Marriage Dream

I had a dream you got married

To the best friend of my neighbors

To the best friend of my brother

To the best friend of my family

To the best friend of my best friends 

It wasn’t me though,

Because I know myself:

I arrived at my aunt’s hungover

Depressed (but generally

not circumstances induced)

I desperately wanted to go to sleep

But this was the dream where you get married

He knew the names of my friends’ children

And they knew his and they giggled together

And the last night I saw them they were two

“Why hadn’t they stayed babies?

Why did they have to grow up?” I asked

“Its what they do” their father answered,

“He wrote a good poem about it” 

And sent me a link 

My aunt came to make sure I was feeling well

-Your wedding was the next day!-

And throughout the house friends and family

Not just mine, but his and yours, were running

The kids were playing tag and goofing 

The adults were carrying supplies and gifts and goofing 

“Yeah, I’m fine”

Everyone slept

And I laid in the only spot available 

(I had been late)

It was a mat and sleeping bag in the living room

The couch was taken by a girl with alcoholic breath who had left a video game on the TV

And that’s when I saw you out of the window

And then I woke up

Quarantined and cold in April

Pain in my knee from falling 

Soreness in my arms from carrying nothing

My Fitbit says it’s 3am

Why do I have a headache? Cotton mouth?

For fucks sake I didn’t drink that much 

I slowly wake up, a second time,

And I realize I’m late, a second time,

The wedding is starting soon

So I dash to the elevator 

Where I descend into a Death Star turned inside out 

It goes straight down through the middle

Of a vast planetary sized bowl

Where the edges are lit like fires

By the sunlight that can’t make its way down 

Into the spacious darkness below

At some point the elevator shaft ends 

and the elevator simply flies automatically

To the wedding reception

I’ve missed the wedding ceremony

But I see Him walking through the crowd 

“I’m so glad you could make it

I really appreciate it

Everyone is so glad you’re here

It’s so relieving talking to you

You get it yeah? Come to this thing after

God, I have to talk to more people”

He departs

Dressed in Byzantium gold adorned with red jewels

And cloaked in a red cape adorned with gold jewels

A crown on his head with a dazzling array of light 

I gotta get the fuck out of here

My family wanted to stop and chat; no

My friends wanted to stop and chat; no

His Family wanted to stop and chat; fuck no

The elevator lifts off

Raising me through the darkness

Through this inside out Death Star

Towards the-

     -it gets stuck in the shaft

I pop my head out of the box

“What the fuck” 

A diatribe from another guest comes:

“Heroes these days don’t have to work

They’re simply gifted deus ex machinas

And so when the hero or heroine wins

It doesn’t feel deserved so no one cares 

They have to struggle”

I think he’s wrong

And I struggle with the machine 

Something with ropes? They’re knotted 

They’re untied, they’re loose 

They have no slack 

I struggle through it, alone 

And then I just fall holding onto the rope

And the elevator shaft whizzes by

Until the rope stops my fall in free space 

The darkness is below me

The rim of fire above me

And the rope is stuck on a loose nail

Bending toward its yield point 

I let go, full expecting to wake up

But there’s This Thing After 

And it’s not an after party 

It’s a big circle, all of his His Friends,

His Family, and also, for some reason,

My Friends and My Family are there 

All of them are men 

And I have this fear that they might beat the shit out of me 

Instead He passes out a specialized booklet 

First to his father and then to his brother

And then eventually to my father and my brother and then me

I realize as he comes down the circle,

They’re thank you cards, but not just tiny cards, more like thank you mini-novellas

He has written for every one of them

He hands me mine, clasps my shoulder,  and whispers,

“Really, I appreciate you coming.

She doesn’t want to be your friend 

But she wanted you here to see this,

Thanks so much, buddy”

Through the window I see her then

Dressed in gold:

Flowers and red jewels running down her dress 

Her veil is red 

Her earrings are like two suns 

Her eyes turn to me

I wither 

I wake up

I Couldn't Anymore

I couldn't stop thinking
So I drank until the thoughts stopped

I couldn't stop feeling
So I worked until my brain blistered

I couldn't hear you anymore
So I made a hundred playlists about you

I couldn't stand not knowing
So I went to an office building by the highway
After steeling my nerves
And asked,
"What the fuck is wrong with me?"

I couldn't find relief in knowing

I couldn't find relief

I couldn't see you anymore
So I gouged out my eyes

I couldn't feel you anymore
So I threw myself down a mountain

I couldn't hold you anymore
So I bought a weighted blank

I couldn't couldn't anymore

The Caves in Virginia

The caves in Virginia are nuts
The second you walk in on a warm October day
(it's 80 degrees outside)
It's cold as shit, like fifty degrees
You reminded me to bring a jacket
and I didn't listen

The caves in Virginia are nuts
The grift is obvious; local tourist trap shit
These people have been doing it forever
And they are losing to the Internet
and Spirit Airlines
(you can fly to Vietnam and see 10x bigger caves for like, $400)

The caves in Virginia, again, are nuts
They have put lights throughout the entire complex
And the ingenuity of man meanders through the meaninglessness of nature

The caves in Virginia are nuts
Vast voids, like those you left in my heart,
With dendrites barely touching
Dripping dripping
Like the leaks from my heart

I Said So Many More People Were Going To Die

I said so many more people were going to die
But goddamned it we did it people
We fucking did it
A million lives have been spared
I was fucking wrong
I was fantastically and totally
Overly pessimistic about how fucking awful and shitty you are

Maybe I'm just projecting

Running for Peonies

I've been running recently
Haven't done it since that time outside your house
It was hot as fuck and humid as fuck
Downtown was empty as fuck at seven o'fuck

But that's Jacksonville for you.

I've been running recently
Stopping to take pictures of the flowers I pass
I don't know their names
I don't have words for their colors
Red? Purple? Shit I don't know

Some purple petals grow out of the tree branches and I think,
"Are these flowers weeds? This looks like an infection
How does this work?
Can something so beautiful kill something else?"

Obviously yes, hahaha
Of fucking course
ha ha ha

My favorite flowers are in front of the apartment I moved into for you
There's this tree in the middle of the courtyard
And a branch comes down to the left, right where my head is
And the flowers at the end are the pinkest pinkest pink

I fucking love those flowers

I see them when I go on runs,
And off I went,
Down the street:

A storm was coming,
the pressure dropping
the Wind rushing,
and I had a good thirty minute slip where I could get outside:

The trees were stripped,
Petals rising upwards and downwards like snowflakes
Just for me, the asshole going outside during a pandemic.

I was trying a new route.
I always try new routes.
I'm looking for peonies
They're the one flower I know
because you made me learn.

I've scoured my apartment complex.
The one next door.
The million-dollar gardens of my neighbors.
I run at a slow six and a half mile per hour
Scowering.

Today, when I got back to my apartment at 2,
I came empty-handed and with photos of grass.

The pinkest pinkest pinks were stripped by the wind
Dangling.

Just Pushing Air

Why do we remember meaningless things?
I remember telling a girl I'd met on the internet, who I never have and never will meet, that I had just watched a weird movie - Buster's Mal Heart.
She'd seen it too.
We both thought it was okay.

I wish I could replace those memories with small details to fill the gaps in memories more important to me. The color of her shirt, or the expression on her face. Something to make it more real.

I kind of hate movies for that. They always make memories seem so crystal clear, but they're not. Not even the important ones. At least not for me.

I think I'm addicted to my phone.
And I don't even like it.
I've got the world at my fingertips and I couldn't care less.
It's just a distraction from the empty apartment and the emptier space on the other side of the door.
The phone screen if full of things but it's really just a void.
Nietzsche really knew his shit.

I feel like I'm always searching for inspiration in the laziest ways possible. I keep a list of all the movies I watch, as if that actually means something. I've watched six hundred and fifty-one.
I people watch, but people aren't really that interesting. Not in real life, anyways. They like routine and comfort and sameness, and they're not so worried about being something worth watching.
I wish they were, but then I'd be a hypocrite.

I'm the blade of a ceiling fan. Always chasing, always being chased. And for what?
Just pushing air out of the way.