fragments.

sometimes i wonder how many people go to places alone in hopes that a stranger would come up and...

Wed, 30 May 2012 17:53:48 -0400

sometimes i wonder how many people go to places alone in hopes that a stranger would come up and talk to them. i wonder how many people just really need someone to be their friend.

last night we were sitting next to each other knees touching crammed in the back seat of our friends...

Wed, 11 Apr 2012 16:42:50 -0400

last night

we were sitting

next to each other

knees touching

crammed

in the back seat

of our friends car

riding home

an hour long drive

in the dark

in the night

and we were talking

softly

about all sorts of things

and sometimes

i would turn

to look at your profile

and try to memorize

the lines of your face

and sometimes

i would look at your hands

and sometimes

i would stare out the window

and watch the yellow lines

on the road

change

and stretch

and disappear

and the whole time

i was thinking

about how effortless things are

you just make it so easy

for me to like you

a whole lot

and for a second

i noticed the sparks

and for a second

it felt electric

daylight is my companion. I only get lonesome at night.

Sun, 18 Mar 2012 11:35:55 -0400

daylight is my companion.
I only get lonesome at night.

sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night in the middle of the morning so late, so...

Sun, 18 Mar 2012 10:03:08 -0400

sometimes
you wake up
in the middle of the night
in the middle of the morning
so late, so early
sometimes you wake up
because of a bad dream,
a nightmare that startles you out of sleep.
sometimes you wake up
because of a noise;
something unusual
breaking the silence of the night.
sometimes you wake up
from heartbreak;
too sad to sleep.
sometimes you wake up
from pain;
pain that not even sleep can sooth.
but sometimes
you wake up
for no reason.
and you can’t go back to sleep.
but for some reason you’re filled with peace,
and comfort,
and silence,
and simplicity.
and you don’t worry
about how tired you’ll be the next day.
you turn on your lamp and read a book.
you write,
you draw,
you paint.
you get to watch the sunrise that you so often miss,
that you so often take for granted.
sometimes you wake up
and remember that you’re alive.

sometimes i wonder what it would be like to be in somebody else’s skin. physically, literally,...

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 15:51:59 -0400

sometimes i wonder what it would be like to be in somebody else’s skin. physically, literally, not metaphorically. i wonder what it would be like to have an entirely different body and a different face and what it would feel like to go through life like that. it’s just so strange that we can only know what life feels like from inside our bodies. it’s impossible to know anything different.

i’m only scared of irreversible things like going deaf losing eyesight natural disasters house...

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 22:15:26 -0400

i’m only scared

of irreversible things

like going deaf

losing eyesight

natural disasters

house fires

death

i’ve been noticing the little things like the way you look when you’re thinking the...

Sun, 11 Mar 2012 04:47:03 -0400

i’ve been noticing the little things

like the way you look when you’re thinking

the expression you make

when you’re talking about something

you’re passionate about

and knowing

what you’re passionate about

and the way you keep conversations going

the way you bring up things i’m interested in

just to hear my thoughts

the way you laugh

when something’s funny

or when you’re just supposed to laugh

i like you

i want to know how dark you like your toast and how you like your coffee.

Wed, 07 Mar 2012 02:31:00 -0500

i want to know how dark you like your toast

and

how you like your coffee.

it was colder this time than it was the last. i guess it was a little less than a year ago,...

Tue, 06 Mar 2012 02:08:00 -0500

it was colder this time than it was the last. i guess it was a little less than a year ago, somewhere around the beginning of april, rather than the beginning of march. you come into my life at the strangest times. a year ago you were a substitute for something, someone, who initially i had been using as a distraction from you. that’s the funny part, i guess. i remember how i felt so comfortable around you. you were like my confidence, my support. because you mad me laugh so easily, and you let me talk when i needed to, and you talked when i didn’t. i was so confused and conflicted and upset that night. i was dizzy, really dizzy. and i guess my fragile heart was a tiny bit broken. i didn’t want to go home, remember? so you drove around in circles. you took the longest way possible. and then we stopped and got icees. it was late and i was acting so strange but you made me happy. you parked your car right down the street from my house so that i didn’t have to go home yet. you just parked and we drank our icees and our lips turned red or blue or whatever color they were and our teeth chattered and we shivered a bit i guess, because after all, it was only april. there was some music playing in the background, i’m sure. probably modest mouse. probably the one song by them that i love and you don’t love. i don’t remember, though. the music was just background noise. you were a good friend and we talked and talked and talked and didn’t agree on everything but we didn’t need to. you always messed up my hair like i was a little kid. you show affection in the funniest ways. i thought about kissing you. you were with her and i was with him but we both knew that we should have been with each other. everybody knew. but we weren’t. and i don’t know what happened but somehow a year went by and there we were again tonight. so much honesty. more than i even knew existed. we talked and talked and talked, because it’s so easy for us. you parked down the street from my house so that i didn’t have to go in yet. my neighbor came out with his flashlight and i got worried about what he would think of me. we were only talking, though. you told me i shouldn’t worry so much what people think. we talked and talked. but it was different. i played your least favorite modest mouse song again, and i sang along to every word. you put up with it because you know i love it. i played some of the prettiest songs i know. i think you liked them. you asked me a lot of questions. questions i haven’t really been asked before. and when i answered with “i don’t know,” you thought up some answers for me. you said that there are things that make me uncomfortable and there are things that scare me and that they hold me back and hinder me and stop me from experiencing everything that i need to experience. i don’t know if all of that is true. i don’t know. maybe i’m scared. but maybe i don’t need to experience the same things that you do. i don’t know. i got pensive and quiet, my knees clutched to my chest. i was cold, i was confused. i didn’t know what to say. you had your head leaned back in your seat, you were facing me, you were close to me. i was looking away, you were looking at me. you were looking at me. and you asked me what i was thinking about and i said i didn’t know. i couldn’t look at you but i liked that you were looking at me. so closely. i wish i knew what you were thinking. my heart was beating really fast. it was hard to process what you said, and i didn’t know what to think and i didn’t know what to feel, really. i thought about kissing you. you picked up my camera and you didn’t really know how to use it and you took a couple of dark and blurry photos of the clock and my face and the streetlights. i don’t think you’ll know what those photos mean to me. i played another pretty song and you talked about the progressions and the transitions and i just sat there, staring ahead, still clutching my knees to my chest. you had to go and i had to go and so you turned your car on and drove me the few feet it took to get to my house and you had to get out of the car to let me out because your passenger side door is broken. so we stood outside of your car for a minute, under the yellow glowing streetlights and i sort of mumbled and you talked about our plans for wednesday and something about a watch and then you hugged me so tight, for so long and i still didn’t look at you. i thought about kissing you and we said goodbye and made some joke and i walked inside and someday i’m just going to kiss you to prove that i’m not scared of everything.

sometimes i find a lot of joy in not having any idea who the heck i am.

Tue, 28 Feb 2012 20:08:38 -0500

sometimes i find a lot of joy in not having any idea who the heck i am.

sometimes i imagine myself in a little glass box, just big enough for my body. i think of it as...

Tue, 28 Feb 2012 19:33:00 -0500

sometimes i imagine myself in a little glass box, just big enough for my body. i think of it as something they would have put snow white in, or sleeping beauty. i imagine myself lying there. comfortable, not claustrophobic. and rain falling falling falling down, pitter-pattering on the glass as it falls. and i just lay there, watching it. watching it or sleeping. calm. quiet. thinking of nothing. just waiting for something. people walk by and see me, and it doesn’t matter. i just lay there, rain falling on me, but never touching me. calm. quiet.

pieces. you left pieces of yourself behind. i find them in my jacket, the one i was wearing when you...

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 00:28:59 -0500

pieces.

you left pieces of yourself behind.

i find them in my jacket,

the one i was wearing when you kissed me last.

i find them in my guitar strings,

the ones you plucked so softly for me.

i find them in my records,

in my paintings,

in my favorite drink.

pieces of you,

scattered about

all of my favorite things.

all i have are shards of you,

broken parts you flung around.

you exist in my life as a memory,

as an experience,

as a mistake.

i just wish you hadn’t left

all your pieces

behind.

everybody i’ve ever come in contact with has a tiny piece of my heart and some people make...

Mon, 27 Feb 2012 00:22:23 -0500

everybody i’ve ever come in contact with

has a tiny piece

of my heart

and

some people

make their piece

swell up with joy

and some people

break their piece

into more more more

tiny pieces

and nobody even knows

what they’re doing

to me

nobody even knows

that they’re holding

little bits of me

all the time

whether they asked for them

or not

the other night, a man came into the restaurant that i work at. he’s a little old man, and he...

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 03:36:39 -0500

the other night, a man came into the restaurant that i work at. he’s a little old man, and he comes in fairly frequently. frequently to the point where he’s considered a regular, and all the waitresses know who he is. he generally comes in by himself, and he almost always orders the “kearney street salad.” he rarely ever gets dessert, which is unusual because we’re known for our cakes. but he just loves his salad. every time he orders it he lists off all of the things he loves about this one salad. he knows every detail by heart, and can’t help himself from expressing the affection he has for it. the last time he came in, he had a woman with him. he referred to her as his girlfriend, and it’s clear that they must be a new couple because he hadn’t ever brought her in before. naturally, they don’t order any dessert, just two kearney street salads. after their meal, when they got up to leave, the woman said “that was a fantastic salad. i just loved it.” it melted my heart.

i guess there’s someone out there for everyone.

cars are little boxes of secrets and intimacy with walls made of windows so everyone can see....

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 18:28:33 -0500

cars are little boxes of secrets and intimacy with walls made of windows so everyone can see. they’re like a mobile display case for private conversation and personal lives.

i fall in love with phrases. win me with your words.

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 00:12:46 -0500

i fall in love with phrases.

win me with your words.

our roots are different. take me by the hand and take me back to where you came from. walk me up and...

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 19:18:21 -0500

our roots are different. take me by the hand and take me back to where you came from. walk me up and down the streets you walked when you were just a little boy, when all the world was new. tell me where you crashed your bike, show me where you skinned your knees. let me see, let me feel the earth that raised you. tell me stories so vivid i can’t help but think i was there. walk me to the place where you had your first kiss, awkward and nervous and young. lead me to the park bench that you sat at alone when your friends had all disappeared. lay with me in the middle of the field where you used to play games until the street lights came on and you had to go home. take me up the trees you used to climb, let me breathe the air you were born into. show me how you came to be who you are. and i will take you down the sidewalks that i walked down with people who broke my heart. i will teach you how to make daisy chains in the grass at my old elementary school. i will tell you all the stories of the bike rides, walks to the little store a few blocks away; the adventures i went on as a quiet, red-headed child. i’ll swing with you in my backyard, and draw pictures of you with chalk on the street i was raised on. i’ll show you the mailbox that i so excitedly checked for so many years, rarely receiving any letters for myself. i’ll point out the houses of people who meant something to me, and tell you the stories of how we parted ways. i’ll show you every sidestreet, every pathway, every shortcut. i’ll teach you all about me, you teach me all about you.

where would you be without ever being where you’ve been?

Thu, 02 Feb 2012 19:10:11 -0500

where would you be without ever being where you’ve been?

it started with the bathroom decorations. the shower curtains. the rugs. the soap dispenser. all...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 16:01:17 -0500

it started with the bathroom decorations.

the shower curtains.

the rugs.

the soap dispenser.

all matching with little dogs and cats all over them.

one of those sets from target or something.

i wanted my bathroom to look just the same.

then it was the bike rides.

the ones we would take with your dad.

the walks we would go on with your mom and your dogs.

next it was board games.

life, sequence, etc.

i asked for them for christmas because i wanted my family to play them, too.

i guess i realize that i wanted all those things because i wanted a whole family.

a happy, put together family,

just like yours.

but now your parents are divorced.

your dad lives somewhere else and he misses you.

your dogs are dead and your board games are dusty.

your bathroom is re-done and your furniture is new.

your mom is alone.

your dad is alone.

i always wanted my family to be just like your perfect family.

but the thing that i learned is, i guess,

nobody’s family is perfect.

you’re a filler. you’re a substitute. you’re temporary, and less than...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 15:30:33 -0500

you’re a filler.

you’re a substitute.

you’re temporary,

and less than ideal.

you’re like splenda.

you’re sweet,

but you’re not real sugar.

you’re not the real thing.

you taste okay,

you get the job done,

but you’re not

what i want to taste

forever.

because,

though you’re tricky,

i still crave the real thing.

i crave the sweetness

that only

real sugar

can bring.

it’s like i’m stuck

in a room full of diabetics.

a place where they only stock the shelves

with splenda.

they can’t have real sugar.

and though i can,

it’s out of reach

and unattainable.

so there you are.

my sugar substitute.

i like you,

but i want something more.

i like you,

but i don’t like you most.

you’re splenda,

and i want sugar.

but life is so bitter

when i don’t have either.