my spotless mind.

my stomach feels like a low & rippling tide. a disturbing minnow, swimming cyclically inside of an itching, hollow space. & it's hungry. & it won't be fed. this self dialogue sounds like jim carrey on the beach at montauk. void & cold--such a traitor to the cause.

laying on the floor, stretching around and twisting my back. pointing my toes toward the heat dish. reaching my fingers out to...something. listening to the black keys tell me i'm not the one. i'm not the one. i can write myself a bunch of nonsense. like taking what i feel and what i think and burying it down, down, down. just digging a hole and throwing it in there and covering it in dirt. or words. but i know from experience: forgetting is made more simple when i have a bottle of dragonberry smirnoff and a flask of sunny brook whiskey. i have about a week before my house arrest begins. i have about a week to self medicate before i am faced with more time alone in my mind than i have even now. every time i hear mumford and sons, i want to throw my fists and pierce my eyes and scream.

i dream of sunshine on my face, marlboros between my fingers, life inside my eyes. drown myself in fruity drinks & mellow smoke & humanity found in crowded city streets beneath skyscrapers & the tallest billboard ads. orange & yellow birds painted on my windowsills, chiding me "good morning." cheap living in a downtown studio. a real bank account without 2:00 am overdrafts. no more four-dial safes & no more keyed-up lock boxes & no more holes hidden behind posters in my walls & holes under floorboards, rugs beneath the ground. cigarettes indoors. cat stevens sleeping on my legs again. & i want to bring home a new baby puppy--a pug because they're fat & stupid looking & always loll their tongues between their teeth in dumb, happy smiles.

this name blows arrows through my chest, the feathered tips sticky with something foreign to me. the prospect of lacunar amnesia has been so appealing to me lately. i can never sleep. i mean, my god--all i have to do is lie on my back and wait for my thoughts to be erased. i know i wouldn't. but i wish it were that easy. i wish anything about her was ever simple. sometimes i think i'm smoking on the back porch and listening to trains, and there's someone beside me. holding both my hands.

don't you fucking dare read into my words.

you don't have the decency to miss anything.

i don't know why i feel weird lately.

i know i poke my tongue between my teeth when i laugh. thanks for noticing.