Waiting for mike

I keep forgetting to save things for myself, for tomorrow  I use them all up today just to get to sleep I've got some mighty expensive habits I keep forgetting where I am I keep cultivating an inward perspective of me I hold it sacred and protect it at all costs Do not burst my bubble, do not impede I climb up the mountain one peak at a time The view keeps getting better and better Fresh air rushes in my nostrils and sweeps by my face You should have re-returned while I still had a chance Underrated, the re-return Double back, act before you think Act swiftly and do not doubt your moves You did the best you could in those moments I keep waiting for some big monumental thing to happen But they are happening every second They are small, and form into a whole You better not leave me on this dirt road You better not kick me out of the car I'd have to hitchhike back into town Look at me, take me in Because it's the last time you'll see me while i still love you Next time, yo...

me, me, me, me, me more cowboy than you

Shackled to the stairwell, neither up nor down In a middle place, a place of vague indifference Finally clear enough to recalibrate my sights So much to live for, but not remembering all of the reasons Entranced in a fugue state, not nimble enough to deny myself The camera is on and i can feel everyone watching me But they are not really watching I'm on in the background breaking the fourth wall, screaming into the screen And they change the channel, perhaps something better is on

By Nomad girl For nomad girl   There is a girl in the world named Kayla, and I don’t know where she is off to now. If I had 10 guesses I don’t know I’d get within 100 miles. She was right with the wind, hopscotching her way across the pavement. She couldn’t stand to be in the same place for more than a week at a time. She denied herself any comfort or rest, she had to be moving on and moving on and moving on. Maybe she was in San Francisco where she’s from. Maybe she found herself on a farm in Kansas, she could be married to a ranch hand by now. Likely she’s somewhere “en route”. A few people have caught a glimpse of her, she is like a little bug flying across your peripheral. Maybe you could focus on her for a second, but before you know it she’s gone, and you’re squinting to the distance for the little spec. I caught her in a jar only for a second. We both pressed our faces against the glass. I must have looked like a giant. Because I know she looked miniature. Catch and release,...

I first saw her outside of Zooks Books. I was across the street at Cafe Lift getting breakfast with Donovan. Usually at that time I would still be sleeping, but i hadn't been able to drift off the night before. So at dawn I had to stop kidding myself and give up that i would sleep at all. Insomnia was becoming routine. At least twice a week I'd lay awake, staring at the uneven paint on my ceiling. I rarely ate breakfast, but I'd been craving Cafe Lifts pancakes for days. Plus Donovan worked nights at a club nearby, and i knew at about 6:00 he would be finishing up, likely famished and looking for decent company.  We sat and talked as he inhaled his full English breakfast, and I ate my short stack of pancakes.    "you drown your pancakes in syrup" Donovan said    "doesn't everyone? And butter for that matter"  I grabbed the little ramekin of butter and added it to my plate.   "why are you up so early?" he asked  I stuffed a big ...

 My ex girlfriend loved bears passionately. Grizzly, black bears, pandas, you name it. Early on in our relationship she went through a bout of deep depression. She had lots of health problems, and the medications she took often triggered intense mood swings and sadness that lingered for weeks. During those times I would be there with her, doing whatever i could to ease her pain. Mostly, that meant just simply being there with her.  We went to the zoo and saw a sloth bear. The bear didn't excite her like i thought it would. She told me she only felt sad that the bear was locked away.  She loved sweet potatoes and I would make them for us to eat almost everyday when she was struggling. She never tired of them, even if they were prepared the same way over and over. But i refused to let our little feasts grow stale. Each night I would come in with a fresh bag, determined to find a new way to prepare them. That's the beauty of the potato, the sheer number of ways to produce so...

 a constant disappointment a fear of being forgotten jealously wondering let down, let down, let down etc. sadness grief boredom nostalgia melancholy self reckoning delusion both positive and negative   hope the horrible absence of it lack of libido not horny  mundane tasks overthinking love lust envy aggravation acceptance pondering recounting pain shopping bleeding out constant visions  anger acceptance denial compartmentalization  rationalize or die desire love lust disgust  the absolute end of the world reckoning accepting pain freedom realizations more disgust constructive conversations temporary distractions chatting with blossoming friends who walk past videos on stoicism  videos on acceptance i don't care if you know i love you or if you know how deeply i care i don't care if it boosts your ego more power to you i do love you and i will forever and i don't want you back i wouldn't touch you with a 10 ft pole but fuck do i love you  

His name was Wayne. He had lost his wife about a decade before in a tragic car accident. It was not her fault, but that of a drunken man who is now rotting in a cell. Every year on the anniversary of the incident, Wayne wrote the man a letter. He didn't quite know why. Perhaps it was a way to hold on the the last thread of her that remained. Maybe he wanted to ensure the man wouldn't forget what he has done, and to whom. The man will never forget the innocent life he took, but Wayne wanted to make sure. He wanted the man overcome with guilt everyday for the rest of his life. The man would feel it anyway, but Wayne's yearly letters served as a stark reminder.  The letters vary in intention, content and clarity. One year he sent a letter explain how he met Sloane, in excruciating detail. How he had seen her car on the side of the road with a flat tire. What sort of car it was, what year, even how many miles it had had at the time. How it was nearing dark and he felt hesitant ...

the darkest and dimmest of rooms attract me what’s the opposite of a moth to a flame worlds apart from my only interest in a different galaxy than my deepest desire my only obsoletion is the self destruction that you bring may you have peace I am happy. I live well. I eat well, I fuck well but when night comes, that’s a different story. the night makes me change throw a few alcoholic beverages into the equation and the world has never know such longing so fuck you and fuck me. and fuck him and him and him and him and fuck you. fuck my sensibilities, and my desire for them to mean something more than they do how do you forget something that meant everything stay busy, start a new project, see friends, get under someone all fine in theory. in theory life goes on, time passes, it becomes dull and I get tired of feeling this way. so tired that one day I just don’t anymore so why am I ignoring a lovely girl, sat lonely in a booth thinking of you morning will come and I will be brand new....

Your warmth is akin to a slow morphine drip. Your presence eases the overwhelming pain of my own self. I don’t like needles but I don’t mind when you stick yours in my arm. You are the horizon line after months of traveling a barren flat desert. Show me the way. I am not content when you’re not around, but I wouldn’t tell you that right now. Be cool. Be cool. Stay the course and stay true. I hear your voice in my head throughout the day. I hear your soft words and the naive punctuality they bear. I’m not going to be a fool for you. And you don’t turn me into one, so fair is fair. But trouble is coming due to my inclination to ruin anything good at this stage of my life. I won’t compare you to anyone, but even wrapped in your warmth I feel lonely. Though, when you leave to use the bathroom or get something from the kitchen I am back on the front lines. I don’t want you to go anywhere. Stay in the imprint we’ve made on my cheap foam mattress pad. Call me a dozen times throughout the day....