Three new ones from the land of the Vikings.

on foot

i used to have pretty feet
and now they're gnarled
and summer colored
sandal tans and sidewalk dirt
and leather-like soles
from constant shoe abandonment
badly healed toe bones
and long chipped pink polish

i walked to get coffee and booze
cigarettes, food, and friends
to increase blood flow
and sober myself up
i walked morning-after hurt away
i ran for buses and from old flings
i tripped and i fell
and i stubbed every toe
i stumbled barefooted
and traveled perfectly in 4 inch heels
i was hunted and hunted
i was at the right and the wrong place
plenty of times

i walked the poison out
and i've got rib and hip bones
protruding thanks to it
but damned it the breaths
aren't coming easier

i could pack my bags and never come back
or i could throw my baggage out the window
and let these poor feet rest.


intention

i think this whole stumbling over our words bit can stop at any time.
it's been discussed and decided:
thing > fling.
and this most certainly was
and by all accounts still is
and may continue to be
A THING.
it's for a lack of better term or word
and certainly for a lack of certainty
and conviction.
the distance is measured in miles
and travel time
now.
it's everythign we ever took for granted
about each other
about said "thing"
rolled up into one big wrecking ball
a bird of prey, if you will,
though typically
you won't.
everything's the same though -
nothing's changed really.
save for my place of
residence -
where i'm calling "home"
this year,
for now.
but that alteration
that glitch in our pattern
that changes everything,
doesn't it?
unfamiliar words flying to
ears unaccostumed to
the admissions of the day -
a day, granted, seemingly
a week too late.
how many days were contained in that six month span?
how many breaths?
and what do you multiply that by to calculate the life-span of this new-found regret?
i am just as i was
right this second
as i was before this even started.
i remain the same human being
one to whom loyalty
is compulsary
and it's till there
beating away like
someone elses heart
jpumping blood to some place
or another.
and this is where the physical "there"
becomes a memory,
a facet in a long-winded story.
this is where we run into
late night calls
and a sudden bought of honesty.
where i become a commodity
my presence and self
coveted
beyond all previous belief.

but we've got our hands tied, don't we?
we've got steps
and hwole paths
to choose carefully.
sure we've got option and solutions
but not an ounce of confidence
in any of them.

so for now, the best conclusion we can come to
is that you've got some sitting
to do
some scenery to view
and some leg cramps to walk off
after five hours in a car.

i miss you,
i do.

welcome

and so this is God
and so this is home
so this is the ice age
we've all been praying for
so this is distance
so this is lonely
this looks a lot like
an empty inbox
a lot like words and hopes
all lost in flight
even before they got their wings.
so this is the rambling
you'll never hear
this is me knocking on wood
for too good to be true.
and so this is free
and this is lost
this is night-long
stomping across my ceiling.
this is the phone call
i'll never make
please listen carefully
please take down notes.
this here is what i'd say:
"hold onto that thought
and the reasoning behind it.
i don't want to steer you
or have any hand in this -
but YES
and please do."

and so this pen is all i've got left.

she asked me didn't i think i was a little old for, a little too mature for, a bit beyond this or that.
and i hated the way her mouth looked when she pronounced the letter "o". it was ugly and puckered and entirely unattractive. she was not an ugly woman. not what i'd call beautiful, but certainly not ugly.
but all it wanted to do was make her swallow her teeth. every word out of her mouth was another tooth i wanted to hit the back of her throat.
palaniuk has taught me that you can swallow a pint of your own blood before you puke. this is not something i have tested personally though i may in fact review that portion of my life in future and find out for myself.
i hate everyone who walks by me. crosses my path. interupts my thoughts. they're too friendly here. i'm used to milwaukee where we'll talk to just about anyone, but fuck if we'll trust you farther than we can kick you. everyone talks here. i talked for two blocks with an old man about the tourist opportunities in milwaukee, and honestly, the lack thereof.
i am in awe of the people i know and love.
i miss some people so deeply. i never thought i would or could like i am but here i am and there i'm not.
i've not got what i want.
my back and joints are achy and i've no reason to get out of my futon mattress (ain't got a bed) in the morning. but i do and i manage to be mildly productive and i tell myself that the day has been a success.
i told myself that i was going to stop smoking. then i told myself i was going to start rolling my own cigarettes. and then i bought the cheapest pack of cigarettes i could find. they cost me three dollars and fifty cents. they look awful, but camel's cost five dollars and i'm too much of a twitch to effectively roll my own and quitting at this point in my life and stresses is not an option.
addiction is not an option but i've got mine well timed and on a time line.
and the orange non-original contents of my water bottle are oddly orange and taste awful. but they don't need to taste good. they need to do their job and they are. doing their jobs that is.

my bed sheets are jersey. they feel like the biggest oldest t-shirt you've ever slept in. but covering your whole body.
they were my finest $20 investment.