i dreamt of a witch who would not leave my home, having snuck up the stairs and transformed before my eyes from middle aged real estate agent to wizened old grandmother who bore no children. broomstick to her throat, how ironic, i held her in her place until the police could arrive who were masked witches themselves, and just as they all had convinced me i should let her go, i couldn’t stop asking, how did you get in? why this house? and she backed out of the front door and all was revealed and she smiled, i can only watch others have children, i can never have any of my own. never any of my own.
Category Archives: words
hardbound
hardbound, hard lived, against the rails, she wrote of gaps & pressure, of shifting place & possibly the error of momentum; how were we real like this? she said,
all i can feel are gaps and pressure from where the gaps should’ve been.
all i can feel – i can feel nothing else, this is it in its totality, everything is this feeling
are gaps – empty spaces, absences in a sequence, things in a row then suddenly not, but resuming again; gaps do not happen in isolation, they can only by noticed in a crowd
and pressure from where the gaps should’ve been – pressure from things that are there now, non-space, filled space exerting, pushing back or on, things that do not belong.
there should be nothing there but instead, instead, instead.
the ghost of it
the ghost of it, remember. it lingers. the crack through the glass, racing towards the lips. we smiled then, as all things. the pitch of a staircase too narrow to navigate. she told me the children were sleeping. were they mine, i ask, to this day. echo this, hips on parchment. hands pressed into a mirror at dusk. i turned suddenly and she had me. and the rain, the steady rain.
lack of
don’t make a habit of it. of trailing through the dark, through the bushes with spider webs tangled around your waist and pine cones snagging your collar. don’t make a habit of waking up out this nightmare and into this fantasy life you are living with an elegant wife and bouncing two children. it is the night that strays you, makes you a vampire, a junkie, a zombie, the lack of sunlight, the lack of life, these long hours into silence where the streets are draped with nothing, no one, not a single fucking sound.
the idea is, to build the bankroll
the idea is, to build the bankroll and unfortunately you’re going to have to do it slowly, dollar-table by dollar-table. you have no choice because you were reckless and impatient.
now sit with the clowns and bear with the show.
in due time having your due
sometimes you want a lazy day, i day full of nothing. what did i do today. i was kind to my daughter and i was also cruel. i am always kind and cruel. to everyone. even the newborn. even my lover. she has suffered the most of all. why do they stay? why haven’t they abandoned me? or is it just a matter of time, is it all in due time.
but there are days like this
but then there are days like this, quick and meaningful, sudden rush off to the beach, haphazard collection of towels and diapers, right there within minutes, waves pounding the shore, and my daughter and i in the thick of it, my wife feeding my son in the sun, and an incredible serenity between each fearsome lapse of the tide.
cracked until not dreaming
and how does madness begin, how does the fear strike you. middle of the night, flash-rush, sudden children straight into certain mortality, death death death and a pair of nines, i swear i screamed for the first time in months, and she was afraid to touch me and i didn’t want to be touched, just tossed and turned the rest of the night, every hour, on the hour, cracked until i no longer dreamed.
ridiculous bad poker
i don’t know what is but since july 4th, after playing heads-up with pops, my poker has been terrible, bad timing, bad read. it’s like i’m just throwing punches against bricks and i can’t stop.
just an asshole
there are times i am utterly appalled by myself. it’s like a switch, a jekyll hyde, and boom, i’m the biggest asshole there is.