The Precipice of a World - 5/1/12

It was our last day on earth and I wasn’t ready for what came next

I didn’t know how the world would end

And I didn’t ask

I waited for you to join me

I stared at the sky.

It was our last day on earth and you held my hand

“This is what they sang about

This is what they wrote”

You wrenched at my hand

You were trying to find that perfect grip

Your grip

My hands were made special for yours

Just large enough for you to settle in

And you tried

But my skin was tight and lined with sweat

And I didn’t recognize your touch.

It was our last day on earth but I couldn’t feel your hand

We stood at the precipice of a new world

“Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s new”

You were right.

It was our last day on earth and I couldn’t find you

I asked everyone I saw

They looked sullen at my words

Or perhaps solemn

I never could read people

I never had to read you

You were an illustration in a sea of text.

It was our last day on earth but it wasn’t ours

I’ve been waiting for your return for a very long time

But I don’t think you’re coming back

You once told me:

“Steel yourself, you never know what lies ahead”

You said:

“Baby, we’re driving a car with two steering wheels,

We’re going to break apart,

But we won’t know until we’re both skating on two wheels”

It is my last day on earth and I’d give anything to see you

I don’t know why you’re not here

But I miss you.

Bidder (rewrite) - 4/20/12

The people were hidden six feet down
The streets were packed with cars and trucks
The buildings cracked 
and crumbled in atonement

“What hell have we beckoned”
“Does anything remain”

The sky was bleak 
A violet haze clung 
unflinchingly, unseen
beyond the gloom of clouds
and the earth was scorched

The sun flared silently
Then turned its back upon them
Not even the cosmos would accept this civilization

“Never has the weight of the world seemed so light”
“Does anything remain”

The clouds fled in fear of end
And the sun was still not there
The air was still,
Our hair grew undisturbed

“How can I believe”
“Nothing remains”

We are still here
Nothing more remains
We will be swept aside
“Dear god, what hell have we beckoned”
“We have always taken more”
“We will always take more”

1/14/11

what the fuck do you believe in

the pursuit of - 12/12/10

I never knew what was behind those eyes
I thought there was something
But I was never sure
I couldn't tell if you were hiding from or for me
But it was so fucking strange that I couldn't figure you out
I knew and still know everything about everyone else
And of course I know everything about myself
But you.
We live this shit
This is our pursuit of

Mirrors - 6/21/10

I saw myself in the distance, in the end, and I didn’t know what to say.
I stood there, trying to think of something clever and witty, something to impress myself.
I moved closer to myself and I started breathing heavily.
I didn’t look like myself at all, I think I looked like them.
I reached out for my arm and wrote myself a note
: Steel yourself

Beggars (Part III)

I didn’t even know what was wrong with me anymore. I was well enough to see that this girl was not worth what I was doing to myself, but it seemed like I was just so wrapped in such a small thing that I just couldn’t get over it. Ironic. I think. What is irony? This is irony. If anything was ever ironic, it was this. Ironic.
Ironic. Ironic.

If you say a word enough it loses all meaning.

Meaning.

Meaning.

Meaning.

It’s lost all meaning.

“Jacob!”

Jacob.

Jacob.

Jacob.

I’ve lost all meaning.

“You left your backpack on the bus,” she spoke softly in between light breaths.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left your backpack on the bus.”

“So you came to give it to me?”

“That’s what people do for other people when they don’t hate everything.”

“I don’t hate everything.”

“What don’t you hate?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the girl of your dreams.”

She was the girl of my dreams.

“I brought your backpack.”

“Thanks.”

“What are you doing in the grass?”

“Who are you?”

The girl of my dreams.

“Is this your house?”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“You sat next to me on the bus.”

“I think you sat next to me on the bus, actually.”

“We have classes together.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“I just moved here.”

“You know my name?”

“Or I’m really good at guessing, huh?”

“I guess.”

“I brought your backpack.”

“Oh yeah?”

I opened my eyes. There was no light to fill them with intoxicating rays that would
make her glow and become my angel. I had no angel.

“People normally ask the other person’s name when they meet, you know.”

People.

People.

People.

“What’s your name?”

“Megan, thanks for asking.”

“Yeah.”

She sat down beside me, her knees tucked into her chest and her long brown skirt
flooded up to her shins. She was very pale. She was beautiful.

I closed my eyes.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

Beautiful.

I opened my eyes. The lighting was all different. I could see the infectious
spread of color darting from the setting sun across the sky. I must have nodded
off. My arm was heavy. I was comfortable though. I think she was sleeping on me.

I nodded off.

I opened my eyes. The lighting was all different. I could see the violet haze that
wrapped around the otherwise twinkling stars. A light soars through the sky,
further away than I could even grasp. I wondered how far into the past I was
staring. How long ago had that comet or star or extraterrestrial super-being shot
past our dying skies? My arm didn’t feel so heavy anymore. I didn’t feel so
comfortable anymore.

Beggars (Part II)

Soon enough the arguments set in. We failed to enjoy each other’s company, so I told her we were done, finished, no more. She cried, I cried, we cried, they cried, you cried, I cried. I was alone again, this was the way I liked it and there was nothing better. Being with her was better. I knew we wouldn’t work together, but it was just so difficult being apart, even though I couldn’t stand her, I needed her. I allowed myself to be enveloped in so many other things: music, art, poems, short stories, staying up late, and video games - anything I could do to seclude myself from the rest of the world. I was decaying inside my shell though, I couldn’t last. My parents were getting sick of me always being around, I’d lost the majority of my friends by not talking to them, and those who did stick around only agitated me with their constant focus on my isolation.

My eyes flew open, shooting stars and bright, flashing lights ran through, past and in my sight while screams, rumbling, and muffled all clogged my hearing while my head tapped against the window and the seat bounced up and down. The bus ride home.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked, obviously quieting herself, noticing I was uninterested in my surroundings and had dazed off in the brief forty seconds I’d been sitting down.

Flip back to part one, paragraph five.

“Yeah,” I said flatly.

“Yeah, you mind or yeah, sit down?”

“What?”

“Can I sit?”

“Please.”

She sat down, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you always so happy?”

“Lately.”

“What happened?”

“She did.”

“Typical.”

“Very.”

I pulled my thick headphones around my ears, making a point to ignore her presence.
She shook her head and let her attention lie elsewhere, making a point to ignore my presence.

I think I nodded off at that point. I nodded off a lot. Nodded off. I was free when I nodded off. I was new when I nodded off. Everything was right. Nodding off. Make everything right. Nod off. Make everything new and cloudy and bring me to the other side where the grass is greener. Nod off. Nod off. Nod off.

Nudge.

Nod off.

Nudge.

Keep nodding off.

Nudge.

Freedom is always out of reach.

Nudge.

“Would you quit it!”

Those wide eyes glimmered in the clouded light. “This is your stop.”

I looked past her, out the window on the opposite side of the yellow aluminum tube. I said nothing and squeezed between her and the brown covered seat ahead. I continued up the aisle and down the steps. I walked further up the hill and stopped outside the front of the house. It wasn’t home. It was the house. I fell limp into the grass and lie there, staring up at the sky. Not staring, seeing. Not at, through. I fell limp into the grass and lie there, seeing through sky. I saw everything. Not everything, nothing. I saw nothing. Nothing was there. People look to the sky for answers and I saw nothing. There was nothing left for me. Not even a sign in the sky. Past the sky. Not even a sign past the sky. Why was I not worth a sign? I needed a sign. I wanted a sign in the sky. I wanted my sign past the sky.