We Destroy Each Other

 We Destroy Each Other

Sitting   there; 

 boredom   eventually   took   over   and   inside   of   the   head,  

                                                              the   mind  

wondered   over   songs 

                                                                                 lodged

  into   memory.   Radio   broadcasts   of   melodies,   

which   were   faint;   but,   

distinct   enough   to   grant   familiarity

                                                                and

   satisfaction.   

Thoughts   of   past   times   followed:   of   Central   Pennsylvanian   farmlands, 

 seen   through   the   eyes  

                                                      of

   one   half   of   a   young   couple,   both   in   a   car, 

 taking   in   the   scenery   

                                                                                                                              and   talking   about   life   after   

university, 

 when   they   were   finally   free, 

                                                 to   move   to   a   big   city. 

 And   with   that   particular   memory,   also   came 

 feelings 

 of   SADNESS   and   LET   DOWN; 

                            knowing   with   hindsight,   

                                                                                     that   the   foundations   upon   which   that   relationship

   was  built   would   crumble   horribly 

               and   that   the   truth   of   the   currencies   exchanged   between 

                                                                                                         the   couple,

                                                                                                                      in   the   form   of   shared   hopes   and   dreams  

                   and   a   desired   future   together, 

                                                                                        were   nothing   more 

 than

                                                             idealistic   longings, 

                                                                                                         destine   to   never   be   outside   of   the   movies…

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AS WICHITA FALLS, SO FALLS WICHITA FALLS

 

AS WICHITA FALLS, SO FALLS WICHITA FALLS

 


time is just a phase

time is just a phase

street

phase

faced

with

poor

health

people

met

and

lost

work

events

not

anticipated

winds

without

destinations

directed

life

held

tight

to

memories

served

 as

 vessels

 to

safe

 past

 places

creationism

endless

revisions

antidepressants

labeled

 with

 fucked

 up

brand

names

old

dogs

old

tricks

clock

ticks

 pushed

 time

 forward

home

phase

saw

bike

rides

riddles

pain

relief

medications

holidays

 and

vacations

sunrises

sunsets

bare

feet

walk

upon

dense

carpets

endless

work

a

bed

 instead

 of

a

 bench

with

people

 met

 and

 kept

 and

 held

close

as

hopeful

thoughts

serve

  as

 conduits

 to

a

 peaceful

 future


Don’t Think About It…

...just say it.


Can’t Win Anything; Penn’s (Mis)Landing

Can’t Win Anything; Penn’s (Mis)Landing

I. Come Down

With the speed gone, the fun of the game dried up like blood left at a crime scene. Delusions of grandeur and success got replaced with sober and ugly realities. Again (and again and always alone) this time sitting on a park bench at Philadelphia’s Penn’s Landing, looking out at the Delaware River and across to the neighboring state of New Jersey and its Camden waterfront. Having just wrote a letter, a potential transmission from heart to heart, there sprang no better feelings or release. Nothing’s ever any better because the realities are still the same: alone and broke again. Again without anything; nothing of substance anyway… I suppose these are merely high class problems in comparison to those which exist around the world.

II. Come Further Down

All I really want is a drink. One burning shot of whiskey will fix me; then another. Or maybe; some rum… He and I haven’t spoken for awhile. Something over ice or with water… Something, anything, other than vodka; because, were not talking anymore. We had a falling out of sorts. Anything other than foul, cheap, corn-colored American beer- she and I have so many problems that I don’t even know where to begin. All I know is that I need something as the wind annoys me, as do the ripples in the water, and the stickiness of the perspiration caused by the heat of the sun upon my face, and these same fucking clothes, always here, always following, always grabbing the wrong parts of my body. I’m convinced that my body is sick. If my mind goes, I won’t be able to take it.