wednesday, early August 2004

3 strikes. strikes
across the heart
and you're out.

three strikes
why did i even
attempt

i come home. come
home. you break my
heart everytime. you
make me cry. i had to
get drunk before i could
see you each time. bar
tender knew it was
bad news. i saw it in
his eyes.

maybe she is better. i can
accept that. the dark
eyes. the strapless shirts.
she's got it - i see it -
but it still doesn't give you the
right to sit there silent
& make me feel like i
don't exist - i guess this is
where people move on. they
say - i've got mine, &
you've got yours. so long.

i found you, in a city of millions. sitting at
the bar where jimmy said you would be sitting.
sitting with your lady love drinking the same
whiskey you always drank, discussing matters of
business. worried they'll make your life hell
for stealing half a bottle of olive oil. you
see me - greet me, but again there's nothing
to say. i just got back from russia
again & i'm doing the rounds.

yes, you're part of the rounds, believe it or
not - i don't know why now. there'll
be no more crawling back now, boy.
i see it now clearly as day - we can't
be friends in this world that's getting
more & more scatterred. my heart
thunders these days but i feel more
human walking the earth alone anyway
i don't remember how to walk with
someone else.

i wrapped my feet so they
wouldn't blister. i drank plenty
before i let my best friend call
you on the phone, but it's the
same shit everytime. the same
disappointment. do you remember
what it's like to be alone? i've
always been like this, since i
can remember. i can't afford you
making it all hurtful again.
so, yes. goodbye. i know you've
already said it years ago, in her
arms & eyes. but i say it now with
confidence. i'm broken. you have
jumped ship. it's tragic, but
the ocean is infinite.

so this is it, right? what day is
today? it's wednesday. early august. and
i don't think my heart breaks anymore
i'm at a loss for words, though. i don't
really feel like it's a sensation that's
even worth writing about either, because
life is so manic. schitzophrenic like the
weather, it's probably kind of like the
feeling you get from fasting for a
long time or being oxygen-deprived
from climbing at high altitude. it's
the spit in the back of your throat &
then suddenly your tongue is numb & you
are no longer the mind looking out
through your eyes. all of a sudden
your visual perception, you notice, is
now in a separate place from your
mental processes. as if someone
started projecting a movie in your
head from behind your eyes.
you never walked
into the theater, though. you never
even bought a ticket.