Little Weirds(7)

But this afternoon it is this: A day at the beach was never so dull as it is now. Without a person to love, I am too full of what must be let out, and while at least I can use my mind enough to bring out this image of this sea, it feels like life is the beach in the winter. It feels like life is the beach where I used to go with someone who died. It feels almost wrong to be here . . . I feel like I am wearing a bikini and the weather is forty degrees and the sky is that screaming winter white and it is all I can do to just stand still and try to remember why I am here. It is all I can do to not pack up and leave.





I Want to Look Out a Window

I want to look out a window at something bright and wide, and at that point accept my nature and understand my intended use and have a clean shirt and clean hands and feel similar to a small planet.

I want to be in a fine wooden house by the sea and to have a big sweater.

I want to be a baby fawn on the lawn, to have spots on my coat that remind people of a mousse-y and chilled refrigerator dessert, and also shock onlookers by reminding them of how young things are able to be, so young that they are closer to energy than flesh.

When people get a glimpse of me I’d like them to feel like it is a good omen.

I want to have a face with dirt on it. I want to jump on people!

I’m beginning to suspect that I swallowed a rollercoaster and it is lodged between my heart and my stuff.

Am I too big or too small or too much or too little?

I have always known that I would die for love. I think I am dying while or because of waiting for it. I cannot bear how it feels like a surging throng of beats and yells and gasps inside of my small form. I have wondered on many occasions if any confidence I have is just a weird side effect of foolishness and I live under the weight of so much embarrassment, I’m surprised the top of my head isn’t flat.

If I planted my pussy in the ground right now it would grow into a tree of flaming swords with a moat of tears around it.

What is my diagnosis?





I Died: Valentine’s Day

Well, I just died.

What do they say? They say, “That’s that.”

Yes. That is that.

I woke up and it was Valentine’s Day and I was lying in my bed and my body was the shape of a melting chair. I was actually just a melting chair with nobody left to sit in it. I was a useless ruined form yelling SIT ON ME PLEASE PUT YOUR WEIGHT ON ME in a worthless pointless voice that sounded like a fart under the covers.

Sometimes there is something mean living in me and this mean thing gets a sick pleasure from harsh punishment and frightening imagery about who I am or what I should do.

I experience a lot of difficulties.

I died that day that I knew was Valentine’s Day and I knew it was Valentine’s Day because it has always been my goal to be in love and to get a proper valentine and to not be lonely but to have someone who loves me so much that they miss me when I’m not there.

A psychic recently looked right into the eternal cosmos and then returned to me with this elegant yet cryptic message: Grow up.

I’m stuck here in a cycle and I am getting older but I am not growing up and my heart is getting soft dark spots on it like a fruit that has gone bad or is soft because too many hands have squeezed it but then put it back down not because I am not ready but because they were not ready for my type of fruity flesh. I felt so ripe and sweet—what was off? The truth is, I was forcing myself into people’s mouths. I jumped out of their hands and into their mouths and I yelled EAT ME way before they even had a chance to get hungry and notice me and lift me up.

I died and it was Valentine’s Day and I was saying “I ruined everything,” because that’s what the meanie in me wanted me to say and I had no more strength to stop that sappy speech.

I was using all of my strength to be a melting chair.

I stayed there in the shape of the bad chair and I thought about how I used to have a husband and we had a few absolutely A+ Valentine’s Days. But that was not enough. Grow. Up.

I stayed in the shape of the melting chair and I didn’t protect myself at all. I wasn’t careful while the cruel part of my psyche dealt me these thoughts. I let it get so far that soon the thoughts were not just within me but were the main citizens of my world and they were mobilizing and marching to get me.

They came up from under the bed, they wrapped my body up, they pushed my eyes in and choked me. I had only a few breaths left and it was enough of a clear emergency, the kind of emergency that can cause an end. I made myself get out of my dead bed and I said, You stop being this chair now!

But it was too late and when I went to the bathroom to look in the mirror to see if I was very sick or not, I saw dark circles not just around my eyes but all around my life and I did think things like If you die, nobody will care for the dog, and other things like You’re not even good at caring for the dog and he’s bored with you and your beauty is gone and you didn’t appreciate it when you had it and you’re still too dumb to even locate when that window of beauty even was.

Soon my face was just two dark brown circular indents with a fish mouth.

I thought about how one Valentine’s Day an old bad boyfriend gave me his own old digital camera and stuck it in a sock so that I could unwrap it, and then he went out and bought himself a new camera, and then we broke up a few months later. And you know what? I have been waiting for a good love for a really long time and I have been lying in order to be a part of something for almost forever, and actually it feels better to just give the whole thing a big NO THANK YOU in the form of passing right away.