Tag: the struggle

rush hour

fighting my way
through the crowd at Grand Central
I see how very many people
there are in the world. you have to
know exactly where you’re going
and be determined to brook
no delays, to make it
when there are so many other
salmon swimming against
the current.

it’s like that with love, I think.
there are a million girls out there
who are prettier
than me. there are a million boys out there
who could keep me company,
if I wanted any. but there’s no one
exactly like me, and no one
exactly like you. does it
really matter? my love will be
all-consuming or it will be
bullshit. life’s too short
for half measures.

Ouija

get out
the board. we’re going to
summon up some
spirits. since I have to live
with you teeming myriads,
you ghostly throngs, you
entities that can never be
laid to rest, I suppose I’d better
buckle down and learn
your names. that way
when someone fucks up
and does something stupid,
ill-advised, or totally
unwarranted, I’ll know who’s
to blame.

telepathy

“what are you thinking?” my mother
used to ask me, whenever
we were alone and I was quiet
for more than ten minutes. I can
never remember now what I
actually was thinking, because
as soon as she said it, my mind
always went blank, wiped clean
like a blackboard, like a kill switch
on a computer, erasing all
the data instantly, just
so I could say “nothing”
and have it be true
in that moment, so that
part of me could believe it,
because that’s the only way
people with glass faces
can tell lies.

Continue reading telepathy

the battle

almost every day I fight this
pitched battle
inside my head. one part
of me says I’m worthless
I’m dying
fuck my life
kill me now
why bother to get out of bed
no one will ever love me anyway
what is there to live for

and another part yells at the first part
for being lazy and useless and privileged
and a garbage human
and still another part says hey, what if
we pretended to act like a person
who doesn’t hate herself today?
what would this mythical creature do?

and so the eternal war
between my selves goes on,
and sometimes one part says
he didn’t write back, he must hate you,
what’d you do this time, you idiot
and most of the other parts tend
to want to believe whatever narrative
makes me feel the worst
about myself at any given time
and so you see, I’m hardly ever really fighting
with you. sometimes you get caught
in the crossfire between my selves,
that’s all.

spanner

when things seem to be
looking up, that’s when I become
intensely fearful. it can’t last, it’s too good
to be true, when’s the other shoe
going to drop? the wheels
are turning so smoothly
right now, the gears are going
like gangbusters and it’s too
scary and I can’t bear
the suspense and so
I feel compelled to stick
a spanner in the works.
this tactic has backfired on me
a million times and yet, I still
do it. it’s the waiting
I can’t stand. the not knowing
just how my world is going
to crumble, from whence the blow
is going to come.

I put an end to the uncertainty
of waiting for life to fuck me
over, by breaking it myself first.

Zodiac

I’m sorry that I’m the way
I am. I tend to get a feeling
of free-floating anxiety, like
something is horribly
wrong, but I don’t know what,
so then I try to find the ways
that I fucked up, the things I did
wrong, the reasons and the proof
that someone hates me.

I think part of it
is that I assume
that everyone will hate me
eventually, that I’m an awful
person who drives everyone away
so it’s just a matter of time
until it happens with you. I’m
probably conditioned by
having parents who lied
and said everything was fine
when it clearly wasn’t
and then got divorced.

now
I take all the little things
that by themselves are meaningless
and may well have nothing to do
with me, but in my mind
they add up to being
a big bad picture,
like detectives in a movie
when they’re trying to catch
a serial killer, like the Zodiac
or whatever, and then I assume
and make an ass out of u and me,
but mostly me. so anyway I’m sorry,
and it will probably happen
again.

wish granted?

I don’t get it. I
thought that this
is what you wanted:
for me to stop
pestering you
with my unwanted
affections.

yet now that I’m
over you, you’re sulking
like a little boy from whom candy
was taken away, candy
that he claimed he
didn’t want to begin with.

dude. make up your mind,
already. do you even know
how hard it was
to make myself stop
being in love with you?
it took everything I had.
if you don’t mean it, don’t
tease me. I’m not your
weathervane. don’t blow
in my direction and expect me
to twist. been there, done that,
made me miserable.