coronado creeper

you are standing with your hand
on my striped knee
at 4:06AM
'hey--what the fuck'
is what I scream
and in Katie's room you said
'they told me to come here'
and in Rachel and Sarah's room
you stood in only gray boxer briefs
twisting her breast, perched on their windowsill
and I spoke in a quiet confident voice to
G. Guevara and I remembered every
single episode of Law and Order:SVU
I watched when I was alone for 6 months
and I remember feeling alone for 6 months
and I understand why you broke into
15 girls' rooms last night
to touch them while they slept, sir

college poem 5 of x

again with this hallway
and these echoes
gray is pushed to my ears
I stop at a water fountain
drink and push my weight
against the key in the
girl's bathroom door
and
vomit
water
for the next ten minutes
while looking intently
at the floor tiles
I have found nothing in them
and I have returned
empty handed with you as well
so for now
I will push my face
into this communal toilet
and spew blankness
for as long as it's still coming up, I guess.

fuck this poem

will you look in my
hateful killer whale eyes
with a concerned expression
when I scream
look what you made me do

will you listen to
each word coming out
of my full pink chapped lips
with your eyes growing
wet wiping them angrily
on the stained corner
of your shirt sleeve

tequila had been rendered
ineffective when mixed
with 10mg adderall
1g of sour diesel
coated my lungs
and I hacked and
it felt like I was going
to destroy the small
galaxy of the coronado
smoker's area

I am slowly destroying
several galaxies
in textedit documents
in the passive glow
of phosphorescent laptop light
this is how the aliens do it

you are in a very cultured
music video looking
sophisticated for 8 seconds
I watch those 8 seconds
37 times and think
briefly
look at what you make me do

negative sim interaction points

in mrs. peachtree and the eighth avenue cat
a stray tabby follows mrs. peachtree around
she gives him food and calls him names
one day the cat makes a mess and she is mean to him
the cat goes away
for like 10 pages she misses the cat
and hates herself for being mean to it
in the end, the cat comes back
because he loves mrs. peachtree
and she loves him

I fell into a black hole
where the only thing I scream
is
'you were supposed to love me at the end'
'you were supposed to love me at the end'
'you were supposed to love me at the end'
'you were supposed to love me at the end'
but nobody can even
hear that
in a black hole

more of a status update, really

I have not enjoyed reading for what seems like forever. I used to read a book a night. I have taken two weeks to read half of one book and when I pick it up I am unable to understand it, like it's in Japanese or something and all of the letters look like pound signs.

In school yesterday I cried for a good part of the day, but when people asked me why my face looked like a funeral I wouldn't tell them. I couldn't tell them. I am absolutely obligated to never say anything about her bird-bones or I will lose her. I have already lost so many things. I am watching my childhood wilt, petal by petal.

When I see her, I want to shove food into her fucking face and down her fucking throat until she is so stuffed she will not move, ever again. I want to push her, hit her, kick her, kill her, make her bleed, make her eat. I want her to look at me and know that I have not tasted anything in the past month. I want her to look at me and know that I have not written anything in the past month. I want her to look at me and know that I have not loved anything in the past month. I want to do all of these things, and yet, the thing I want least is to break her.

I hold a porcelain doll so close to my heart that the two have become intertwinably fragile. I am wilting into a thousand pieces of porcelain.

preface

I am going to go do
something that scares me

my knees are shaky
and I keep whispering to myself
'alaska said I could do it'
and maybe eleanor roosevelt

the world makes me nervous
and my world is 15 buildings
and the pavement that leads
to winning coffee

my bones are shaking
I should go pee

summary

she told me to be like the Centurion
and pray:
'help me in my unbelief'

I don't believe I can look you in the eyes
and that is the truth

will you put your fingertips
over my eyelids when the
room gets dark
and we eat popcorn
will you do it softly

this is called extreme temperance
watch me do it with this needle
or this very soft blanket
on John Lennon's birthday

<:& is the emoticon that defines me, I feel.

I went to the smoking area 15 times today
to see if you were there
one time you were

no, sometimes it does hurt to ask.

Today I was struck soundly by a medical student trying to save a dying moth. It was seizing and he kept saying: "if I were smart enough, I could save it."

a medium to large sized pile of woodshaving stands where the bike rack was yesterday and I think only of the greatness of this hangover

I am having a nervous breakdown lately
pretty sure about that
it is very quiet and secret
but I know everything in my head
and I am so self-aware that it physically
hurts and I am trying to recover
but really pushing myself further
in and it is hard so I use drugs
recreationally and for salvation purposes
I need human heat
and it is so obvious, guys
and there are happy Mexican people everywhere
I feel like the only sad person here
can you tell that I am
the ducks are even running away now
with the cold wind of the afternoons
and I am alone, again

I prayed in the grass last night for 20 minutes and then thought repeatedly: "I don't even believe in God."

'these dorms look the most like prisons
it was voted on somewhere
it has official merit that your word does not
you fucking fuck'

I just hit my plastic shark against an open drawer
with such sad rage, like a satanic latin american film
with ghosts
then I hit myself on the head briefly

I am obsessed with ghosts because I am
writing a book about ghosts
I am self absorbed to the max, yo
I cried in front of my mirror last night

you are only allowed to do that once a year
I put my hand to the mirror and cried
and hated myself and it was resonating
in the dormitory hallway that looks like

prison.

a paragraph from 'ok, ghost', some other things

They leave and the nurse gives me my clothes and throws a vomit-stained gown into a biohazard bag and I cannot help my grin. There’s a giant mirror and I convince myself the cop is watching me. Staring at the mirror intently, like a small bird, I rotate my head from side to side then go out of the room. I am missing a sock. In the pocket of these three-weeks-unwashed jeans that hang from my hips there are four wrinkled bills and with them I get a styrofoam cup filled with blackish, burnt water. There is a fake leather chair and I sit in for 7-8 minutes and look up when the cop person makes sound walking down the hall. He looks at me. His name tag says: Lt. Kendall Martinez. I look at his eyes and they are a boring color. This man has nothing to offer.


today I got a bad grade on a 10 page film analysis in a film class. I got a 1.5/5 and kind of feel like dropping out of college and possibly working in a gas station for maybe a few months and then possibly moving somewhere like Canada.

I listened to Led Zeppelin earlier for a long time and thought of my childhood and then listened to Tracy Chapman and thought of my father telling me about the world when my hair was so long that it repeatedly whipped the small of my back when I ran on the soccer field.

I will not drop out of college for another year at least.

I am making a playlist about my ex-girlfriend because I made contact with her when I was on drugs and feeling lonely and now she is something that again drifts into my head.

All of the songs are acoustic.

I feel like each emotion I am feeling is pulling my heart to a different area of my body and that my heart has the consistency of gum that has been chewed for thirty minutes and will snap soon.
But my heart will not snap.

I feel apologetic for using the internet to talk about myself in a format that is not a poem. Why do I feel that way. The internet is a black hole we are all screaming our names and feelings into and we cannot even hold anyone's hand while our fingers type.

Dale wanted to hold me today and I felt a familiar feeling of shame about my sexuality.