Waltz No. 2

I hate all those romantic films
and songs and novels
about how things work out.
How they realize and
fall in love.
How none of it matters anymore.

I hate how easy it looks.
How simple it is
for everything to straighten out.
How they lean in to kiss
and the world becomes
magical and good.

I hate how in those
movies and shit
age doesn't matter,
occupation doesn't matter,
the world doesn't matter,
society doesn't care.
I hate just how fake that is.

I hate watching these shows
where everyone gets to 
love who they want
and nobody finds out,
or nobody cares.

How hard is it in real life?
Impossible.

I don't think anyone will ever
be able to love me wholly,
simply because I am a little far gone.
A few too many things are wrong with me.
I am too unpredictable and sad
for anyone to love me
or buy me flowers.

No man will ever love me enough
to hold me and tell me it will get better.
Because if by that time that needs to happen,
things won't get any better.

I just wish he would show up
and ring the doorbell
with hydrangeas in his hand
and say he's been worried.

That will never happen.

How Soon is Now?

I forgot what it felt like
to have fun.

I had the best night I've
had in a while.

A belly of Mexican food,
Goodwill goodies,
and some fabulous company
from a really great gal.

Forgot what this felt like.

I like it.
I feel good. 
Wow.

TV Trays

You know what?
I don't know.

I don't know,
and I'm not even
going to try and figure out.

I'm just going to go on 
living my life,
or trying really damn hard to.
Alright?
Sometimes things
get broken,
and you know,
I'm not sure this will glue back together.

When you drop a coffee mug,
it shatters into so many pieces
you'll never get it back together.

This week hasn't been all that good.

I spent Monday night nearly
comatose,
crying on my sofa
like I used to do a lot.
Wearing my robe I wear when I'm sad
or cold.
Because I hate myself, usually.
And because I felt so ugly
and he was there and 
and yeah, I was not in a good place.

And my family has been upset with my decision
about college, and they say mean things to me
and I regret everything. 

People have been rude. 
People kinda suck.

And I dreamt about you 
and your stupid girlfriend,
again.
As usual.
You ignore me or yell at me in my dreams.

Real humdinger of a week.

The Everlasting Itch for Things Remote

Sometimes I get confused about how I feel,
and then I listen to music and realize
that whatever I pick reflects my
mood perfectly
and then I understand. 

So I'm listening to guitar music,
only instrumental
and only a guitar or two,
and it's really lovely
and kind of somber,
and kind of really good sleepy music.

I'm just really tired.

And I feel a little weird
after giving up all of my authority 
roles in D-Town today, because it was 
driving me crazy.
I felt horrible, and I get mean
when put in those situations.

So today I quietly and politely said
I was resigning from my duties.
There was a moment of silence
and a look like "Oh shit, really?"
And then it was ok and it was decided
and explained.

Things felt a little better,
still pretty weird.
But now I think they are ok.

I feel better about this.

But weird overall.

Traveling Made-Up Continents

When you tease me,
and we joke.
When you do your little laugh
(the one that is quieter, 
and very sweet)
as you laugh at me for
my silliness.

When you and I are alone,
when we are working.
As we cut the giant paper 
with only our hands,
taking turns,
as it is a two-person job.
When I earn my "paper cutting badge"
and you take your turn and I make fun
of you for ripping the paper all jagged.

When we are just chatting,
and collaborating.
When we are utter equals
in all aspects of our lives.

I am happy then.

And I cannot, cannot help
but wonder,
is there something behind this?

Because your smile is so sweet,
and your laugh so sincere.
You are so nice to me,
and we can be funny together.

Is there something here,
or am I crazy?
Because when you look at me
like you do,
I just want to ask,
"could we make it?"
I just want to hug you real tight.
And let you know,
I love you, the most.
And I want to know.

Because in cutting the purple paper roll
in the half-light with just you,
and when I am being my paranoid self
and you just laugh lightly,
god, I am just taken aback 
in such a good way.
I just wanted to keep looking at you,
because you were looking at me,
and I couldn't.

Why is life like this?
I'm not quite sure I'll ever decode
such a complex mystery.

A Garden and a Library

When you have a dream
about trying to kill yourself.

That's what's scary,
the residual aftershocks.
It's like radiation poisoning,
it's there,
and doesn't go away.

When you have a dream
about lethal injections.

But then you dream
that you stop.

It's weird, waking up
with a feeling like
you did something bad.
And then you remember and get scared.

New York State of Mind

Hello,
I am home from the center of the universe.
The metropolis.

I am 'home',
but I feel more at home
in the city,
safe and singular
and home.

Don't get me wrong,
I love my house and my family,
but I soul just rested easier
in the city.

And now I'm at a loss.
There is too much space
and not enough stuff.

There are no trains to ride
to put me to sleep.
No people to watch,
no pigeons to follow.

No great green parks
to sit and drink tea in.
No pleasant strangers.

I know what I'm doing now.

I know where I'll be.

And I can see myself very easily
in that place.

And I miss it,
really.
I am back for only a few hours
but I am already missing it.

I am envisioning a future
of a sunny apartment
above a little grocery
with a windowbox for flowers.

I am envisioning subway rides.
Alone.
Or with him.

I am imagining nights out in college.
The neon and crooked sidewalks.

I want to live in the heart of the world,
because I will love and be loved there.

Here,
in some years,
I will leave my front window open in the brisk night,
my bed dressed in white linens, as the trees rustle in the breeze,
dogs are walked below, and the cars shuffle by.
Where there are always lights on, but I can still see the moon.
And he will be brushing his teeth in the tiny bathroom, 
and I will be in a thin robe,
waiting to go to bed.

Here,
is my life as
I want it.