Category Archives: internals

thoughts, musings, life, etc

frags, internals

scramble

And sometimes it feels like breaking, like I’m scrambling
for pieces and they are all the wrong one, I don’t know
how to make them fit, I don’t know how to make myself
fit into you anymore and I want to, I so want
to, I’ve lost so much, I’ve already lost the pieces
that should matter, does it even still
matter that i lost you

general, internals

it doens’t matter what

it doesn’t matter what or how you put it down, only that you
put
it
down
put it to rest, keep it restless, keep the fingers moving, in and out of here, in and out of the page, the screen
whatever this is
it doesn’t matter, the act matters, the fact of the act
the who you be when you’re no longer me

frags, general, internals

some cracked mosaic

all these little fragments of a life real and imagined, of writing and the joy of it, of loose talk and even looser words, of half thoughts, half scenes, of couples on the rocks, of lovers on the mend, of gangsters and killers and clowns as children, of angst ridden poets, all of you, some shattered whole, some cracked mosaic, and i am happy in that, to have found you again my dear, dear old friend. you never did abandon me, and i had thought i could go on without you.

frags, internals

ever go away

and there are times when the skin is so thin and so real that i rake it over and over to get at what’s inside, to peel it off and see what’s inside, to separate the meat from the bone to feel what’s inside and all i find in myself are maggots and shit and despair like some new tomorrow will never come, like all the world’s roses are perched thorns out from under my chin, like the pressure in my head will never abate, will never grow tired, will never grow old, will never ever go.

frags, internals

to write ceaselessly

to write it ceaselessly, endlessly, until it all goes away, the fragrance of it, the scratch of it, to reduce it all to the trace of a lost thought, something that can fit snugly in the back of the throat where not even the nimblest of fingers can get it. where you will write over it, ceaslessly, endlessly, until it’s all noise, like the way it was before, like the way it was before you were found.

internals

hair and beard

i said to her, yeah ok, the hair i can understand. it’s a bit much, even for me. but, the beard, no. i need the beard. i’m grieving, i need the beard to cover my face.
i turned away, my eyes welled up too quickly, i hadnt expected it, so sudden, so raw. i had to not look at anything.
what? she said, touching my arm, what is it? what is it?
how do i tell her, i dont know, i still dont know where all the pain comes from, all this fucking sorrow.