void

i don't feel good

buddy

hey, buddy. 

i thought it might be fun to write you a new-classic missive, a take on the old-fashioned ways, but i wouldn't really be able to do that anyway, the true blue old-timey communication method, because my hands, after years of typing and penmanship neglect, from wrist to finger-tip, have become boneless mush. this is the up-to-date version of old-fashioned, which is to say, an email is today's "letter," do you know what i mean? i ask that and do not want an answer. 

she twists and she whirls, dismissing it all away... 

one way or the other, i suppose the above quote from a new wave classic is true, though i actually missed the entire thing when it came out, because i was lost in space - and here i am calling it a classic - and not only am i not missing the notion of dismissing it all away, i am, in fact, at the doorway of the closest antonym of dismissing it, which would be to engage. anyway, i have engaged in that song, dismissing it all away, because not only is it true, it sounds shiny. it sounds... magnificent. 

of course i wonder, what was i thinking? being "too gone" for something so pretty seems absurd, but then again, i was and am. is it such a surprise? nah. 

that can't be answered, but what i can tell you, if you ever want to know, beyond supposing, would be what it is i am thinking. i'll tell you that (those, i suppose, one way or the other) any day of the week in slow motion, painstakingly so, to the point where we are both desensitized by time and realize how silly and obscure momentum is. 

all is well, and i hope with thou. 

peace, 
ann

spirit

it left itself behind, but i still held tight
carrying what - i could never know
year late revelations are empty
and i wish i'd never tried
so hard to overlook
the obvious

i keep confusing
forgetfulness with forgiveness
i keep confusing
obsession with adoration

i'm out of crowds
and crawling
skin

-----

one more time with this timeless track:

"...relax and walk on by"

i've put so many posts in drafts on my "public" blog, i finally realized, NO DOY, GO TO YER ANNEX BLOG, DUMBO

WHY DON'T YOU ENCOURAGE ME TO BE HAPPY?

i do not think she made the cut for a scorpio
by the skin of its teeth, at the time, it did work
everything i did similar, was long suffering, yet

cross-eyed
cyclical, diluted
obsessively sleepy
i made my own self
dizzy, and you liked
that for some reason

she was in the realm
of sorta and kinda
i said nothing

and vanished


"El-Producto, now wild boy stuff, spittin' dust
 Pain and rain, we know angels dump
 El-Tornado on all y'all chumps"

-Run The Jewels

he was speeding around the corners, and i said,
dude, i get it, you're a fast driver, but i'm not ready for heaven
he said, heaven... laughed at that, i said, that's right, son, that's exactly right
well, and if you were hovering above in the clouds, you wouldn't have liked any of it

i just don't do comparisons, and if i suspect carbon copies, or me being put in the stack

i'm out.

like he said:

"Don't doubt we will mow down you dogs
 No clout to spend here at all, we will now clown you all
 Go shout it to the gods, "RTJ's arrived
 To make your minion cry!", burn our image in her eyes
 Better get a little bit of that zen shit in ya
 I'm a long hitter, but defile the fuck outta frog rap dinner
 How the fuck El-Produc' get bigger, better, meaner?
 Living like a sinner, mean demeanor
 Eat a bleeding, screaming, mean leader
 Back to the ether (ether, ether, ether)"

-Run The Jewels

ether.

just like Leif V. says, too, right?

i said, "do you like music?"

he said, "not as much as you," through laughter -
well, i laughed too, because, i like to hear that i'm crazy with it.
pointing out the obvious like that, i like that, i like to hear that i'm crazy with it.

pragma
logica

our female gods -

the leaves are gold, and i wonder.

---
the internet is so fucking stupid. it's all deceit, and i'm not talking about the news. i'm on the verge, yo. i've been saying it for years, but dang, i just feel it calling me - the wild. the most feral thing one can do is bounce.

zing zang zoop, a whole lotta goop

"will i always be here...?"
dm

well, no. you won't.

i forgot what i liked about you. that's such a shitty comeuppance.

:)

i just feel like: stfu.

make sense?

diary bloo bloo

this week is too hot
so much going on - i hate it
sigh
the amount of driving around
and "programs" and stuff, and
it blasting in my face: the kids are growing up
yea, i get it, asshole, stop reminding me, it hurts
anyway
i just got the summer "splash pass" for the pool, so at least we have that
but it'll whiz by, i know how this goes, it's been doing this for thirteen years
i sigh all day long, don't i?

the novelty of not taking advil pm anymore has worn off

i'll keep on, but i don't wanna

i hold off on the future by lingering in the past, that way i forget everything

it's a beautiful day, and as usual, i wish i could anesthetize myself totally numb
another day, another wish unfulfilled on that tip, but i do want it, to be here, but not

no doy

tones on tails and ten o'clock
ticking up, trailing behind, the flippant froth
of loose feathers, scraps for a flyaway nest, falling foul
sending seriousness over the fence where all useless senses lie

i'm in this whole - fuck photos. fuck the past. fuck the internet. fuck people. their abrasive opinions. and so on.

do not cooperate, it'd be best
the forecast let me down, where's my gloom?
mostly cloudy means excruciating rays of sun on and off day
in hiding, i dream
a play on a phrase: 
people often mistake my weakness for kindness (hahaha)
so true
so, so true
false is bearing
an evening out in glee
downing that pint to stand 
a fatigue scrubbing me barely
there
sleeping cyclical, i'm my champion
self-sustained in strange skeptisism
even you - 
a deluge of affection means a drought
tomorrow, you'll pout when i'm all out

risqué is risky
don't you dare
react so laissez-faire

unless you want me to

retreat into my lost lair 

i've got my key in the lock, ready to turn

comfortable bed of nails

i'll just be over here
dissatisfied tepid with 
the curl of a rainy stem
don't you fucking  dare
don't  you fucking dare
make me say It twice

and when you're full
stuffed, beached with
my affection, you get limp 
and unrealized on the pattern
of how well i am with table cloths
paisley with my late '80s undergrowth

i can change everything without you noticing
with a swift pull-out of something nonessential
in that moment
it's do or die
in the day-
by-day 

but it's the entire foundation, which nobody cares about until the house breaks. 

i think that word is overused and cheesy

"karma"
is a world
...just a word
but it's oceanic
of army, science's
basic math, action's
vengeance or reward
whatever
you "do" will
be boomeranging
a reaction, directly
resulting from how
you handle  people
and  even objects

if you're hurting
even if you're
feeling so 
wronged
and friction's
got you itchin'
for some justice-

hey, yo, this is a red flag
this is where we fuck up
squish the bug, your ego

may-be next time
it'll work itself out
(hint: it will)
and you won't have
to say ya got burned

we do it to ourselves.

the infested

birch, peeling on my fingers
undressing a bitch, an onion
you keep on talking beneath
in your composite of human
you are just like everybody
you are just like everybody
except

U G L Y as sin
just ask god, man!

ask our lord and savior, trick!

i'm kidding, but you paint a rebel
but what i see is a freaking sheep

you repeat the same ole bullshit story
never taking responsibility that maybe
you're just a really selfish human-being
who gets mad when she doesn't get her
                                                      way

drag 'em
drag 'em

ask yourself
with every "like" 
are you living real? 
what are you selling? 
hey, dude
you're no Foster Wallace

when you  can't move  forth
from the songs  of your  dorky
heyday, it is embarrassing,  and
i've said it before, and  i'll say it
again, them's fighting words, we
the royal, you understand, want
proof
i watch you rewrite the story 
there's just no fucking way
man

nice formula
you stole it from 
a stereotype, man

just. like. you. 

you're a writer alright
who goes to school to learn how to find an imagination that never existed? 
who goes to school to learn how to find an imagination that never existed? 
your paper brings nothing
paid in cash for your "gift" 
some call that cheese
and you're a mouse
look in the mirror

jeez, you are literally
dragging the dead and
dying through the mud
       oh, you love them? 
hoe, you love sympathy
you've certainly got mine
only be-cause you're Ugly
how do you sleep at night?
the muck you made yourself
by watering other people's pain
calling it your own, but we know
you emulate - it's fucking obvious
a narcissist 
works a program
i wish it was just 12-steps
so you would be done already

but we keep enduring your
paint chipped, scumbag, trash
nails on a published chalkboard

well, i'm not afraid to admit that
i don't have a lick to give the world
i hoard my lollipops for the hot core
and claim to be nobody and nowhere

a plume of ego hovers over 
your head, you think it's a halo
but it's a nuclear
mushroom cloud of shit-talking
name-dropping, style  stealing
eat, pray, love, wordy drivel

that's as high as you could reach, huh? 

i double dog dare you to 
try and change my mind

YOLO

we each had the scuba suit, flippers and oxygen
and wonder if it'll run out on us, while we explore
will our lips turn blue?
and if i look pretty dead
please take a photograph
and post  it on  facebook

but use your fingers, pretend
         like when we were kids

like when i played "girls on film" as  a child
in my friend's mom's dresses and high heels

make a square, okay?

black pearl eyes 
saucer pupils, from thee...
oh, just the drugs i take in secret 

wink, wink
baby, i'm gonna
probably overdose
one       fine        day

i'm counting down

you can stop me
is an illusion i'll 
let you believe 
at my church

you don't know one 
thing about...

time

but she smiles the same
and i'm joking about all that...

she asked if her eldest really loved her
because his card ended in "sincerely," not "love,"
it was just... so... formal... 
she shivered all day, wondering if she was a shit mom
                                                    that it had all caught up

he wrote "i guess" after each "compliment" 
not one heart, not one affectionate term
hey, he's just a teen, get used to it!

oh.

i know a coping mechanism, it's speaking in the third person

the masseuse said: 
any injuries i should know about? 
i laughed uncontrollably - spit came out
spit 
you think spit is gross
because the word is "spit" - so it's rational
we are conditioned to react certain ways 
                                              to words

saliva is "fine"
spit is just gross

i feel like skepticism has finally boiled over into paranoia
everything seems cultish, everyone's panhandling my soul

something i don't even believe in anymore 
because of what i said above - it's cyclical

oh, they think i'm unhealthy with my macabre perspective
with my moods, my vanishing acts, how i come out with strings
one minute it's hilarious - the next i'm looking in the berating mirror

U G L Y 
DUCKLING

waiting for björk

i signed the dotted line years ago - 
abiding by agreements, but hiding in attics
jumping down when i hear them coming for me

oh! hi! 

why was your door locked? 

there have been so many casualties, i lost count
and i remember the first time i asked them to stop reading
i'd just feel more comfortable, if... if you didn't know who i really am

what kind of person i am

i learned i was evil and going to hell freshman year - 
just because 
just because!
that's the cruelty of it
and within twenty years i became an atheist to deal with that one

i'm talking about why cows don't push through wooden fences that aren't barbed 
there's a reason
and those confines
keep them from death

you don't know the sacrifices i make for people that i don't even believe love me

or even like me for that matter
and that obviously includes you

every threat sluices a river through me
and i don't have the tools to build a bridge

when i talk about panic
when i talk about going down for months
under the covers, incapable of even jogging, making dinner
when i talk about "what's the point of living if we're all going to die?" 

i mean it

late bloomer
and for the greater good
i don't say what i am going to do
if it is drastic, i simply begin the process
and hope i will change my mind at some point

mom always said, actions speak louder than words
and i like to think i am at least - at least - a good daughter

maybe you're right
and if that's the case, i should hear you, and abide by your wishes

caper, keys

but if you're looking for me
barefoot in the crimson desert
a wing dangling, almost dragging
missing all its feathers, but just one
keep on, i'll be
shackled down with twilights of painless
hallucinations - your life's video flickering
a double exposure for absurdism in my own
i will rationalize 
easy on the eyes
eyes on the eyes
growing on Lies
until you twist my arm back to my death valley
calling out the elephants
i fucking begged you 
to shut up about
so i
leave swatches of myself needlessly for a puzzle
with an irritating picture, missing tons of pieces

the exposed guts of what's beneath burning
in the acrid pollution of nice adjectives
meant to tear it all off at once
and be festered in love
but the meat's
tough
still -
we think we're reaching out
trembling underneath sleep paralysis
under a blanket of semi-unconsciousness
the cool air of awake is unreachable, but it's
right... there...
we are pushed down
and must fearfully retreat-
wonder if we'll ever wake up
and
crawl out of the top we covered in tangles of junk
of some mysterious "protection" that began at birth

the ink drizzling from our tear ducts is a dusky forest
full of midnight pleas - cries for some kind of contact

it's primal

you've been candying in my heart since i can recall

but there is only room for one of us to fall apart
i choose me
i choose me

i don't have a choice...
                    did you 
take shelter from my stormy dress of standoffish, undying devotion with methodical umbrellas of emotional dehydration? 

refill

you used deliberation
under the spell of a minute thought
ready for the consequences of my attention
my keen eye will burned under a magnifying glass
hovering by your hand, no escape, aimed towards me

and to think i sheltered you from the most basic of tasks

dilation dilutes reality
and i don't want to see the shit you do
but i always know and conjure up the cruelty

as i innocently go about
mothering myself to death

feelings come in waves, so i head for the bow and hold tight
taking space in grotesque gusts, i've been gazing into the fog forever
i'll never forget that feeling
my feeble fists balled up
grabbing at my share
of
nothing
of
nothing
i was
replaced
she
was a never
before, you said

i felt every soft touch and look
heard the loving words you her
but
i've never
oh
i've never
done that

and i'm the bad one

you said "never"
you said "never"

when i'm taking the sour
out of the lime, you get mad
and turn it all around on a dime

heads or tails?

chasing, either way
i'd rather do that with vicodin
oh lord, it's a crying shame that i can't

i know a world
that shuts you out

in this solitude, every interruption is a reason for a complete fucking meltdown

outside of
this bubble:

i would ache
i would feel pain

and i would show up
negative, unsustainable
until redirected into self-
reflection, retracing steps

solitude in abrasive chaos