pulp.

i grind my teeth dream. anything. in between a fraction of an inch. incisor. labels marked. apathy. robotic. looming beaded doll eyes with pupils that sway to and fro. paisley couch. serenade. middle room. childhood. crib. i am. asleep. with a polar bear on top of me and a fat siamese cat named drew to keep me warm.

watch dog. watch cat. i couldn't tell time. or count money. not with you hovering over me. yelling at me. threatening me.

here i am in a foxhole. a coward. an apprentice. i have a gun. it is novel. i have an ear drum. it is shattered. i am a sweaty palm. i am chapped lips in a sneer. i am a fish in a barrel. shoot me.

water is soft and deadly. lovers are too. your voice is an anchor. but i've had one of those before and sometimes they get detached in a gale. your voice. it's a long drive off the highway that soon i won't have to drive anymore. your voice. sometimes i have to block out your voice just so i don't have to listen to it through a tin can and a string.

i get tied up.

it's another year. i asked my tables how they felt about it. they said they didn't know. i said i was apprehensive. it's an odd number. but odd numbers accompany my even age. 26 was good. 27 was a toss up. waving hands in the air and wishing that you could wave them like you just didn't care but really. really?

we'll say bang but at this point i think i need to whimper. i have shiny treasure. i am nostalgic. i am post apocalyptic. i am an economic crisis on the verge of change.

she says she knows a lot about the space program. if i'm not doing this i am a waste of space. i have to develop my own program.

my grandmother is a net. an intrinsically woven canopy of varicose veins and love. she was made this way. by some mystical knitting spider. to trap me catch me comfort me when i lose my balance. which is a sign of my b12 deficiency.

i don't come with a dimmer switch. i am intrinsic in my electrical capabilities. i am on or off. all or nothing. i don't know what sort of spider wove me this way. either way. the floor is sticky from chocolate soy milk.

hold your head up.

in your hands your hands feel heavy because you are heavy. if the hangman is riding the hang glider and there is no wind to lift him/her then that means that they fall. a once floating feeling and then they sink to the bottom like a stone.

like our stones
like our stones.
like i know you can skip stones. without even asking.


finger press. printing press.

pale skin submarine.

i remember that time my heart was beating fast in the tent. i couldn't breathe and i didn't know why. pulling my face. yanking me. pulling me. moving me. trying to get me to maneuver. trying to get me. i don't know where i go when i'm scared. when i'm like this and i have all these goals that i'm setting for myself. working with. reeling with. reeling it in. fishing line. hook and line and sinker. and red and white lined bobber. and there she is on the shore throwing the life jacket as my bouy. snapping turtle chasing me. toes are kicking. young girls screaming.

we talked about bunk beds the other night. how. my mother used to hold me on one. my father used to touch me on another. i attempted to lose my virginity on one later. 15 shots of tequilla in the desert. when i found out that my lover had another lover and i wasn't a lover i was useless at pool. at school. at being an adult.

soy sauce.

so. what. i'm salty. salt scrub. abrasive. rub a dub. you're laying on the couch crying. when i want to. but i've got hours of work. i've got money to make. i've got promises to keep. i've got a move to do. i can't depend on anyone but myself. i can't make things better for you. i can't give up what i want to do. not for anyone. never again.

i'm submerged and screaming so you don't have to listen to me bitching. when i'm like this i don't want to be invaded. all i want is a minute. not to be rushed. to just get it together. so i don't have to rely on a bottle of pills. or a bottle of booze. or anything. i hate to rely on anything.

it's like the shelter that i built at the lake for the dogs and the children. one strong wind. tumble. rebuild. sticks in the sand. i'll keep doing it. i'll keep rebuilding it. i'll make you a fire pit so you can grill your meat on it. sometimes if i'm sad i just need something to do. a tree to climb. a mud pie. a child to make a snack for. a garden to tend.


i had a vegetable garden in the ghetto. tomatoes. cilantro. sunflowers. spinach.
i could have made a salad.

i remember one time lee's mother was making spaghetti. she threw a noodle up against the cabinet to check if it was done. my instinct, or first initial reaction was that her mother was going to slap her.

she didn't.

i'm still surprised. one. that familys can throw noodles. and two. that that's how you can actually check to see if pasta is done. three. that when i'm around my collected family. i teach their children these things.

aurora and kwaiden can spit cherry seed far. because of me.

these things i teach i didn't learn from my own parents.

i won't ever put the knife blades sharp point first, no matter how clean it's supposed to get them.
i won't neglect to help my children with math, even if i am bad at it.
i won't tell them not to laugh when something is funny or because they are nervous.
i will not kill animals that they find because i do not have the energy to help them care for them.
i will not
i will not
i will not
i will not
climb the roof.