Tuesday, November 22, 2016


it started with night sweats; he would wake up drenched, even when the room was set to sixty-two degrees. i don't know what he dreamt of, or if he dreamt at all, but i know that he'd toss and turn. one day, he woke up to the entire bed covered in sweat. he dressed that morning and never made it back. i heard that he'd jumped into a lake to cool himself down and no one could get him out. they tried shouting, crying, and threatening, but nothing worked. he found the lake filled what his insides had been missing.

Wednesday, November 2, 2016


there's a circle of events present. i find myself in this roundabout that i had no idea existed until the same scenario played out again. here i am, sitting in the very same table that i left four years ago. i am having supper alone and for very much the same reasons, until you arrive. hundreds of miles of difference and here we are. in the same table. the same meal and at nearly the same fucking time.

after a piercing silence i think, maybe i can get away from this once and for all... never look back. perhaps we can even get rid of supper altogether and never eat again. i can always find a different way to feed my soul with the inconvenience of our shared truth. but it's dark now and i'm outside, jumping into the cold water by myself. you would think we have grown accustomed and maybe even found some comfort in this. in recognizing the routine of having no one to keep me warm afterwards. i sink deeper and deeper into the water and still, you're inside. no amount of screaming or calling out will bring anyone or anything forward.

my heart begins to beat slower and slower after the jump. it has mellowed out to a single soft pulse barely recognizable to my own chest.
tell me, love, will the moon be witness yet again to another hopeless night? will she remain still as she watches the same blood spill again and again and again?

i look to her, find me floating, sweet moon.  do not let me overdose on this idealization of love. do not let me attempt my own ending to this tragedy.

i float through it all without drowning.
once i dry off i pretend it never happened and i go back to climbing up the same mountain. i find myself at the top again and my heart begins to race once more.

find me at the top and join me, i call out.

perhaps there will be more on the table this time around.
maybe the coincidence of it all is but a mere error in the loading of data onto this day.
perhaps the similar dance had left me all too cautious and conclusion-seeking.
perhaps the silence has been much shorter than i have made it out to be and all i need to do is try again.

perhaps i want nothing to do with change and i will recreate the same damn thing that has happened time and time and time and time again.

here i was.
here i am.
here i will be.

and  my mind and heart will be sealed off and my emotions will be so pleasantly delivered that when i set fire to your soul, you will have no idea where it came from. when i combust in your mind you will be too drunk with my name to realize what is happening. make no mistake that i have written the starting page and the last ones. i have numbered them all with red ink and have bookmarked the fall.

allow me to lead you into that room with the supper table, we both know how this ends.