Help

I guess I’ll get off here. It’s a good a place as any. I’ve been in this town forever. It feels like I can get off anywhere and I’ll know how to get to my destination. I hope that it’s already dark when I get out of the tunnel. I hope my small decisions today will help me tomorrow. I hope all of this can do something for me. I can’t remember anything about my past and I have no direction on where my future can go. I am living in the now. The now is constantly nothing. Small things inspire and that’s it. You can’t really talk about how fucking awful you are mostly all the time. And the fact that you can’t feel like you can move forward and you don’t dare look at what is behind you. You just go. You try to get by. You try to forget about the boredom and the waiting and the stalling and the missed connections, missed opportunities, small failures overtime. The fact that the color of your skin is responsible for so much, bullshit white America and it’s money and the fact that you hate it and you despise yourself for knowing you rely on the money so much for your things, for the fucking roof over your head, for everything you do with your friends, or lovers, Showing affection by spending money on someone. Money is value, money is love here. It’s crazy. And you go and you go and it doesn’t ever feel like you get much of a chance for air. You get nothing but lost memories, or fragmented memories of a happy time, a time that made you smile. A time that made you forget about everything. I think that thing is falling in love with somebody. After you do that nothing is ever the same again. Ever. It fucks you up forever. For the rest of your life. You felt it. You felt SOMETHING for once. You forgot about yourself. You lose yourself in another person. It’s insane. It’s the most insane thing I’ve ever done. And even if it ends and you move on, its already over. You crave what you had again. You stack it up next to your past lovers. You go searching for something similar, or something entirely different, just so you can forget about something that was so good. Because if you focus on that specifc thing you will lose your goddamn mind and walk in your own mucus shit. It’s what you end up doing anyways. Crawling around in your own clouded mind. Adding substances, becoming addicted to something that will take your mind of of it. You question your whole life, your whole morality.

Falling

I wanted to stop by the bar to see Lisa.
It was the middle of the day and the neighborhood was packed with people because of the event in the park.
I wanted to fuck.
Not sit around thinking of things to talk about and reminiscing about the past work week.
I decided I would go in and then take off right away even though I had nothing to do.
I walked in , past all the guys yelling at the television screen , and saw Lisa.
She was sitting with her friend Stephanie, drunk, eating chicken wings.
She motioned for me to sit in between her and her friend.
"Hey" I said.
"Hey there" she smiled and moved towards me and gave me a big kiss on my cheek.
I work with her so things are sort of awkward now.
We fucked after I got let go the first time and now that I'm back at the company I should probably keep away.
But I can't.
"Hey, I just wanted to stop in. I gotta go and meet some people."
"Are you trying to hurt me. You're just gonna pop in without getting one drink?" she said.
Thoughts entered my mind.
Sex.
The fact that I had fairly little money.
Sex.
The other girl at work that I wanted to fuck.
Lisa's legs and the small shorts she was wearing.
She moved close into me again and started to kiss me.
I moved in and let her have it.
She had been wanting to kiss me ever since I had been back.
I gave in.
I am weak.
"I really have to go."
I would make her suffer. I wanted to make her suffer.
She always got what she wanted out of men.
It was an experiment for me.
I would not give in to her advances.
"Where are you going." she said.
"To meet some friends for drinks. I had prior plans way before today."
"Ah, alright."
She moved in and we kissed again.
She was sloppy and her hands were covered in the sauce of the chicken.
Her friend stared at us while we kissed.
Irish men yelled, hollered at the T.V.
She stopped and I said I had to go again.
I got up and went out to my friend on the street.
"Made out a little bit" , I said for some reason.
"Nice" he said.
He got on his fixed gear bike and I got on my regular bike and we separated ways.
I got home and my roomate was taking off for work.
He worked at the Cheesecake factory and would be working from 5-1 in the morning.
"See ya" he said.
"Bye."
I walked into the bathroom, opened Bukowski, and sat on the toilet.
I read for a while and took a shit.
Then I turned on the bath water and went to the kitchen.
I poured myself a tall glass of brandy with ice and went into the bathroom.
I dipped my body into scalding water, took a sip of my drink, and read Bukowski until the sun went down.
A girl I had been seeing had called me while I was in the bath.
She left a message.
I didn't want to see her but she was all I had.
Her message said she was close by and wanted to see if i was home.
I got up and emptied the tub and dried myself off.
I sat on the toilet with the top closed with the lights off for a while.
Then I called her back and acted like an asshole because she didn't respond to my question about coming over fast enough.
She started to blab on about her roomate and how he should be a singer in my band.
I told her I had to go.
"Whhhyyyy???" she said.
"Cause I don't want to talk about your roomate."
I told her about the party at my house.
She sounded hurt but I liked it.
I hung up and went into my room where I listened to music and finished the rest of my drink

Debate

People kept saying that they wanted more beer.
Money was put on the table but no one made any motion to get any.
I was too lazy to take it and go get some myself so I sipped my beer slower.
Then we all turned towards the 60 inch flat screen television again.
One of the speakers seemed to make a point but they didn't really answer the question.
Someone made a face after Palin finished a question.
Everybody laughed.
Then someone in the room threw out a statistic/fact about something political.
Everyone nodded and someone else made a comment.
It was a mini battle on who knew more about things.
The room got louder and louder.
I couldn't really hear the debate anymore.
A lot of people's legs were shaking underneath the table.
Some people were chewing on their fingernails.
Some would glance at the screen and then glance down and peel at their beer labels.
People reached into the Halloween candy bucket in the middle of the table.
Shitty beer makes me pee so I went to the bathroom 3 times after drinking 2 beers.
'More points were made.'
'More things we're said.'
Voices got louder, smiles got bigger, tears came to eyes.
America watched the two figures stand behind podiums on a red and blue carpeted stage.
This went on for an hour and a half until it was done.
Then families came together and hugged.
Two different families came together on stage and met each other.
Maybe for the first time.
Everyone treated each other nicely.
I got up and said my goodbyes and rode my bike home in the dark.

Next time think.

There’s construction going on inside.
Endless expansion.
Halfhearted release with mild guilt.
Modern guilt in a crumbling society based off nothing.
I have nothing to talk about.
I’m an empty vessel for creation.
I am a small fuck you.
I can’t do anything but sit around sometimes. My head is throbbing and I’m not quite sure what I want to do today. There is construction going on behind my room. It feels like they are going to break the walls down and climb into this small area that I call home. It doesn’t feel like home. Anyone can walk in at any second. I was taking a nap yesterday and one of my roommates walked into my room. I pretended I was napping. I drank too much last night. I got mad at someone for giving me advice. I don’t need advice from you. Stop yapping your fucking mouth. Shut the fuck up. You’ve been standing there for 15 minutes flapping your fucking lips around and you’re not saying anything. I’m not going to sit here like a chump and let you try to instill some wisdom into me. With your fucking fake act. You are the cancer of everything that’s wrong with society. You are a walking cancer trying to infest others with your words. You are a recording of everyone you’ve ever known. Thank you for the advice but I wasn’t listening. No one was. They are thinking about their own thoughts. I am tired. Leave me alone while I ponder my existence. Everything feels wrong. Everything is crumbling. I can’t stop and watch. We are all pretending. Why do people pretend so much. Why can’t we all be honest with each other. I don’t want to lie to your face but I do. I want you to understand that I don’t care. Your feelings mean nothing to me. All I can do is provide words. Ever. That’s it. Nothing else. Why is it so difficult sometimes to find a woman to love. Time floats in between these moments. You find out more about yourself than ever. You find out that you are nothing. That all you can do is yell and write words. Jump up and down and act like a complete idiot. It’s pointless to try to look for something. It always comes to you. I am a dog on a short leash. I’m too stupid to figure out how to escape. I can’t think properly. I wonder if things will ever be ok. I want o lay in the grass somewhere I’ve never been. I want to remember every small detail about you. But I can’t. There are just fragments lost in time that float around. Just like us. I can’t help but wonder if this is it. I know that more things will happen. But this moment is indifference. Why does time have to give us feeling. There’s all the people waiting. I can see them. Being online makes me feel less lonely. I can’t remember what I did before the Internet. I hate the Internet. I hate you. Sometimes. Sometimes. I want to take her from you. I want to ruin something beautiful. I want to come to terms with that. I want to come to terms with my insanity. I want to let it flow from me with ease. Filling up a glass without spilling all over the goddamn place. I know I will never be able to stop writing. But I can never write enough. Nothing I write goes anywhere. People will find all this and wonder what it all means. I am coming to terms with my reality. I can see the things I want and I am touching them. I have separated myself from the machine.