2011

I'm 31 and I live in Florida in a one bedroom apartment I share with a coworker. I sleep on the living room couch.

If you follow me I can show you exactly where it all went wrong…

It was a cucumber sandwich on the beach of the Black Sea.

Sand in my teeth

or wait maybe it was the watermelon seeds from last winters last meal.

In any case

I was mixing low grade ecstasy into a glass of whiskey when all of the sudden

I remembered my best friend yelling over a pay phone at me 9 years prior “this isn't a fucking Burroughs novel Julia” and slamming the phone.

I dont know about that, it could've easily been a bestseller, except he was dead and I didnt have a pen to write with.

So there's that,

I thought

Yeah

Let's see

How words survive…

They can spend centuries atop our barbed wires

Render us useless in our mutterings

we make in the hopes to retire in a quote.

And

Eyelids are fenders

That crash

Into strangers

In the hopes of explosion

But all we end up getting

is ourselves caught in crypts and gravestones

And here I am

Where the fire escapes are fire hazards

Where the alley ends and meets my throat

sore from screaming into a scream and 2 blocks past the pizza parlors,

coffee shop teenage tragedies

and hipsters with cracked voices.

I’ve got a morticians lens eye view of the strangers finely tuned to a beat my heart forgets to ache to

Crazy impossible nothings

This is the border

I come to at the end of the page

This is my impulsive army

All the incarnations of me