Screen Off Memos or a Fever Dream

There's an actual child

and she's actually fat as fuck

at 1:21 in the morning.

    But then again, 

it is what it is.

Pepper tree story!

I saw the chickens

and wanted to be them

Walking down old country roads

is an exercise in trust

Doesn't seem right

being surrounded by olives.

Or Eucalyptus

Thank you,

old, fat lizard,

for allowing me to

hold you for a moment

    You remind me of when

I was young and fast and

caught young and fast lizards.

    Thank you.

The seemingly random

(this is about the pretty, little, red flowers

     and that memory is mine)

I went the right way

because it was literal

I take pictures to share but

the little red flowers are for me

 

I wish that I could tell you 

how to share this moment with me

    Alas, it is but [something?]

Nature and a moment

gave this seat to me

I want to go to 

all of the places where

only the few go

I still say these

things in my head

that I hate to say

This (a view)

is a better story than

I could ever hope to tell

Eventually,

I went to take a drag

but it was already out

    I thanked myself

and walked about

I had to tell myself

to just be there for a fucking moment

That's going to be more fun

when I'm less drunk

I decided before

and realized after

We don't have fireflies

but we've got

white moths at twilight

You only get to see the trees

that no one sees

if you go and find them

The right kind of lost

The pretty little tree

with the pretty and sudden spring flowers

and the caution tape around it

looked more sad than the other

less pretty trees

Walked into the resort dancing

like I was in a Maklemore video

to this fuckin' gem,

I texted to the friend

Sang a bunch in the shower;

Hot water for that Counting Crows song

    (the one with the cello) and

that Lana track

"if you know, you know"

I walked where

fewer people have

I've seen hot girls

walk funny too

Smokin' time.

Just the red leaf

this time

I'm sitting outside to smoke

and wondering,

    are these people like me?

Children + Casino = strange

They look that good

so that they can resent

all of those

looking them down

and somehow

feel better about it.

MPs

I forget, exactly, why 

that night in Hesse

I was arrested. 

But I was, pretty, sure.

    Others could tell it better.

    Others could remind me.

Mostly, I was alone and

somehow I was let off.

It wasn't actually a big deal

but sometimes I remember it.

Chug a' Lugg's

 There's the two types of Chuggs:

   ~the "Chug, Chuug, Chugg," with constant sips and swallows, and

   ~ the long 'Chhuuggg," where the Chugger chugged long and held both close and far before the swallow. The one like gutting a dip before the boss suddenly comes around. 

A drunk guy told me this while I was too, drunk.

Untitled One

My little cigar is

again unlit because

enthusiasm for lighting

was extinguished by

sudden excitement

for that. new. track.

Bedtime

I wanted to but,

I didn't write anymore

because

I couldn't smoke weed

    in the room and

I couldn't smoke (smoke)

    in this or any room anymore and

I'm out of booze and

though there's a good window,

there isn't a view when it's dark outside

and in your soul,

too

But maybe that's why

I always leave the curtains open 

Temecula

Shade on the foothills,

sun on the (actual) snow-capped mountaintops.

I think that I know,

but am satisfied with

being close enough to

being right enough to fit in

with the (uninformed) locals.

I see what I see and

I know what I know.

Sometimes I'm right.

[Ir]reverence

How many things

I have seen before

so words heard were

uncertainly 

expected

unencumbered on a memory

expecting exception

for the 

now, new, few?

Exceptional tall tales

fallow until the backward 

words prevail

until entrails of

surprising suspends

what I've forgotten

and where I suspect

that the deities have fallen fealty 

I died today 

so that tomorrow 

might've heard me

Weight! that's another 

lover loving their

unrealized future

unforgiven then

once again remembered

extremities

double plus ungood

and should is the worst word

skewed is the most truest

unacceptable

forgiving thin

explanations 

and fears' extrapolations 

aghast'd whims

and

sudden realizations 

Said that you

NO

different knowing

for ever

lasting spent

portmanteaus 

could have been

something else

entirely 

Said to Myself

20220901

My introduction to politics 

was through Tupac

But I didn't know it

Poet unknown

Yet, still, I loved Biggie

he spoke and

the hooks held me

Unfortunately

forbidden

I was disallowed

I'd never been to Brooklyn

but I felt it

When I ran to the store

It was because I knew that

the gangs wouldn't chase me

Too lazy

Street justice was 

fast or faster

I was faster

Years prior

I had desired

that radio DJs would just

stop fucking talking

at the end of the song(s)

Yet they kept on

when I would press play

or pause

on my cassette

Those ones that I stole from my Mom

Belinda Carlise was

unimportant but repurposed

She probably doesn't know to this day

Under the Bridge!

Under a smidgen we're told

defined

and so far away but

closer than I could know

My words are write

and wrong

Am I self and

unsuspecting?

Am I lying to myself

or just telling that

I felt older

when I was younger

than I do now that I'm

Old

I was perfect 

because I couldn't be

anything else

I was

ineffectual for a time

until I learned

Harry Belafonte tapes

were as important

as Sublime CDs were

I was on 

the wrongest street

But the writest

think

The things that I wanted to say

remembered

that they've been unsaid

Serotiny

Just remember

I hate myself more 

than y'all ever will

Or could

Should've misinterpreted 

syllables

I'm lonely

I don't see how

it correlates

But I suspect

most things are wrong

I expect

to be told differently

I engender sympathy

When I ask, invariably

[skip]

Why do I wake up?

Uncertain.

Look, maybe I 

will shape 

that thing unknown

the spring unexpected 

is growing

So, tired.

Tried to explain

entertaining 

expectations and

explored altruistic

vacating sensations

where words fall away

Where words today 

are unknown but

get written

anyway

Suppose their relevance

expose

sure, there it is

fantastic

things are

applicable

to a moment

hear

exponential

under

stand

ingress

simply

Here I am

years later

undeniably

denied the 

demise that 

I promised to me

the unexplained

things 

according 

to beliefs

that I tell

myself everyday

And yet

I survive

I write

no wrongs 

but those that I belong to 

A right

is left to explore

surety

that exists,

epidemic

and subsisting

on memories

fallacy 

supposedly 

I can say so many things

no, apparently

I am

me

or not

remembering

purpose

after the

fact is more 

easily expressed

less expected

than those words

that creep up

during the day

exciting me 

in a moment 

forgotten

like a 

goddamned

memory's

undetermined

impact

Like I need

like an analogy  

was supposed to be next

an apology 

for yesterday's parable 

is suddenly suspect

and I'm able

Coincidence

coincides with

condemnations

exciting

Lead [with] trying

to remember

that last time that I

surrendered more

than

I expected to

I don’t know

I never do

I don’t is

Exhausting

is expecting

Is explicit choosing

indifference specific enough?

This is shifting

Everything is enticing

Anything is

Things are

And stories go

But

Conversations forgotten 

are more important

Explanations: mean

I’m just one,

A type away…

She carefully treads

in a picture

Dichotomy

Lonely’d me again

Why are all the last best stories told

When we’re fucked up?

I don’t know

I’m scared

I suppose

I’m not too mad about it.

Fair exposition is

exponentially

exposed

Fail

Telling myself

’Great job, people saver.

With expectations explaining

favor misunderstood

and savoring bullshit.’

Entice something more

and apologize like I do

when writing in another

place.

I’m supposed to face

I save face

I have no fucking idea

how to do those things

How do you 

learn

how to be an asshole?

Why do you regret it,

especially,

when expectations

fuckin’ agree

that altruism denies

such easy possibilities?

Sincerity 

Is the succinct

when you wear it, and

where suspect is too normal

To formulate is the easy way

to expect

facilitations

expectations

suspect

explanations

unexplained

serenity

Subject's have...

I have a home now

and I'm not alone

because

my other selves are

with me

I have my flaws

lonely

the temporary

lovely

the explanatory

entice is

two times

thought less

about more things

exposing

and suddenly I suppose 

I do that

I'm empathic

emphatic

lead tragic

paradoxes

addicted to a

pain that I don't want

sadistic

a word

I'm want to flaunt

secretly

an adjective

always

describing how

aught to know better

sought an explanation

a rhyme without

passion

and only conversation

is consternation

closely

I be

come instrumental

lest the 

influential 

determine

moreso than

the expected

I have a home now

and I always have

despite

physicality

and so

I have my flaws

loneliness 

is the memory

and lovely

is

Lo Disfruté

I am very passionate
right now and
I can't think of any words

that

I want to say.

Cuando las palabras
son tan faciles
que olvidé

how to think,
how to write,

que es
imposible.

No se,
pero

quiero
find a way

es muy
importante

todas las dias y
everyday

también

Capricious

I lie in bed,
imagining instead,
of sleeping, dreaming
excruciating...

lead vs. led.

A pause for want
is chaste for naught
anything worth
salvaging.

I realize
the day, begone,
begets
the dawn.

Be

'Cause,
not lost,

damns the forgotten,
expects the fraught and

understands
none.the.less...

Predestination is
naivety.

In practice,
brevity has
earned and discerned absurdity,
deserving of the unknown.

and untold stories,
unfolding again,
absolutely concerning
the uncertainty of

mea culpa.

It's importan..ce
is inane

tonight.

Colloquy

Everything that's new is new,
again.

Contentment eshewes the pre

tend to necessity,
let it be
frugally
forgotten but remembered,
distempered,
disillusioned

egalitarian dreams are proof that
life is and is not
what it seems
to see

meant to do this,
spent for purpose,
allegorically terse,
ambivalently perverse
until after

wards' incumbents
use words triumphant and
circumvent the
pretend

schön.

Compren...
Days are long while
years are short.

Contort your face
when news portends
ascending, deflecting,
reflection of rejection
presupposed subjective

realization of tomorrow's
elicit
illicit questions of today
such as, 'when will it pay?'

Off topic,
"[t]he earth moved," okay?

Displaying story

telling how beneficial
coming full circle
reminds us of beauti

full transgression,
righteous, still
until objections
surmount
the status

quid pro quo.

Like a contract.

You should know
how dangerous that word is;

How scary the world could be
if stationary
is a product to write upon
and the place from which we spawned
our discontent.

Optomism is the prism that
rainbows regress to
when science requests
too much of us.

Strange is the answer
disgusting
discussions
distrust.

The fallacy of now
is that later predisposes

and the past is that
thing that you just cant.

Coda

I hate missing you
but love that I get to(o).

Miss you...

Today is
tomorrow's
yesterday.

Same!

Different in
a way,

obliged to the past,

indifferent: Exact,

afraid though
intact,

exceptionally

abstract.

Without pain,

abstain, refrain,

retrain,

disregard fallacy and
eventually

explain

what cannot (full stop).

Begin again.

Absconded [Dedicated to AJP]

Like the ears to the eyes,
I've lost myself
for the ease of demise

and...

These are the soundtrack to my sleep.

I've never understood,
I always intro-speak.

And where I'm abandoned
I miss myself.

But give you me
in this moment,
however tenderly,
has in this memory
remembered.

A worthless cause to be forgotten,
the second, for which we are begotten.

Then the words don't come like they once used to,
phobic of the filter for what I've been through
though as I'm, perhaps, wont to do.
Forget aphasia. I'm just a fool.

Unable to forget;
If this is it
I choose to quit!

Remedy the challenge that is to be,
sadden the role of atrophy,
fear explanation of supposedly...
adjectives which diefy the apathy
of me.

Strange not feeling motivation again,
its [purposely] differen...ce,
enticingly insignificant,
peacefully belligerent;
Afraid of pacification.

When I was young,
my Dad explained to me
how tomorrow never comes.

Now I'm older and tomorrow
is all that I want.

It still makes sense to me now,

to always teach the why behind the how,
to never hide behind the hallowed ground.

Don't expect the words to come
'cause, fuck, they're always there.

Don't accept that their from
is the shake after the stare.

Don't incept,
do secure,
don't attempt
but do infer.

We recktify.
Choose against odds so specified
a pry to ply.

Derelict in conviction
and absent in inhibition.

My mind is made, in that I abstain
from fear that when convenient
forgets tomorrow for today's implicit
call for now

to begin.

Known to the righteous:

Original sin.

Entendre des Happenstance

Longing no longer
for a dream undreamtof.
The rare subsistence of a reality proven forgone
and satisfaction toward luck's inherent fabrication.


To proceed down that lovely becauseway
where serendipity predisposes;
susceptible, as we are, to fallacy
in the state of having been so contrite


Rescinding the apologies for our antecedence
in appreciation of the consequence of now.
A happy epiphany from apparent revelation
that, therein lies optimism, and


when the moment proves to
consummate that i am, contracted, before perfect,
ignorance of its existence
dutifully gifts that dear friend bliss.

Difference

Today exists and is be...

'cause of the

majesty of a memory.

Though I may try

I cannot

forget the forgotten.

I long to fail more,

despite hate.

Pain's made me; Me?

Implication

I only know
because I have learned.
Stories withheld are equally earned
and tales told are privilege allowed.

Curiosity, though it begs,
is but a fiat currency,
powerful in its own worth
and valued for its perception.

For want of words never said,
emphatically loud whispers
are willfully forgotten,
delighting all concerned

though they shout with acts,
yell for action,
implore in acquiescence,
and present with presence.

Longing forget is willingly forgotten
while the joy for loss
turns to a loss of joy;
a shame(d) with a smile.

Words unsaid are as meaningful
as their otherwise-
living demands that
we forgive their absence.

Ego

Moments...
They define life
while experience serves but to dilute it.

The beauty of experience is fear,
a state of life
lost in content.

There certainly is emotion in forgetting.

Life is the ultimate advocate of entropy,
questioning its existence
brings order to the devolved.

There is order in pain.

The spite of hate
exists to question
the privilege of living.

As if luck has anything to do with it!

We taste fear,
see life,
and listen for answers.

Our ears and eyes may deceive us,
but the palate preserves
the palatable.

I've asked for more
because it tastes so damned good,
chewing always though the burn.

It is a guttural understanding-
The one you don't dare allow influence
because you can't. Fucking. Describe. Taste.

The taste that can motivate you
is the same that can't
offer any relief.

It is, in fact, a thing.

Passion personified
is only an answer
to a question of passion.

And taste is but another question upon itself....

Pain, it is an answer:
the Real where ambiguity stays afraid and
ostracizes fate.

Ease is facilitated by the simple.
Hate actually lives there,
but no one has ever tasted hate.

We only hate to taste.

Introspection

Just how long do I have to suffer
through this pain in my neck
before I decide that I've
been hanging my head for too long?

I'm an unsuccessful success:
The tears of happiness taken out of context,
the euphoria from a guiltily bummed cigarette,
and the drug store, closing time wine, enjoyed because the presented glass can't explain
    that it was filled from a box.

I'm the song that you love but can't, for your life, name,
a good deal bought from the commissioned,
the inexplicable awe and elation from an echo,
and the trepidation from a long awaited text message response.

I am the finger removed from the trigger,
reluctantly replaced,
and removed again.
Still living...

I'm together the fear and optimism of the unknown,
the infatuated "I love you,"
and the redundant cliche.
I am this once empty page.

Block(ed)

This. Empty. Page:
A result of such conceded failure
where success would stoically prove otherwise,
having left no evidence at the seen.

Not everyone deserves to know
the realization of your story.
But everyone has indeed earned the opportunity
to make certain that it has been told.

Knowledge isn't in the knowing,
but in the learning.
Depravity is the everyday, unseen proof
that the story goes yet unwritten.

Justice is realized on the face of precedent,
hence: Injustice.
This, even though ignorance presents as the
byproduct of stories withheld.

Words are the fight,
the struggle,
the proof,
and the answer.

Even when the answer is wrong,
there is no question left
but for those that were aborted
before they have ever realized that they had lived.

Let me,
no, find me,
pray,
be write.

Relief

I'm starting to think that I may never know what right is.
In that, I find no solitude.
But I believe, too,
that such incognition
may be anything but mutually exclusive.

We all feel pain,
and mine is worse than yours by rite.
By writ!
A solace as undeserved as the breath yet laboring.
Exclusivity earned in spite of its understanding.

Why then do we suffer?
Sharing is the first of the facades that
we are taught.
Overcoming intrinsic greed is the fallacy of
our collective hope.

We give only but because we want.
Love is the most selfish of acts,
paradoxically selfless in the same.
Which is how I fear how I love without loving
and maybe why I hate how I love.

Why do the answers so often go unquestioned?
Rationalizations are subjective,
perchance.
And so we spitefully expire while hoping to inspire
when perhaps found is in the finding all along.

To earn without earning
and to deserve absent entitlement
mocks reality.
But to hurt?
Maybe that is to be.

And if so, that means that just maybe...
I've been the wrong right throughout.

Translucent

It's pretty easy to start to forget who you are when you've been reminded so often of who you're supposed to be.

Subjectivity is the robber in the night, taking always from the unaware.

Until you find it.

And then you fuck it up.

Or, hope to at least...

Get it before it gets you.

Hoping always that you find no fear in the moment. Yet, still failing.

Unless, maybe, you train for it?

Give up. It's a trade off. Some might say a sacrifice. But only such if what you give up is more than what you get in return.

A fallacy.

It's a selfish act.

It makes you feel good.

But, goddammit, how do you make them feel good if you can't enjoy it too?

Sometimes...

They are worth more than you.

Sometimes you are worth more than it all.

The hard part is the question.

I suppose that the hardest part is that you are never so far from dying then when you are ready to die.

Those moments are so few and far apart.

And always jealous of each other.

But the fear.
The fear...
It remains.

Fear is the greatest of emotions,
because it compounds the day.

It mocks the pain and forgives nothing.

The same nothing that is always Something.
The something you long to forget.
The something that you should.
The something that should be something.

We understand nothing because nothing needs no explanation!

But, fuck. It should.

Don't we deserve that? To stand up to fear?

We do. But not if we allow fear the power it so desperately desires.

Which I do on account of me.

Probably because I'm scared as fuck.

In which case...

I deserve it.