10/20/10

sometimes, i wish it all would be the same.











(back when we thought we were invincible and we didn't take each other lightly).

you.

And I am fool
for not understanding
just how important the moment(s) were when they were being experienced.
The small times,
those small times.
Like...
driving your aunt's car and listening to mixes you made back in High School...
or.
like, having yard sales in the mornings with your mother, selling our things.
Or,
lying in bed with you.

If I have learned anything,
I have learned that I should never want more than I have.
Excess does not mean happiness (I should fucking know that).
If I will learn anything,
it will be that I am grateful for the present and for knowing and loving you.

j.

I don't want Jordyn to leave.
Ok, I mean I do want her to do this for herself but there is a tiny space floating somewhere that would be quite alright being selfish and having her here.
But if it really came down to it,
I would not want her to pass this up.

But as I was sitting down in the Starbucks by my work,
something sunk in.
Once she leaves, there will not be anything to look forward to when I come home.

Fuck.

48th st.

fuck. that house. there was a fence surrounding that house.

YOU DON'T HAVE A

big mouth.

26/21/18/11

this mid life crisis is really only a thesis, both end with "is" and "is" can only mean one real thing. there is no danger. this is exciting. this is the time when doors will be opening-not closing. everything can mean nothing or something-depending on how i look at it. and currently, i am tired of staring at the dreary. so, i will be a creator of sorts and rally odd thoughts on the past and futures and worry not. WORRY NOT.

wigs.

wigs. they were different colors, sometimes. and to think that she must have cared a whole lot to have her babies back that she would go through all of the trouble of buying a few wigs. i wonder what made her choose certain colors? i remember her hair has always been the color of Auburn. I remember wanting to dye my hair in order to match hers. I remember when I looked up to her. I remember when she was our hero. Ours. My brother and I. That's right. I have a younger brother but sometimes, i forget that he is not the elder. Older. Older than I. So, she bought wigs and became a disguise. All the while, I-never knowing-that she would forever be a disguise. Even to her own children. I know this now. 26, and now it finally hits me.

remember that

when i was younger, i used to read. i read to take myself out of the element. i read because i had to. there was nothing else to do to distract me from what was around me. i think to some degree, I still read for this same reason. hide yourself in some pages, forget what is real forget what is not. my mother. she was always alone. fraught with anger, there have always been two sides to her. i think maybe the process of poverty, or maybe it's in the genes- or maybe she was exposed to filth as a child- there is no endpoint to excuses. (remember that) my mother. her skin has always been the same color. no emotion i'm all emotion. no emotion coems through her. i think it's maybe the cycle of her frustrations, or maybe it's her environment, or maybe it's the people that linger and hover around her- there is no endpoint to excuses (remember that) i stay and linger and hover around her over her over her over her as if i can protect her. but i know how this shit is going to end.

familia

this music in the hotel lobby is draggin' me down. my family is a fucking joke. they are bringing me down.

solo swell

"knowing mother, I knew that I would never really know mother" everyone has left the hotel for dinner. it is roughly 7:40pm and the door has stayed shut for some time. everyone is walking down the blocks that i have walked so many times before. this city is Sacramento this city was where we once loved one another. so many others. lately, all i ever do is think of the past. i don't mind this except for the fact that it then creates a gnawing pain that won't stop. sometimes it's at my side, other times it is headed more toward my lungs. at times, i feel it losing it's color. but it just keeps on going and my mind starts racing. too much remembering. can you please lose this memory bank faster? what the hell is going to happen if i do end up losing my memory? MOTHER. shit happened during childhood that wasan't supposed to. FATHER neglect is a very heavy thing.

6th st never leaves me

nostalgia.

the deranged best friend.

all i see are numbers

all i think about is that porch

we used to sit in

dangling our legs over the grass

toes in the air

eyes to the sky

wide

high

and you were always high

popping some pills

smoking

taking

talking in the dark park

at night counting the angels

i wanted to be your angel

but you wouldn't let me hold your hand

but you wrote me a love letter

i have it still

somewhere

do i?

i do.

i found it as a surprise in a box with other letters and papers that i should throw away

the best thing about that house was that there were secrets and confidences

that we all never threw away

seriously

they are still buried deep inside there.

ODD FUTURE

you are intriguing me.

OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND

This new years started off hopeful.
But by the time 1am trolled in,
alcohol and tempers ruined what could have been a very peaceful and memorable night.
And yes,
this new years will be remembered
but not for the right reasons.

Oh, well. Goodbye you.
Can't let dumb shit get me down.

Here's to the rest of the year with high hopes and big sighs.

3rd st.

i remember
awkwardly getting out of my car
it was night
and the lights from the buildings
were beautiful
because they froze
somehow against your face
your face-
the smile that stretched always-
was bigger that day
and i did not know your face
as well as i would come to.
and i did not know as much as i would
about you
but i knew that you
were going to be remembered.

15.

and in the early part of the night,
you and i
huddled next to the foot of my bed
and watched the shadows on the walls
dance
we listened to Devendra in a trance
heads together
we wanted to kiss
but instead we talked
about nothing and everything
and nothing at all
about years upon years
and arms upon arms
and i knew that you would become my best friend
so much more so than any old lover.

duckduckgoose

children are playing inside the hotel lobby
and everyone is going crazy,
including myself and my best friend.
she is throwing away worldy possessions for freedom
and in this, solace.
there is nothing wrong with this.
i don't know what is going on anymore inside her head
but then again,
who am i to think that i own her?

WOAH.


Life has been pretty strange in such a good way the past few days.

old words.

i desire strength like i desire water-

i am attracted to honesty like i am to words.

i think beauty is a posthumous object and the true sight to herald is a lover's wound or a friend's tears.
the only sad thing in this world is the potential people lose when thinking otherwise.

1996.

the universe is a standstill
on the window sill
or the bedpost
where love had been made
with images
hovering over the intimate scene
a bedroom smell
breaths in your hair

locks of hair
always on the ground

always wanting to be around.

angel baby

the
words
fall
right through my hair.

there's hardly any color left.























p.s. happy birthday Jeff Buckley. Marry me already.