"I will wake up in someone else's bones." -- Kaveh Akbar, from Calling a Wolf a Wolf

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alcoholism finds a way.

in your marrow was

the strangest stream--

i must've sunken

as i drank

no news MS

you'll never have a second to yourself i say as i sit alone fifty feet into this tunnel staring back at the half moon of light at the entrance i gave up concealing

"sometimes one will disappear into himself like a ram charging a mirror" --Kaveh Akbar, from Calling a Wolf a Wolf

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alcoholism charges.

i braced, had my hands in position, but

distracted with the feeling

of a silken hair on my cheek

i might as well have been

a pane of glass

--Kaveh Akbar, from Calling a Wolf a Wolf

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alcoholism is hard.

i hope there are ways

such as this

to keep me here.

MS unanchored

it starts with simple words burst from an air bubble that ghosted its way through saltwater: the diagnosis. you're young, and fit, and if anyone were to look you up and down they'd see the same, and if anyone were to ask you they'd be answering you. the medicine is good these days. the therapy: clear as a mirror. there's no reason for your mind to bend and snap, as long as you come back to the MRIs and the needle. but the bleakness of my mind doesn't quit burning, a town aflame beneath the tundra. down there, I prune a greenhouse of begonias which can cause kidney failure if ingested. it's comforting to know I have such beautiful outs: eat a leaf, or walk into the fire, or reject the doctor's mantra and machines. even better to know the more you're taken care of, the deadlier you become.

FALSE POSITIVE

Remember being called blind? The faint line of smoke from that shot? In dreams, the hearing goes on even when the sun enters the courtroom. In dreams, the affidavits are spoken by horses. But here you are, eyes open, feeling more asleep than ever, and someone sees it—your blindness, the white noise. Eventually your accuser becomes camouflaged, and you realize your blindness is specific, hinged yet unhinged like daylight stolen by a deep cave. Just hitch your knapsack and move on to a better cave, learn that eyes open in depthless dark is the same as eyes closed in the dark.

CONDITIONS

migraine pulses through the pith pinched in my front teeth there is no one answer but of course there's only one question, like "how does the world appear in a microscope?" "how long until I'm dead?" I'm remembering a Curious George book in which George sticks his head in ether, hungering to be woozy. I'm thinking the best way to go is while swimming laps between your mind's point A & point B. nothing more beautiful than sinking with exhaustion, the stars circling your skull pulling you into their reflection.

WARM+SAD

crowd crush, same emotion, nothing new. walked two miles to work just to breathe

before I asphyxiate in my box, lost hair to the asphalt along the way. buying boston

ferns to hang on my porch for the summer and fertilize the front yard for winter is the

next tradition. it's how I ensure the grass is greener beneath everything I build. if I tear it

all down I fear I wouldn't get around to clearing the rubble. I fear the countless

concrete clones sprouted from each slipped strand will come help me out but then pitch

tents on my turf, point to each other and say "that's the real you, they're to blame."

and I'd be right. and they'd be right. and I'd be too tired—just thinking about it—to argue.

UAP

Believe what you will - names are eyelashes shifting position, or today's news can't be fossilized without layering it with older news. Can't dim the lights in 2A from the ground floor so I kiss your wrists until I'm at the top of the ladder. Whatever words you're using hurt, shine like eyes back from rigor mortis and I'm belly-up on our bed questioning how sunken ships can be touched in the dark guiltlessly.

the anthurium blooms for the 3rd time this week and i'm still feeling useless at the cornerstore with 9 quarters shoveled up from my toyota's floormats. struck twice with lightning i sizzle, i stutter, i need low carb i need the change back please i need the roads slick & shiny so i can see the sky without looking up—a riddle-spine of desire easier to crush than a 24-oz aluminum can, than the anthurium spathe i need gone so the plant can focus on its foliage.

hey, here to write more

1/7 Favorite Books

Probs one of my faves ever @chucklingpecan