says we are always close, I'll always be the one, but it's not true. I wont touch her again. In certain moments we might miss each other. late at night i might whisper your name, i might smile and hold back words. It doesn't mean i won't feel you again. we dug our holes with golden rings and shovels. distance, cruel as all snow and rain and diamonds.

Ive gotten into this thing where i look up a new word for the day. Today, it's apotheosis. I look out the window and repeat it to myself the word and its meaning. I use it in three different sentences. I like the word. a word lavish with sunlight, with the gods gladsome songs. the golden power of the sun.

we once ate fruit and discussed Mexico. She seemed serious about going. she wanted to live in a house that jutted out over a high crag, a house with gardens inside and out. We'd grow our own food, make love whenever we wanted, and read the lives of saints to each other through the terrifying night.

just one wish

What is waiting for worth?
What is worth waiting for?
How many miles are we apart tonight? the few are to many and covered with rocks and snow.
we rise to the same sun and fall to the same moon.
I probably remember it nothing like you. I write my story, you write yours.
I love it that way. dirty and repetitive so we never forget.


Birthdays come and go. there is always a build up that lasts until just about the time I wake up and nothing feels any different. I'd expect a quarter under my pillow if i had lost a tooth but another year comes and goes and I'm better off not to look in the mirror and compare last from this and the one before that. another scar and few more lines. if not desired, deserved.
I wish that If I still don't know any better about keeping you in my heart, at least make me experienced.

I'm just trying to tell you I'll be 40 in a few days and i can't fucking believe it. I'll say the same thing next year, hopefully in some better way. I'll make some kind of mid life crisis wish like I hope for any young girl to still find me a little awesome. but then, those are just words.



I bought a Halloween coloring book yesterday and found i could still color between the lines. She once asked me " Is that where you write too?"
What i colored was a haunted house. It was beautiful and gloomy and I wish I could live there. Dusty books and creaky beds. It reminded me of your room. The bed squeaked every time we moved our hips. every time I put it deeper into you.
you were my favorite scary movie.

Why is abbreviated such a long word?

It's her daughters birthday. She turns 14. I go birthday shopping with them at the outdoor mall. I suggest Urban Outfitters but they go skipping off to Hot Topic. I mean she is 14 , I understand. There is nothing in there for me anymore. The clothes to dark and hip, the girls to young. The walls are full of t-shirts with bands. some i know. most I don't. Goofy looking Tripp pants with zippers and chains and well, the Gloomy Bear stuff didn't look so bad.

A gothy looking girl is reading Catcher in the Rye behind the counter and looks puzzled. Should i be working? changing the music?. I'm bored to beat the band. This is what I imagine her thinking. only with a girly inside voice.

It turns out she has to ring stuff up. It seems the birthday girl has selected two arm loads of clothes, arm warmer things, make-up and an Alice in Wonderland book bag just for fun. But she says she really needs the bag because someone wrote LESBO on hers at school.
Wow. Kids are still dill holes. I say.
She laughs. Everything i say is funny to her. My archaic old guy slang. ridiculous.

The birthday dinner. That wasn't so bad. Sushi. Vegetarian Sushi for them and a tempura dessert. She had Tempura oreo's with ice-cream. We had banana-filled spring-rolls with ice-cream. It sounded much scarier than it turned out to be.

Later we all watched a dvd too. She picked STAR WARS. The good one. I'd never watched it on the 60' Plasma w\ surround. It was awesome. It felt like my Birthday. I mean I might have picked going to Urban Outfitters or getting inked, but everything else.

As a bonus cliche' i remember my girl saying to me sometime back: Since it's close to your birthday, how bout we have it on Halloween? she's talking about our wedding. I tell her that sounds perfect. But let's not make it to cheesy. but sort of. but not. you know?

Now that the witch is dead. She has no idea what I'm talking about. Something to do with the Wizard of Oz. Maybe.

whatever killed our spark

I watch the automatic pool cleaner as it moves the length of the pool. It makes its way up and around. back. eating leaves and dirt and whatever else it likes to eat.
it's soothing how it moves through the water. crawling along the bottom, up the sides, and I try to predict which path it will take next. but, it's random. every time different.
still, there aren't many places it can go. there is no escape from doing it's job. eventually
it comes back to the place it started from. home. my pool is it's home.

my feet are hanging over the side and in the water. it's getting dark out. the sky is orange-lime with grey clouds. A mixed drink.
sink or swim
sink or swim
I'm thinking this as I let myself fall in. down. under.
A mantra.
close my eyes, hold my breath.
sink or swim.
I can smell chlorine in my nose. still holding my breath, I am at the bottom. I can hear the pool cleaner.
moving, shaking.

when I break the surface. The sun has gone completely down.
it's dark out. the moon reflects off my skin, slick and wet like a seal. there are the stars. the moon. and fire-flies in the bushes. that is the only light.

when was it that we last swam together at night?. and how the pool cleaner scared you so much. with its hoses, noises, and blue spiky feet and you took it out of the water so it couldn't breathe. so that it wouldn't wrap around you in the dark water.

so i did. I put my arms around you, our slick skin touching. I played polar-bear and took you under with me. my teeth in your neck. Marco - polo Marco-polo - remember our silly games?

and then you -wrapped in a towel with dripping hair. and me in bed under the blanket because the air was turned down so low it was freezing like a hotel room. your skin smelled like chlorine. you said you couldn't believe you were here. that we were together. that you thought we had drowned. but i told you how i let you up for air. I said see... and you looked. scratches from the bear. I am the bear. in summer- i am the bear.

photos: 1heliumglow
3moss-koete

underneath it all

"The greatest gains and values are the farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are, the highest of reality.......

The true harvest of my daily life if somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little stardust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched."
- Henry David Thoreau

In the letter I send, we are friends. I use your name. I am polite. I ask nicely. I don't talk about myself to long and not to much about you. Not to much about what, or if, or why. But hi. but hey, but don't our games seem silly now. Monday-Wednesday-Friday. meaning what? What days were mine or yours. Silly. Sweaty. Even kind of a sickness.

In the letter we are friends. I am your fan. You are mine. You don't hate me. I am happy for you and I say it with a smile. I use my funny words. I say things you don't mind. I do it because you ask me.

In the letter we are friends because I didn't think you would. If I asked. If i wanted. Would you? I ask but only in a way so you'd know. not him. not them. not her. not anyone.

And you and I to be really in the same place at the same time. Alone. It wouldn't be any less dangerous. you and I underneath the same sun or moon and stars. Together. I'd want to touch you. To tell you lies and hear them back. To know you, like you are now. Not then. In all this time. and It took so long. I've learned. That in a letter. this. In that distance. Safe between the bars. I can give you happiness and love. Even if that love is not me.

Watched the documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0436231/. See it if you haven't. His music has been covered by Beck, Bright Eyes, ..many others. I had heard of the cd covering his music and downloaded many of the songs here and there over the last two years. Didn't know much about the guy. Saw the dvd at the library and gave it a shot. I'm leery to go out and rent or use netflix q on documentaries. I think someone even wrote to tell me I might enjoy this once. I'm sorry if you did and I didn't listen. I'm tired of love letters and hip bones. post- it notes all over my walls and in my bed. reminding me of my faults and obsessions. I already know how to hold you down. I already know how to let you go. I already know neon paper and black permanent marker look best. Don't wash off. Don't wash off after I come. Don't wipe off my kiss. Don't anything. I want you just how I remember.

and the good days are like presents .........

1. BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR:
kids form in groups. cliques, scenes, and perversions. The school patio littered with scabs and scars and walking S.T.D's. smokers smoke and whores whore. his father drinks - her father touches her at night. and i can't complain to much. semi-charmed, semi-hard, semi-smart. what I do is watch. what i do is write. broken streams of thought. a rainbow that isn't quite formed. the pre-cum dripping from cock that gets her pregnant. spider webs.
hot dogs and tater tots is what is served at lunch today. All the white kids drink chocolate milk and all the black kids drink white. Has anyone else but me noticed this?
I am more whore than punk rock, more glam than indie, more geek than jock, more dick than kind, more kind than nice, more pretty than handsome, more or less I am not noticed.
To be a senior is to be that much closer to escape. this asylum, this prison. It's like home. It is home, we all want to leave, and we never want back in.
things will be different out there, things will be much better. this is what we wish for. Be careful what you wish for.

2. YES, I COULD
if someone had a knife or a gun or the metal detectors malfunctioned. If that loner kids back-pack were to be filled with C4, if he could pass fucking chemistry. instead dumb mother- fucker talks like he is a black rap star - urban ghetto set in this upper middle class no-where near a real city town. He says "yo yo yo".. calling to his homey's. No-one turns around.
I'd welcome chaos and destruction. something anything.
the zombies, the sheep, flesh on bones, hormones, kids dying to fuck and fight and be free but having no clue how. pent up, penthouse, spread, spread disease, hate, rumours...eating, laughing, faking, lying, grabbing each others flat asses.
That girl over there knows of bands you've never heard of. to skinny with stars on her wrist, wasting away with her face in a magazine. She knows a drummer in a band. She's fucked a drummer and I've fucked her. So I have fucked a drummer. Big deal.
have you googled her, have you seen her myspace?, have you gone over to her house on Friday nights? I have. have you seen my t-shirt over there? can you return my books, can you return my name, can we take it all back. can i teach you to hurt again. be good again.
Oh wait, it wasn't her. I say "fuck it" forgetting to use my inside voice. The girl looks up. I am certain I just as easily could fall in love with her. I tip my pen toward her and she glares at me. Yes. I could.

3. I'LL LET YOU READ ME
look- this kid just walked by me and called me a bad-name, I stare back at him shooting ninja stars into every part of his body. i understand his mother must love him. he may go off to fight in a bloody war for our country. be a hero of sorts. he may just as easily stay at home lying on a couch collecting disability checks from a fraudulent compensation claim. All in all, he is no better or worse than me, I am no better or worse than him. but there is only *one* of me. Of this I am certain. I smile to myself at this little *matter of factual* - and what's more... I smell to fucking good today. mmmmmm. The thing is this: I love a little to hard, and am a bit to crazy for most people to fuck with. I'll let you read me a like book of fiction.

4. LOOK HOW YOU'VE WASTED YOUR TIME ON ME
my pen runs out of ink. I had a thought. now it's slipped away. has that ever happen to you?. The part where you look around and wonder how you got to this point. this moment. you try to figure out was it better a few hours ago, a few days, months, years. I am pretty content. I'd rather be dead than content. they quite possibly could be one in the same = equal. equal reminds me of math, reminds me there is only a few more months left at school, reminds me of prom dates, and all these stupid fuckers like me, trying to fit in. I realize i don't hate anyone and i hate that. I'm still mean but I feel so sorry for everyone around here, I just wish them happiness. No I am a piece of shit, I wish myself luck and charm and grace. I rather don't care what happens to the rest of them. Except maybe her.
Another glare, another day in ruins. Loving everyone, writing it down so that i won't forget, but I will. I do. Whoever finds this, don't waste your time. throw it out before you get to this point. Oh fuck. To late. You loser.