i haven't posted since november last year.

so here.

bad poetry #24

my army of ex girlfriends
ambush me in dreams
smother me with their bosoms
"why have you forgotten us?"
"why have you moved on?"

over time they blur into one
enormous grotesque hobbling anime fiend
a sensory stew of familiar scents
sweaty skin and coital vocalizations
a golem raised from the dirt of heartbreak

my army of ex girlfriends
relentless in their pursuit
of a fond memory that i may hold
"what about the good times?"
"what of the joys we shared?"

charitably and honestly i reply
that in stillness
nothing is ever forgotten
my center is still
but life is kinetic
and so must i be

running

sometimes you run, metaphorically.

past bus stops, decorated indian temples, upmarket riverside eateries. you run until you are too tired and numb to feel anything; happiness, sorrow, pain, regret, elation, even the feeling of being tired. then you collapse in a zen-like calm, the certainty of feeling nothing potentially better than the possibility of feeling good.

while you run you stack layers upon layers of moments and distractions, burying items and people and things you wished you hadn't said and the helplessness of situations you could not control and the nagging thoughts of things you could have done but din't do.

and you get frustrated that your mind harps on such needless things when other people have serious issues at hand; like waiting for a donor heart (which means someone else has to die for them to live), or trying to find a third minimum wage job so they can feed their family of 10 growing kids, or tracing a family member who dissapeared after he started that 'subversive' anti-government blog. you try to rationalize it by blaming the piscean sign you were born under, even while you know this explanation is glaringly irrational. so you are left with the only conclusion that your inability to shut out your own petty problems must prove you are selfish.

but you can't shut them out, in your dreams you are looking for someone. you visit their bedroom but find everything has changed and there is someone else living there. everyone you meet in the dream is a bit like that person, but only they're not that person, and they don't know where that person has gone, and you wake up without ever meeting the person you were looking for.

it must be time to start running again.

voted most powerful moment in my film viewing experience

selective memory

i'm think i'm getting better at forgetting things that cause me distress. i would like to have memories of galloping unicorns to fill in those voids.

nice horsey.

art imitates life imitates art

so like, that's me, sitting on the couch, except it isn't. after enough drinks, i couldn't tell the difference between footage and reality.

the satellite

i want to be self sufficient
without need for oxygen
at a vantage position
to burn up on reentry

from a cold orbit
spying sleeping children
and jaded lovers
i wish for nothing

i am the satellite
speaking in coded beeps
sweet signals of endearment

to a world without comprehension