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Category Archives: Poems

She needs a fix, she’s going to the bits that she left uptown; maybe she left them downtown, she’s not sure.

But she knows she needs a fix.

Maybe her fix is someone to talk to, but her usual someones haven’t been around.

She really needs a fix.

Work sometimes helps. But she’s got no work to do, because no one has a job for her.

She would really like a fix.

Maybe a drink could be a fix, but she won’t risk that idea because that way lies potential trouble.

Goddammit, she wants a fix.

Maybe typing it out is a fix. Is she fixed?

Why can’t she get a fix?

Sing in the rain
It never rains properly anymore
It doesn’t pour out its everlasting soul into the dark beautiful earth
It just kind of spills a little water
You can’t roll up your jeans and take off your shoes and socks and dance around in a foot of water crying “GOD SAID TO NOA THERE’S GOING TO BE A FLOODY FLOODY”
Because the water’s not deep enough
How the sky won’t cry
You’d think it would at least sympathize with our plight
Cry over our self-damnation
But I suppose it’s gotten over us
After we’ve spit all that nasty stuff into it, I guess it realized that we’re abusive
It decided it wouldn’t shed any more tears over us
Maybe a couple here and there
For those of us who try to help it
I suppose it’s kind of mean to miss a demonstration of another’s pain
But I do
I want the sky to weep all over me
Even though I’ve never run nude in the fresh drops, I liked the fact that I had the option if I wanted to
Sometimes I feel like doing backflips
Even though I can’t
I can imagine doing backflips nude in the rain
Even if it never happens
I want it to be possible
It’s like the woman hoping that you can do it, even if her opportunity has gone by
Just knowing that it can be done is comforting
Not to the sky of course
Because it knows we want it to cry
Maybe we didn’t break its heart at all
Maybe it loved the sun
And the sun doesn’t go away because it’s raining
It rains because the sun goes away
Maybe it couldn’t take all the uncertainty
Of having the sun be there during the day
But having to spend those long nights alone
Maybe the sun would be offended by the ozone layer
Seeing the sky trying to use protection against it
It resents the barrier
Maybe they just couldn’t work it out
So they decided to be friends
And that’s why the sky doesn’t bother to cry anymore
It can be friends with the sun
And if the sun doesn’t show, that’s okay
It can just fog up
But where does that leave us?

mmmm… chocolate is delicious. So are you. I woke up this morning and realized that you weren’t next to me, even though that would have been the perfect ending for last night. Since I didn’t have you, I had some chocolate. I was so relaxed and leisurely this morning. I floated through the kitchen, eating my chocolate, trying to figure out how to grind coffee, thinking about how much better you are than any daily grind. Thinking about how glorious mornings are. I hate mornings. Except when they’re glorious. This morning was delicious. I licked the chocolate off my fingers and even though I know I’d washed my hands a couple times since I’d seen you, they still tasted like you. I was too contentedly lethargic to be properly excited, but I just felt so warm and sparkly somehow, even though I washed all of the sparkles off last night. Can a person really feel sparkly? I think so. I think it’s like swinging on a star. I want some moonbeams. Maybe I’ll cover them in chocolate and feed them to you. I’ll store them in a jar and we’ll call them choco-beams. And they will give you the most delectable sparkly feeling. And I’ll smile at your sparkling. I’ll dance around with the jar, singing all those songs with “moon” in the title: “Moonriver” “Moon Dance” “Paper Moon”… and I’ll tell you that it’s not make believe if you believe in me. Except that I’m too wasted to dance around. Maybe I’ll just get some gnomes to be my slaves. Capture my moonbeams and such. They can melt the chocolate and dip the moonbeams in and then bring them to me. And they can carry me on a chair over to you, and then I will feed you choco-beams. In fact, if I had gnome slaves, we could make it a business: Sallacity’s Choco-beam Experience. Except it’s not really right to enslave gnomes. Even if I gave them good working conditions, it would still be enslavement. Of course, live gnomes don’t actually exist. Is it more or less immoral to enslave something that doesn’t exist? As opposed to things that do exist of course. I’m not sure. Maybe even nonexistant entities have the right to freedom. Gnomes are really cute though. Maybe I’ll have a gnome anyway. Maybe my gnomes will unionize so I can give them fair wages in my choco-beam enterprise. Maybe they will know already how to capture moonbeams, since I sure don’t. Maybe I should just stick with you. You are delicious enough for me, even if you are not sparkly and not covered in chocolate. I don’t really miss you yet. I’m still so happy to have soaked up so much of your time. I’ll miss you when this delightful exhaustion wears off. But right now, I just want to feed you moonbeams. And they will be delicious.

It’s all just so so so much. God I wish… well, we wish for so many things, don’t we? Such toys of fortune are we, spinning through the skies at a rate both infinitely sluggish and yet faster than we tiny mortals can handle. I wish I had you though. I wish I could give you something better than me, something better than this shipwreck at the floor of the sea. Oh let me go on wishing, find a penny at the bottom of the well, perhaps visit the sea, toss it off the cliff as the song swells. Stealing wishes from one side, use them on the other, what is it except for one person selling another? Do we really have something, at the end of the day? What are we doing? Do we drive everyone away? Should we really consider the implications of our actions, or do they have none because of the equal and opposite reactions? Maybe we hope for the best, but the best ain’t having none. Maybe we’re still fighting, hurling ourselves into the fray, unaware that the battle’s already won. Maybe we delude ourselves into thinking that as long as we haven’t beaten our enemies, the war isn’t over. Maybe they sit there laughing at our folly, watching us wear ourselves out fruitlessly attacking nothing. They’ve won, because we will spend ourselves attacking their decoys for the rest of eternity. They already went back to fairyland, back to the place where they live in peace and harmony and laugh at our hopeless raging. Oh we are the forsaken. Who abandoned us, we don’t know, but good Lord we miss them. I miss you. Come back for me please my darling. I know that I’m bitter once you lick off the shiny candy coating, but I do so want you to enjoy it. I really hope you do, because if you don’t, you’ll have licked off all my candy coating and I’ll be naked and bitter and someone else will have to like that and I’m not sure I trust someone who does. Perhaps trust is the issue. Perhaps we should trust ourselves. How can we when all we see is lollipops and giant tangerines? Perhaps they aren’t there, but perhaps we are better off because we see them. Am I high? Maybe I should be. I think I’m not. Not high on anything fun at any rate. Perhaps I’m high on grief. Or life. Is life grief? Peony was happy because she thought so. Flowers are such joyous things that we suck the life right out of. We cut them because they’re pretty and they die because we cut them. They die even if we don’t cut them, but so do we and we’re pretty upset when someone cuts us. Is that right? Are people truly that different than flowers? Then why did you name your daughter Rose or Lily? Should they be cut off while they’re still pretty just because their lives are temporary anyway? I don’t know. I think I don’t really know anything. I think knowledge is something that flits through you and it leaves dregs like tea but the part you really want, the yummy water with the anti-oxidants, I think you piss it away. I think all we know is the crap part of what we want to know. Maybe I fail. Maybe I don’t know what it is to succeed. But how can I know what it is to fail when I don’t know what it is to succeed? Maybe it already passed through my mind, like the tea. Maybe I need to stay off the shrooms which I haven’t taken. Maybe I really need to talk to someone. Someone I love. Someone who doesn’t think I’m bloody crazy. Which clearly rules out me and anyone who read this. Oh well.

You didn’t know her well
But she was so sweet
And God knows she was nicer than you
And now she’s gone
All things come to an end
But yet you never see it coming
Gets you before you think it will
Faces fly before your eyes
Floating to the never-ending skies
And the smiles live up there
But down here, it’s as if they were never
Except that it isn’t
You know it isn’t
So many things she’ll never know
You can’t ask why
You’ll never get an answer
You can ask what next
But that takes a lifetime to answer
She knows where she’s going
At least
I hope she does

Maybe she wants something
Even if they don’t think so
Work is its own reward
Except when it isn’t
They’ve given up
They yell at her for not living up to her potential
But she gets nothing NOTHING NOTHING when she does
She tries and tries to help herself
But it doesn’t work
The enormity of oblivion
Swallows her whole
Like rainwater into a gutter
Following the dark
Following it forever
Maybe there is sunlight at the end
In the great ocean where the pipes lead
But the water in the ocean is salty
And undrinkable
Despite is shining beauty
She floats on the current
Out to sea
Hoping it will take her somewhere better than she has left
Maybe they will appreciate her
Wherever she is going
A girl can dream such lovely things

Poem 14
Lady Napoleon
Short of stature
But large in power
As she picks them up
And tosses them away
She smiles at me
It’s a bright smile
The one she gives people
When she’s happy
Which is most of the time
But the smile vanishes
And she leads the charge of one
Slaughters them quickly
But hordes of worshipful fanatics
Cheer at her heels
And that gorgeous smile returns
They love her no matter what she does
Because they could die happy
Just because of her smile
It’s difficult to feel ill of her
Because that fabulous grin conquers all