~
I’m almost completely certain I can do it.
The only doubt lies in the foundation of this certainty.
I must be certain because I have proven the ability to do it before.
I’m certain of repetition. I’m certain of spontaneity.
I must be certain because I am strong.
I believe in strength. I believe in tenacity.
I’m certain of a reality I can’t yet see.
-
I’ve lost a lot of faith, but finally released.
It’s been some time since I’ve camped out in the past.
I’m tripping on my feet. I’m not spinning.
No longer languid, exactly, perhaps a little dizzy.
-
I used to think North ment Up,
East meant right,
And South was always behind you.
-
Since I’ve landed,
(note the lack of falling)
And the dread has left my body,
I’m making this left turn ascending.
With not anxiety or dread
I have but just certainty
Soon to be solidifying.
Dude, a haiku.
Life is the shit bro.
Smoking O’s and burning wood.
Only my dog cries.
Can I just say,
I really hope you and I become good friends and can go on, maybe, an adventure or two this summer. We are both mourning something or other, we both take our pills, we both have some sick secrets, and we both have incredible linage, it only makes sense for you and I to get together and feel alright. You’re a sun sponge, I’m a sun sponge, let’s drive for hours until we find the perfect spot to soak up some compassion and take in the UVs. No expectations, just company. The kind that you keep.
And do me a huge favor, pretend I didn’t just say any of that.
I was ten when I first realized,
that the universe didn’t end.
I couldn’t comprehend infinity,
so I just cried instead.
I wish I could be at your funeral.
But I’d probably just steal your corpse and live with your decaying body in the Rockies. Too bad you can’t connect to wifi so far underground. I don’t understand how people can vanish, no longer present. Buried. I bet you’re playing ball with asteroids and black holes. You’re a dream.
When the love of your life dies, you hide.
You hide, and then you die.
Your body bubbles and erodes
Melting yourself into a puddle.
Then you dry out and
you’re nothing but a dust bunny.
I hope the heaven you believed in
involves me.
—
If I can’t use you, I’ll muse you.
You, the smooth marbled pebble
On the shore of a rock beach.
I’ll braid you in my hair, like ribbon.
I’ll sweat you through every pore.
You keep me cool in heat,
You’re a fever to me.
I can’t let you go, so I’m taking you with me.
Everything tastes awful. Everything looks ugly. Everything sounds stupid.
Nothing is comfortable. Everything itches.
Everywhere is crowded. Anywhere else sucks.
It doesn’t fit. This doesn’t feel good.
How can I be so tired, even now that the days are long?
So unimpressed with all this disappointment.
I don’t finish anything. I’m never finished, yet.
Why would I want to be a respected academic,
When I could have a respected opinion, trusted authority?
Flirt with the corporations, the politicians,
And some of the most pitiful of all.
Shit’s not going to inspire its self.
Birthday acceptance speech.
I’d like to thank my mother, who birthed me from her vagina in 30 degrees without AC. I’d like to thank my father and all his failed spermies, you guys did your best but you can’t compete with this. I’d like to thank the Kaj family genes for allowing me the privilege of the Mediterranean tan along with freckles and my cute ass. I’d also like to thank the White side for all the childhood adventures in Newfoundland and my coloured eyes. And shout out to the mailman who must have been tall because all the other females in my family are shorties.
A perched bird interrupted my sleep taking me away from my preferred pseudo reality and into this more dimensional realm.
But I don’t blame the birds for singing. Hell, I’d sing for the spring dawn, too, if only I could hold a delicate note.
To my surprise I awoke with my heart there on the pillow.
And I smiled.
And I was thankful.
I am in a perpetual state of almost lost.
however; it’s a lingering certainty
which reminds me I’m not,
for the while.
I couldn’t help but find that,
When you live in multiple places,
you become very intimate with
everything you own.
With shades pulled for the rainy season,
I was born unseasonably warm.
To expand upon:
Loving myself, and why I should actively make an effort to do more of it.
And after: How One Falls in Love With the Exact Definition of Everything They Hate.
Alternatively titled: Mirror, Mirror On The Wall, where on Earth Did We Go Wrong?
—
all of my favourite
fellow cynics have escaped
to become lovers.
With my fingers
With my fingers
I drew your name
on someone else’s back.
I cannot help but shake under the amount that I need spring. I keep waiting for the signs to start showing. The mud. The breeze that does not chill, but refreshens you.The sun setting after your day ends, not with it. It’s not easy to see the rain and be able to always think positively, but I can listen to the rain, which makes it wonderful.
The day I can be awoken by bird chirping, lawn mowing, or just sun beams-