| worcester regional airport. |
[22 Aug 2006|01:36am] |
romantic poem #24
tonight i went to the airport with you
i didn't get to see any planes take off
but we've never kissed as well
as we did underneath those lights
in the middle of the parking lot
inside our car
we asked each other questions
about the parts of ourselves
that we thought we knew all about
in between our pauses and silences
in between our voices that lifted
and fell with each inflection
i realized i was learning more about you
in between the front seats and the trunk
i studied the shape of your hand
and memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat
it sounded better than any orchestra or philharmonic.
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.1 love toast.
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| remember when we were married |
[18 Jul 2006|02:30pm] |
i think i really just need you to wake up next to me, open your eyes, smile, and say
"everything is going to be okay, this is just a phase, we can get over this."
and then i think about how much time i've spent here, how little it is
and how much effort i've been putting in lately.
and how i need to be better
and do better.
and be honest out loud
instead of in hushed phone calls helped along with alcohol.
i should be honest with myself.
i should try more.
and make sure its worth it.
because a large part of me knows it is.
plus the food is great.
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.toast.
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[15 Jun 2006|01:15am] |
plans
i am something to hide.
somewhat of a person who hides, myself.
i wonder when the light from the projection booth is hitting
and ten fingers are intertwined
will the person with the right hand think of me
will the person with the left hand know about me
being somewhat of a person to hide myself in a restroom
or escape from a dinner to talk outside on the phone
am i still the one who creates the problems
or am i the one who watches people get themselves into one
right now everything feels like its falling over
but across the yard things are getting quiet
and the lights are turning out
there will be marks and signs and if you look
if you look closely
at the ring finger
you can see someone else's fingerprints.
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.toast.
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| something better than returning phone calls |
[05 Jun 2006|12:37am] |
i really am a bad person and i really don't want to get sentimental about this, i don't want sentences that say things like "i watched you grow up and you became such an amazing person", or "you're so smart, you're better at things that i ever could have been" or even "i'm sorry about all the times i haven't been there for you". even though those would be true, you'll read that enough in books and you'll see enough of people saying that in sappy movies with all your friends taking up the seats next to you.
and when you exit the theater with all your friends and a couple of you are crying, i dont want you to think "that reminds me of the time my brother said that to me".
but god, i'm going to miss you, i really don't think its fair either and i hope you don't become quiet about things, you're definetly more talkative than me, you're much better at explaining things than i am.
the best part is when people look at us and say we look nothing alike but after spending time with us together they realize that there is no way we couldn't be brother and sister. i think i'm getting sappy so i'll just tell you a story:
you used to run around in diapers and you'd wear crowns and i used to think you were such a little princess and then mom started calling you her princess and she noticed i got jealous and then mom started saying "oh are you jealous, do you want to be my little princess too?" and i would always say "No." and then walk away. and you had to be about three or four years old because you could walk and you had a great laugh and you still do i guess but you laugh a lot less now, i guess we both laugh a lot less about things.
and i told dad to tell mom to stop calling me her little princess and he walked away to find mom and you happened to be in the room with me, we started talking and you didn't talk to me much about anything ever but we both were talking about the cat and you told me it looked like a gigantic snowball and i hated the snow and you told me that snow gave me bloody noses and i agreed.
and mom and dad started yelling and he told her that i was not a girl and to stop calling me princess and she said she was only joking and you just sat on the floor and pet the cat and you were still young and they were still together and we could both hear the sound of him hitting her and things breaking and we always happened to be in the same room together when they fought and i think you remember that because sometimes when you call me you tell me that mom and patrick are fighting and sometimes you call me and say that dad and danielle are fighting.
i always ask "is anyone getting hurt"
and you always say "no." but then you also say the words that the psychiatrists taught us about, "but i think there is a lot of emotional abuse going on."
and you're too young to understand words like that but you're almost fourteen and we're too young to know what words like that mean and brooke, i'm sorry we had to grow up and i'm sorry i'll just be someone else to leave you in your life and i don't want to.
"she's just going to leave you, what if she doesn't love you?"
you and i, we're never going to ever believe someone could love us. not if we keep running away from the people we care about.
i know it doesn't seem like it but i miss you, i'm going to miss you more when i can't see you at all but i don't see you much now, its not your fault, its mine. i let things get in the way, i miss talking to you from separate beds when we shared a bedroom.
i remember when mom said "you're too grown up to share a room with your sister" and i said that was fine but i remember hearing you cry for most of the night the first time we were in different rooms.
i remember sleeping on your floor that night and you dangling your arm off the side of the bed. i held it until you went to sleep.
do you still do that?
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.2 loves toast.
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| our first day together (part one) |
[01 Jun 2006|11:18pm] |
it should be in the afternoon, i want to be able to see the trains passing us by, or would we be passing them? how fast would we be going? how bright would it be?
would everything be grey or is it spelt gray, whats the difference really? are they pronounced differently? what else am i spelling wrong, is that comma in the right place? don't worry so much about it, i guess, i guess i should write it down, see what looks right, see what feels better.
if its not grey or gray or overcast will it be sunny? will we be able to put the windows down? will you hold my hand when we stop at street lights, when the light turns green does that mean we have to let go? why do you drive with both hands on the wheel?
enough questions, heres the story.
i went up to the escalators again, the ones that move across the floor, all anyone has to do is walk up to them, place both feet towards the center and you will instantly start to move across the bridge, you can look out from the left, you'll see the planes taking off or landing although i didn't get to see any of that last time. from the right you can see the freeway, the car coming in, is it even a freeway? what do they call them, highways? (no more questions, stop thinking too much.)
a doctor once told me i have a horrible sense of direction, i would go left thinking i was going right and tell people that i was going right, it wouldn't make sense but even when someone would try to correct me i would still continue thinking that the actual right was really just left, i didn't believe they were lying, i just couldn't switch what was going on in my head. i also liked to play red light / green light, or whatever that game was called, the one where someone stands about 20 feet in front of you, commanding you to stop or go.
you could also see above you, the sky, i bet it looks nice on that bridge when it is raining, the water hitting the glass and not hitting your face, just being trapped inside a bubble.
outside was fine, there were clouds, i was happier with the weather back home but i didn't come here for the weather, i don't think.
"your hair gets longer every time i see you" but i'm not sure which one of us said that, it was true and we might have both said it.
"i have a song to show you when we get in the car" and i'm sure i said that because i was on a plane for six hours and i had listened to this song over and over, knowing that you'd like it, planning for us both to hear it, so we could both listen to it and look at each other at the good parts and hold hands when there was no singing.
"thats fine, i don't remember where i parked" even though you had probably just got out of your car and walked the 100 steps it took to get to where you saw me. no one was around, it was the middle of the day and it was the first day of the week, everyone was leaving, not coming in. so we just walked around the lot for awhile, i think i saw your car maybe five times while we were walking and i'm sure you saw it as well but the first time i said "oh i think thats it" you covered my mouth after the word think came out, so we kept walking.
until you said "i think that i am ready" and i went along, i wanted to learn more about the highways or freeways or whatever, it doesnt really matter.
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.2 loves toast.
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| outside it was snowing / you were in your room |
[30 May 2006|01:20am] |
being outside anymore is worse except for the seratonin. "we would like to talk to you about the drugs you've been taking" but the classroom setting is getting tired and they're lecturing me about the music i listen to or maybe its Highway 61 playing over and over in my head, it cant be the music, i just heard something about economics but now i'm hearing "he destroyed a toilet stall" but i dont remember doing that either.
where the hell is that music coming from.
my mother is tugging on my ear and my father is pacing around somewhere in this room. the school director is smiling or maybe its the funny shape his mouth makes when he is yelling. my parents fight all the time, did you know that?
what does this have to do with girls?
i'm sorry. stop talking.
you know i think she was an ice skater, lets not talk about that though, i think i invited her over last night.
did she come over?
for a few hours, she kept talking and i wanted to listen, i kept staring at her dress though, it was odd, i wasn't looking under it or towards her chest but i think the bad part is she might have wanted me to.
she kept hinting that she had to leave but she wouldn't actually go, we kept talking and i kept asking her those questions that people just feel obligated to answer, she kept going on, it was brilliant. eventually we came to that point where there was nothing else to talk about, though, that one part where theres just too much and the lights are too low and the music is or isnt playing but either way there is a dense sound in the room and if you clapped your hands it would sound muffled and if you clicked your tongue you'd both realize that it was in the other person's mouth.
before it got to that point i told her i would walk her out and it was the worst idea i'd had all night. around that time i decided to pick up the phone and call the leaves and listen to Pakiov and listen to the sounds of the filters being ripped off the cigarettes.
then she started to turn into a melodramatic prime time show. Oh yeah? yeah. she said "you should touch my legs, i'm wearing nice boots."
she didn't say that. how do you know? you made that up. isn't this all made up. well you should tell me the truth.
i kept moving around, i couldn't look at her, i knew i had to make eye contact, i tried from her right side, i tried from the couch, i tried right in front of her, it was hillarious, we just moved around and she didn't say anything, she was talking about figure eights and i was making twos and threes around the room. everything was very incomplete.
your thought process is incomplete, avrey.
i'm avrey now?
well you're not who you think you are, are you?
i didn't know i had a new name. oh i guess you made it up a couple of weeks ago, someone asked your middle name.
get back in the office. i'm in an office, it doesnt matter what kind, at school, with you, at home, we all are in an office.
you should use the restroom.
i should use the bathroom.
maybe your dresser drawers would talk to you would move you into the bathroom and bring in someone with your head on the carpet as you look on at the ceiling and talk about how much you'd like to kiss her cat. maybe how the snow outside is still affecting the towns in the may and in june everything wont be bright but we wont be gloomy and you'd need a visa and i'd need some money but we dont add up to anything less than a room full of lights out lights off and whispered names.
maybe she should bring her cat towards california.
maybe everything including me will leave.
wait, i have a new name now? when did i get a new name.
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.15 loves toast.
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| 21 last year |
[27 May 2006|05:10pm] |
"nobody had ever coached me on acting before"
if i reach my arms out
as far as they will go
i can feel the empty space in front of me
and fill my fists with air and dead space
if i reach my arms out
as far as they will go
i can feel your arms around my waist
and your hands around my back
i have pictures of us that prove we were once happy together
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.4 loves toast.
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| emotional landscapes |
[26 May 2006|09:44pm] |
Yoga
hello life.
you feel like bottled water.
or frozen alcohol.
or the way my friend feels under the sheets with me
when in the morning i wake up, its six am and nothing is
in the freezer
or the cabinets or the fridge.
the dishes are clean
there are breaks in the lines and i want bottled water
i want fish filled into the gallon
and i want floating and swimming
and i want my friend in the sheets / someone else
i want someone else / a friend in my sheets
and the stain on my bed
its fucking great
i think cussing in poetry makes sense
i like that i can talk out loud in my poems
like anyone cares about how to write poems anymore
i want my bottled water in my sheets
i want this back
to be up against the doorway again
instead:
turn and walk down and the stairs and the door and out
and past the road
and go home
turn the lights out
and drink the fish or water.
it is slippery on the way down anyway.
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.toast.
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| hold on. |
[25 May 2006|06:11pm] |
when you dont sleep alone anymore
you're encouraging something
its more of a game
standing outside on the street
watching a fly touch the carpet on the floor of your room
you take your arm fold it back and make a motion
until things start flying off of the ground
until the way you smell isnt even familiar to you
then you're touching your face and feeling something new
rubbing your eyes until you realize they're colored wrong
kneeling on the carpet wondering how you got this way
everything is fine
the way you smell is okay its good its sweet
until you're on the phone with your aunt
hearing half of what shes saying
forming new sentences
hi darling how are you i can hear you how are you
its all a mess of long hair and new smells
i cant get rid of this carpet
the street its pavement its carpet
rather stand in the bedroom face the mirror watch the flash look at yourself
look at the trashcan look at your hand look at the wall look at the sheets
i dont smell like myself my pillow cases smell like something else
and i can still hear myself laughing
in a car or a toilet eating in reverse.
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.toast.
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[24 May 2006|04:55pm] |
hello.
everything is not well, i did call you the other day, i'm sorry i made you uncomfortable, it would have been better to hold you or talk about it, i know you would have turned your head away, i would have buried mine under pillows or blankets, we dont have to see each other cry, its enough to just know we're feeling something.
i will see you soon, i need to, we could talk and kick at leaves and you can kick at my heels the way you have before, we could eat on the grass or even eat the grass and i've lost touch with a lot of things, i'm not getting better though, part of it is leaving you and part of it is leaving myself.
i wanted to write a song i could sing to you but you've never heard me sing and people who sing in front of you makes you uncomfortable.
my favorite activity in art class when i was younger was cutting things out of magazines and pasting them to other colored pages, they always looked so imaginative and fun.
i think i'm doing that right now, cutting everything out but i'm forgetting about it and just letting it fall to the floor.
i'm sorry, do you believe me?
i'm sorry, i'm not sure if i believe me.
i've been horrible, and just irrational.
and i don't have anyone to talk to, i don't, i'd like to think i could talk to you but i'm afraid that people will feel bad after talking to me.
i need to disappear, i want to become a better speller, i want to learn how to talk more eloquently.
i want to remember what it was like with you in that bookstore where i felt so proud yet so hurt, it was a good first thing to do, because it just created so much tension, it taught us to work past it.
i remember putting notes in your box, it was almost romantic but it was just me reaching out, needing someone to talk to.
i dont have a box anymore and if you do have one i wouldn't know where to find it.
i dont think my voice is that bad but i dont blame you if you hate it.
i'll figure out the words soon, maybe i'll just turn it into an instrumental piece.
things will be better soon, i just don't know when.
-joshua
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.toast.
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[19 May 2006|03:08pm] |
"you're much more of a man now than you can ever be again"
in january i received a five pound bag of peanuts
a brown sack appeared one day in our kitchen cabinet
i asked around, if anyone had put them there but no one said anything
i looked inside and there was a note reading: "for joshua"
so i took it to be mine
i started wondering what to do with so many peanuts
i started picking them apart and eating them
learning which ways were easiest to crack them open
i finally decided on pinching them between my thumb and forefinger
each evening when i got home i would practice this over and over
until i didn't feel like eating dinner or doing much else
i started to look at the shells that collected on the floor
at first i had put them into a bowl but that soon overflowed
then it started to fill the table but that became cluttered
so the mess spilled onto the floor and soon it became an activity
seeing how much of a mess i could make with it
when my wife left me i started to drink more
eventually the bag ran out and i started buying more peanuts
i bought them in bulk, in 10 & 20 pound bags
soon the entire house smelt like peanuts, i eventually got used to it
someone offered to show me how to make peanut butter
i said no thank you and continued to crush the shells between my fingers
one day i heard a doctor on the radio talking about the shell we keep
over our bodies, how we block out the bad and keep to ourselves
but its our need to feel loved that keeps us from being content with being alone
and i thought about my wife, the last things she said to me
and i thought about the alcohol, how it put me to sleep the way she used to
i thought about the bags that i bought how they felt to me
how i was crushing the shells, looking for a way into my own heart
tired of being alone but not quite lonely, i waited for someone to save me
satisfied with the smell of my existence, i was ready to be loved.
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.toast.
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[14 May 2006|10:48pm] |
i have this spot on the ridge of my nose
it only comes when i'm dealing with something bad
or something new
its my body's way of saying
everything i once knew needs to disappear
and i try new ways to get rid of awful things
toothpaste covers things up
only the longer i keep it in my mouth
the more and more i start to gag
this isn't about the marks on my body
or the spots on my face
this isn't about anything particular
just about me finding a new place
something more important than
just blank
and i just want everything about this erased
and i dont want to laugh about it
its not funny
i dont want to talk about it
its not worth it
i want words, i want to construct something
that makes sense of all the feelings i have
but all i can come up with is
being across the country is the best idea i've ever had
i wont have to worry about the ridge of my nose anymore
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.8 loves toast.
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| how to fight loneliness |
[07 May 2006|01:30am] |
i am the only person in the world who feels lonely
thats a good way to put it
i'm not as selfish to think that though
all of my friends feel that way right now, i think
maybe i draw it out, bring it into focus
my own, four year long emptiness
filled bi quarterly only to be kicked away with a laugh
maybe that brings it out in my conversations
each and every
and every individual
i know
he says to me something about west coast time
the pacific standard
i conclude something else
a metaphor for windows
a fight with my father
about a room full of doors
"what if this isn't right, though, son? what if something else is out there"
staring at the television set, i imagine my loneliness sitting next to me
with her long brown hair, her eyes and her hands
staring at the window i raise my own into the light
looking at how long my fingers are, how thin they feel
how i want them to fit into anywhere
how i want them to be wrapped with her hands
so i can envision this feeling of being alone
so i can watch as it goes away
when i am on the airplane, replaying the words my father said
thinking about the things i am leaving behind
it will be the last time i have to feel this way
or the first time i realize it will stay with me forever.
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.12 loves toast.
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[05 May 2006|12:28pm] |
last night in a different bed in my old room i felt the bruises on my body from years ago, i felt my wrists breaking again, i felt my head hit the concrete and my chin scrape against the concrete. i felt the knives in my body from the various things in my life involving knives. i felt the needles in my arms and the veins being drained of blood from when i was younger.
i couldn't stop my wrist from hurting and i kept hitting it against anything else, to make the pain change places, i have a feeling what i've done i'm going to be reminded of for the rest of my life.
i think the stress is coming to an end.
all i have to deal with now is the fucked up body i was given and how i screw it up even more each day.
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.2 loves toast.
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[03 May 2006|02:22pm] |
thinking you look pretty while eying your stockings
and i've filled a washing machine with the letters of the alphabet
turned on warm
filled the top with
"i have lost the only person who i talk to"
here we come into something else.
arms turn into bandages, trying to cover wounds each time you take hold of me
my eyes half open, i really dont want to see much of anything
nothing
happy wednesday.
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.toast.
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| chapter two page thirty four |
[24 Apr 2006|11:54pm] |
something less quiet than a gunshot
"there are three briefcases on the table."
"would you like to desribe them to me? apparently you think i'm blind, clearly i can see the briefcases." did someone say something? am i still talking?
"go ahead and pick one."
PUNCTUATION.
i could. i probably wont. i'll probably walk out of this room, close the door behind me, smile to myself and walk to the parking garage. from there i will flip off the parking attendant (would i do that, that seems immature, am i like that. i'm not like that) and drive into the city. how awful. this city.
"am i sure i'm not like that?"
like the last city, like the next one. los angeles like vancouver like seattle like boston like new york, the same people and the same places to eat. there are probably fifty people wearing the same suit as me in this city alone. maybe even this building.
i've got to get out
"i'm sorry, did you say something?"
is he still talking?
"no" yes. "yes" no.
"what?"
"yes."
"how about the one on the right" did i say that. did he say that. what am i here for anyway? aren't you going to answer that for me?
no.
"i dont like the light in here" that has nothing to do with picking one of the three. what if i picked two of the three. which one of the briefcases will have a goat behind it. or drugs, or money, or files, or whatever it is that i'm wanting and you're not providing.
"the light has nothing to do with you making a choice."
state the obvious.
"i'll take the one on the right."
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.toast.
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[21 Apr 2006|11:19am] |
my one sided love
you had affairs
with a lawyer from santa fe
he had a perfect smile
and you told me he was gay
he came over
to our house sometime last may
we didn't talk to much
we just sat and watched the game
he told me about his mother
and he sounded a bit cliche
but the way you kiss him goodbye
made me think that he was fake
one night i couldn't keep my eyes closed
and i think you said his name
instead of talking to you about it
i just drink my fears away
the city's asleep and i'm feeling weak, its probably just my heart
i'd like to ask him things about you that i know you'd never say
but for some reason i dont think you two even talk too much
oh its better off that way
i can see the clouds and the daylight rise, giving us a brand new start
but you still aren't home from his apartment
so i'll just sit and wait
and the next time that i see you i am sure of what i'll say:
honey if you dont mind i'd like to try
we could find another way
i could forget all of my bad dreams if you promise me you'll stay
lets just forget ourselves today
lets just forget ourselves today
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.toast.
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[18 Apr 2006|10:41am] |
i still have the taste of vomit in my mouth
i have to go clean the tub
i am still shaking
and happy.
and i'm cutting my hair off.
i'm letting it go.
most everything.
its just time.
i'm sorry you forgot about me.
i wont forget about you.
there are just too many things.
i realized two things last night.
one of them made me want to start writing again
so i will.
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.4 loves toast.
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| turn ons from december twenty six |
[12 Apr 2006|07:50pm] |
when you said to me: "i guess i sort of knew since Christmas that I wasn't going to make it through the year". i thought to myself: "i couldn't agree with you more".
but then i thought, what do you mean
what do i mean. i know what you're talking about but what am i trying to get at. its your thoughts that make me question myself, what i'm doing, why i'm waiting, what i'm waiting for. let down, drag out, bad habits old friends, new loves, other people wishging things were different and unknown and new and old and used and fuck i need a break
and i need a day off
and i need to turn off
and fill up the tank and buy a new pack and either the gas tank or the cigarette but something has got to be lit soon.
because i need to burn everything.
the hungriest echoes of new lips around your face could make you wish and dream and grow and say "GOD DAMN" i wish those lips were mine. the couples sit and stare and hold and wrap and touch but we just stare and wish that we were them.
but you give spit to other people pretending its mine and i sometimes think i'd gladly give it back to you but you cant hear me. lets quit our lives and work for free and free our lives and work to quit.
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.toast.
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| cheer up soon |
[10 Apr 2006|11:13am] |
poem for a girl with dead flowers in her room
at the beginning of april
you stopped going outside
we all got a bit worried
or excited
maybe just curious
finally one of us was
brave enough to knock on your door
and no one answered
so we went inside
one of us said it was like a candle store
everything was on fire
someone else said
"it smells like soap, maybe lavender"
but i don't know what lavender smells like
so i can't be sure
when we found you in your room you were sleeping
with flowers and books around your bed
pages torn out and petals torn off
and things crossed out around your walls
i told everyone else to leave me
they did; i sat and watched you
your glasses were next to the dresser
i put them on to see if anything was different
but i still only saw
the broken books and the murdered flowers
downstairs the boys had blown out all the candles
and Adam made sure the door was locked when we left
Tyler started the car up and told us to get in
I decided to walk home, sometimes its just much better to walk.
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.8 loves toast.
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