Sunny day outside the smoky room

I sit up on the bed amid a sea of skeletons
there’s smoke in the air that blurs vision and the sunlight hides behind smelly old curtains
I’ve been feeling like a a blank canvas
and that was ok; it was better not to feel than to feel
the door’s shut from outside, blocking all their echos and voices
it’s best to avoid anything at all costs in this dreary heavenly escape

amid the dim lights and the distant color of dust and smoke in the air,
there’s this image of your random eyes
how big, dark, and happily squinted they were in the mirror
those joyful, fun, playful eyes
full of life; livin’ your rock star life
straight out of some movie you are
how far your life and how far mine
yet at one point, neighboring kids of the same time and space
I romanticize your Anthony Kiedis from Red Hot Chili Peppers type of life
stay there in sunny Cali paradise
I’ll think of your jovial ride
while sinking calmly in the dark smoky pool of air

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Saddest thing ever

When you’re feeling alone and riddled with fear in the dark of the night
And playing catch in an empty living room with a helpless playful dog for the sake of his negligible happiness

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Shiny dim eyes

He looked at me with shiny eyes. We were lying next to each other and it was dark. He smiled with a curvature on his lips
And he didn’t say a thing
And when he spoke, he purred deep words. He placed my fallen hair strands back behind my ears and told me that I’m the one. The cicadas made noise outside our window
But I couldn’t speak and I was convinced. His dark eyes made a twinkle and he said he loved me and he asked if I loved him too, and this time I said,
“For real I do.” He smiled and caressed my cheek as he kept his gaze.
“Good,”
said the devil.

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Three guys, all f’d Up

Her life was getting miserable-r, just like anybody else’s, but while getting into that cavity that one falls into in the back of their minds; that cavity that makes everything a thousand times more horrible and painful; she had a thought– there were others too, just as miserable.
They live perfect lives and always have something missing inside. Product of a complex world. Less time using hands, more time forming thoughts that have no basis
No relative thing to hang on to.

He leads a perfect life and has everything else, but he still misses that. That time when he used to care less about everything. Now he realizes he’s old and is only growing older, and now he would do anyyythinnngggg
Anything
To get it back. It only took over a decade for him to realize how much time he had lost.

Then there’s him. Running on diet Pepsi. Needing it every five minutes to wake up. Mundane drive around town, mundane job and a slow life. He’s got all the time in the world and it’s always spent on useless stuff. When the sun hits his head from the side, he could look like a star of all sorts. He’s got a skinny body and a tiny head; you could put a cape on him and call him superman. He hops into his beat-up car and sputters off. There’s bills to pay, other odd end jobs to find, possibly a nice girl to hope for, and the pursuit of god damn happiness.

Then there’s that guy. Everything’s going right for him, but it’s just those other a-holes that ruin it for him. He just needs his box of food and a night of watching sports with his curtains all closed. He just needs a girl to make herself ready for him at all times. There’s no concept of time. There’s no rush for anything, there’s no aim. There’s just eating, breathing, fucking, and using the toilet. If the world would let him, he’d eat a box of pizza forever and grow forever into a ball. They would roll him down the stairs, roll him down the streets; he wouldn’t care. That’s life for ya. It’s just others who have it all jacked up. What a bunch of losers.

Thus, in the end there’s nothing to be happy about, and yet even more, there’s nothing to be sad about knowing that everyone is just as miserable as the other. There really could be no misery when misery is the norm. She saw the guy gulp in the bottle of Pepsi to get a kick start on his life. She saw the reflection of the dude in a car trying to race back in time. She saw the fat dude reading about sports in his phone with apathetic eyes. Dim sunlight, fading reflections in time, slow moving speedy car rides. Stars in our eyes. Buzzing delusions, vacant dreams. Our faces converge and we look at one another. There’s a sense of wonder, but there’s an ever greater sense of hopelessness. We ride down the road together, our heads rocking around.

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The hazy blue world in Europe

She was a blonde high-school classmate who wanted to become a missionary one day. On the bus ride home, she told me about a time when someone she knew got into a car accident and almost became decapitated, or was decapitated. I eventually learned what that meant. Those days were cold and grey from what I recall. Sports jackets and pathetic blue jeans. Rice paper powder face and straight long hair. Cold wet basements and visions of a blue house along with thoughts on what it’s like to be grown and to be so far away from all this darkness here. Across the seas and straight to Europe, people probably lived a better life. Riding a car around blue hills with headphones on. From the basement window, the bleak daylight used to shine where I stood. And my heart would skip thinking about the college guy who could save me. He sat at the dinner table with a pack of cigarettes. He had a checkbook and a history of love affairs. I keenly listened and made glamorous assumptions about the adult world and was jealous of him and his freedom and all that. It was sad thinking about what could have been in those times of eye liners and flare jeans. Maybe weekend trips to California and a dark haired boy to go out on dates with and to brag about. But those were tied to dreams with the blue hills and convertibles; far out of my reach. In order to live you have to have cheap thrills so that’s where his cigarettes and stories came in. Those were hopeless cold times and my skin was pale and the clouds were grey and my eyes twinkled at whatever that flickered before me.
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Burning wood

Quiet nights
And the midnight stray dogs that bark
The scent of burning wood
Clay pots and runny rice
On a stove made of fine earth

I’m wearing my favorite cotton dress
And peeking out the open window railings
While the cool breeze touches my face
Unlocking my heart
There’s the lingering scent from grandma’s cooking
And a search for a lover in the dark

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