introduction to dismissal

cutting off: the emotional
cutting off: the physical

cutting off: my skin (to the bone) so it doesn't yearn for your touch
cutting off: my memory so it doesn't remind me of what I have given up

cutting myself off limb by limb to dull the of pain of what I am doing to you

gray is the most important issue; a rainy day. that's when thunders clap. what are our hands; fools, of the audience? does lightning climb or does it "ha!ha! houdini,..."

s
au
nte
rdow
nthis
stair

[quoth Bugs, "watch out for that last step; it's a doozy!"],

proud to be, itself, pure light and free from the shackles of tyranny (king of nothing at all). gray are the most important issue, and yet peeled from the sole of our shoe like two-ply angels, short a better half. by the way, i miss you. do you remember what i said about treating me like shit? well, it's true. "i'll stop the world and melt with you." the implications aregratis.

i am not bored with wright or rong, and see more clearly than a concept... but right isn't white and wrong is not black.

give me your grief (and i will absorb it)
give me your solitude (and i will hold its hand)
give me your hurt (and i will swallow it)
give me your resentment (and i will embrace it)

i will carry them, carry them all, as i have always done

even now. especially now
despite my failure
i just want you to be well

we're strewn amongst the devastation,
pulling our fingers back, away from our
palms, tugging at humanity, ignoring the
inevitable: there are strangers at the
door.

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Excerpt #4
Has been said before to someone: to you must be said (re: us):
although once – yes yes only once – this spit this spat (this this this that) crept steadily in on me – well at least someone – w/certain letters&stmts from a length (&longings) ago uncertain to you (who are you again) of a huffing of a sending & receiving of shoves & tuggs (no s & uh-huh s) in that die/rection (o)f a justice of a liberty of a layer: a sweatyprayer&goodnight –
to go on w/that: my story of (re: us)

: only legends can stack so much skin against such a mtn

this in will go indeed I intend – for lost indeed never was I not (knot maybe – still aware stuck&swollen tied closed (my bundleweed heart – crankedunallowed)) & fiddledwith this heart this nothing (nomore) (for exist it does not) – see femme the sun the shun the gun the run all were set to blow irreversibly at the same time now ashes now singes now boils now swells I smell from the long lost center piece ofmeofyou - yes trudge trudge though the twenty somethings like I did stifled & stiff dead & adrift but alas and alas still trapped we are like two bees in a paper cup banging the outer-soft edge of a sadintimate neighborhood

I am not alone. no, not alone. but I have to admit that there is a certain frequency that I am unreachable at: my grand mother sent me a birthday card. it was from her and "Al". I don't know Al and I don't know her. This is what I know of her:

1)my grandfather and she got divorced before I was born.
2)she is with Al
3)each year, on my birthday which she does remember (I will give her that), she sends me a card that is about as personal as peanut butter
4)one year, for Christmas, she sent me and my brother matching sigfried and roy tee-shirts two sizes too small

I don't even know her name. My father would have things different, but in truth, no one really wants anything to change or else things would be different. Things are as they are and are likely to stay the way they are. Deep inside me I wonder if this lady I would have to call my grandmother would be a decent person to know, to talk with knowing that she is my final grandmother. But I think that things will not change. She seems content in sending me a generic birthday card and I open it before throwing it out.

i don't need to speak to most about the shakes yes and a cigarette needed to remain still or other displays

As fall descends, my spirit retreats into the bushes, further and further into the forest.

Loosing myself in such a way makes tears seem irrelevant, therefore, I don’t cry.

Dreary weather works its effect upon my affect. As the days shorten my desire to over-eat, add lean layers of fat to my body, is coupled with my desire to hibernate.

I conspire to commit two deadly sins: gluttony and sloth

Seasonal affective disorder, major depressive disorder, bi-polar disorder, etc.—does giving them such names make my demons go away? Will they pull their devil claws from my soul and let me live?

I am understanding that I can’t look for the meaning of life by searching, working for happiness. It is digging a hole to fill a hole. It is in pain and sadness that life’s meaning finds its most paternal roots. I must become more comfortable with holes.

I seek enlightenment from great minds, from my cat’s movements, from the frost that cakes my window sill. The Buddha says that the first precept of life is pain. Is this why the harder I try to wake the further from the light I seem to be?

Christ knew the pain of the crucifix. For some reason this makes me more comfortable with my pain and sadness. Yet, nothing pacifies my mind. So I’ll pump my pills and wait for another day to try to be happy.

4am driving
street lights lead to darkness and back again
beautiful boys chain together Sleeping Pills and Pantomime Horses
heart in mouth, and excitement in the passenger seat
i rub my eyes, tired
tired, but it's not sleep that i need
i make friends with the red lights
but they know
we part company
i smell you inside me
endless smiles underline the beauty of my foolishness
kill the engine
roll
glide through neighbourhood dogs and village idiots
moonlight fills my lungs
humidity hides me from the keenest eye
i open your envelope
and climb through
inserting myself in a room filled with your breaths
i take you inside one dream at a time
your sleep paints the sky
and all i can do
is reach
to
touch

paused within an ever-still day, gifted with aches of head and spine; summer drenched thought-chains. you were the first/why? stagnant hallway filled with queer scents, children and perversion. water fountains and a stick of blue on the floor. the sunlight tastes of laundry detergent. he was there too/to?/did he already know/but why? we had been scorched through and through and wilted with thirst. so many times after, the thirst returned but it was never the same; as most things.