11.25.20

CIVIL.WARS
Goodnight, good-morning. Good day to disassociate.
someone asked me if it was “pleasant”.

Yes. Of course it’s pleasant.
Cumulative sleep deprivation gives you only knives to eat the world-oyster. Dissimulated and camouflaged, I’m a tourist in my body, a stranger in my mind. Witnessing myself on auto-pilot and realizing this aircraft features wit at no extra cost.

No, I’m not absent minded. In fact, it’s the presence of mind that makes me unaware of everything else. It’s the compartmentalization of somatic experiences, consciousness, and identity. That same compartmentalization that disallows me for taking credit for diplomacy.

See, when I turn the other cheek, it is because my tongue is tired of being held between my teeth. Air sign, sure, but a fixed sign none-the-less, and you squeezed all the air out of your lungs with the last of your drunk slurs.

You don’t get to come back from that bar. Fix yourself a drink about it.

Don’t forget I had a basinful of you. At your best, and your worst, I choose to remember both. So yeah, I resent your name on my calendar. These times have taught me the weight of impact measured in social interactions carry viral loads. I fill time slots with presence and purpose more and more.

Your unwillingness to see me outside of you, is both proof of your blindingly short self-awareness, and my penchant for believing a little too much. What use is it to bite my tongue instead of yours, after spending years talking to a sentient, self-righteous rock. Who’s the dummy in this one? The rock refusing to acknowledge the person? Or a person too dull to know rocks don’t have eyes, much less mouths or ears.

Don’t mistake this with hate. This is something…. closely resembling tolerance: a very lukewarm emotional stew of disgust, contempt, pity, and sympathy.

Tally that onto the list of things you’ll never know about me.

I will get coffee, I will smile, I will make you feel loved, missed, welcome. You will jiggle back home all pompous and priggish. I’ll come back to my secretes. The things you never read, or heard, or witnessed.

This isn’t about you.

This resentment isn’t even half about you. It’s resentment at doing things you don’t want to avoid awkward social faux-pas, it’s wanting to hold a lover among friends but knowing there’ll be scorn, it’s disillusionment, it’s apathy, it’s knowing my worth, my graces.

or maybe just sleep deprivation.

CIVIL.WARS

11.15.20
unintentionally
i’ve revealed a secrete
to them,
and me

how bodies only
meet hearts for the rare

today
im all chains and fingernail marks
dermis imprints fading over time

trying not to wallow in transient
attracted the passing kind
the type that
scratch the surface

9.5.20

CIVIL.WARS
i guess what i’ve been trying to say this whole time goes a little something like this:

i don’t believe the antidote to shame is honor, or pride for that matter.
when bathed in recognition – shame comes out sopping honesty

to hell with Gemini. The fucker left me empty handed anyway.
instead I carry the qualities sunlit by Aquarius and ascended by Aries
a left-leaning combination of water and air so fired up with a need for action, it often breaks before it bends.

to shine channels between the skull and the rib-cage i light the candle at both ends and hope wax crumbles are thick enough to pebble stone my way back to center.

there are days when the weight of duality eats at the people like me. people like me. the people burning fumes on borrowed fire. Those of us who know it’s better to die on your feet than spend your life on your knees. we’re the megaphones and echos of voices muffled, we’re shadow puppet wall turned mirror, the ones who carry the weight capitalism, greed, and selfishness discarded on the road.

i guess this is where the honesty comes in.

the price of living for humanity, is sometimes having to run from humanity. i may carry a spear, but my arms are too weak for shields. When the bough bends and the body breaks; i lick my wounds for days in books and poetry. i feed the heart-fish, and let my mind thunders quake the body asleep. sometimes for hours, sometimes days, or weeks.

i’m sorry. i know i should learn to crawl before i run. i’m sorry again, for not really being sorry the first time. or the second time for that matter but im a messy person. my person is messy i mean, i toss my person laundry under the rug of endurance, the closet of exhaustion, and sometimes in your face.

i will do this, over and over until i learn to take my lessons neatly folded.

maybe that day i’ll run for office.

CIVIL WARS

9.23.20
this one almost tucked herself under Muse blankets

im not sure what scares me more
to catch myself holding candles or
to feel like pupils will always get larger anyways

i guess it doesn’t matter,
The Star (XVII) – thinks not anyway
she likes to remind us that constellations exists even in Arizona summers.
like a sketch of sunspots from a start over sky
a zodiac trial easily lost, or won

life has a funny way of reminding you
it’s still living that way

and it wasn’t for lack of effort – i truly did cocoon
but Rams cut through those chrysalis
even the unconfessed ones
the “not now” and “maybes” and “if only’s” nympha
tried to put a pin in each excuse
because “not now” is easier than “im scared.”

CIVIL WARS

9.2.20
two hats and one head full of mercury
that’s what you get when you try the quick fever fix

she’s all culture and grace
mermaid cooing echos of today
the type that make you see from the back of your head
that skin colors me familiar
drips bits of bookmark in Cien Años De Soledad
that familiarity thinks it’s a Tiple
and my heart some type of Bambusco

Then there’s Mnemosyne
who lives in memory lane
too there to be here
“I feel like I’m just all mistakes” she’ll say
then draw your contour in insomnia

me?
well, I’m all a – muse
sleeping with titans
with panties in a bunch and cultural aftershock

CIVIL WARS

1.29.29
smoking guns point less and less towards two lovers
when its me with the barrel to myself
trigger happy –
don’t worry, i can’t predict me either

this isnt about you
this has never been about you
dont ever say i didnt gave you fair warning

you were looking through the wrong end of the telescope
comatose waiting for this to grow

1.2.20

CIVILWARS
im slowly displacing
pushed out of my home, bit by bit
the way she takes over the bathroom while im fighting for a toothbrush holder
youre quick to compensate
“look how far i’ve come” she says
all the while im packing my bags three days a week so you can
sleep in your own bed
like any good mailman does
moving between housing bearing messages and resentment

but maybe im just to sensitive
you tell her
but you did not tell her – we split bread together
shared a roof, built a home, enjoyed a friendship
quick to ruffle your feathers
arrogant, selfish, and nearsighted

i tried forgiveness – but forgiveness tastes bitter
when shoved down your throat the way you shove me out of the house

if youd shown remorse – this would be different

early new year celebration
because you have too

because what you want doesn’t matter

for fuck’s sake – i need space
get a room, leave the country, something
you are suffocating

CIVIL WARS

12.2.19
i don’t know when i became ashamed of them
the man too loud, too high pitched
he doesn’t listen
the woman to selfish
too gluttonous
buying cheeses and fine meats
she lives in consumption
not wanting them near my truth
arms length
you’ll never really know me
you’ll never know Eden

CIVIL WARS
11.28.19
what the fuck is wrong with me
i love them
then i don’t
fawning over someone new
like they can keep me
my attention a
wriggly span of mayhaps
some flavor of never satisfied
he’s more woman than I’ll ever be
voice pitching princes
she’s more statue than i’ll ever carve
teaching a potato to dance
away the average
space died in the 90s
grow up

im fawning over my godmother
fat and happy and yet not
bickering over some uncooked turkey
i could be civil for you
grow your garden
make your flower
bloom

born in the wrong era
now i know what eve felt

CIVIL WARS
11.17.19
elevation siknesss
too high on leave me be
you poison me