Archive | January 2013

Why Are You So Quiet?

I’m sorry, was I supposed to be loud? Am I expected to verbally express my opinion on every little nuance at the same moment you do?
No.
Don’t you dare look at me with that punitive face, as if you’re internally asking yourself, “Why is this guy so strange? Here I am, as loud as can be, providing the perfect opportunity for social interaction, and he still says only two words accompanied by a (thinly veiled) pity laugh.”

There is nothing here, at this job, or anywhere else, really, that requires me to partake in your aggressive, obnoxious conversations. If you would really like to talk, let me bring up the article I read on my break, about how scientists are closing in on a way to store massive amounts of data in DNA. Let’s discuss why this is important, if it is important at all, and marvel at how small we are compared to scientists with multiple PhD.’s, and more brain cells than half this staff. No? Oh alright. Well then by all means continue with your re-cap of how drunk you were last Saturday, or the newest episode of whatever show everybody is watching. Don’t expect me to participate. Don’t expect me to feel bad when you start referencing things I do not care about, and then please, oh God please, do not look at me as if there is something wrong with me for not being as well versed in pop culture as someone such as yourself. It is after all, “pop” culture. I don’t care this week, and you won’t care next week.

I do not do well when I am expected to answer an obnoxious, response loaded question in front of people. What am I, a fucking show horse? There’s a reason I am keeping my hat low and head down while this flock of sheep spouting their weekend plans forms around me for some unknowable reason. “We’re gonna have fun tonight!! Right Brett??” I don’t know, I don’t care. You will probably have the same weekend you’ve been having for the last few months. That my friend, is what I would enjoy talking about, because that, is human nature.

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Hunger

Another day at work,
Another 8.5 hours to ponder,
Why,
Can’t I smile in the face,
Of impending hunger.

My stomach is full,
I’ve just had quite a meal,
There were flavors and tastes,
Sensations I didn’t think I would feel,
But dessert’s on its way,
And my palate wont have ever been cleaner,
Oh I know,
Next time I am hungry,
I won’t want to eat here.

Don’t get me wrong,
The menu’s delicious,
Atmospheric and comfortable,
The restaurant relaxes me,
As I visit,
The foods that I know,
Love and then inevitably,
Limit,
I ate as slow as could,
The flavors were exquisite.

White Smoke

The white smoke,
Curls in my lungs,
As my stomach is contracted,
Smooth,
Wisps wisp near the whiskers,
Of my face,
Caressing,
Saying,
“Welcome back here.”

Right Now

Right now,
I feel lost,
I feel alone in a desert,
It’s widened for miles,
And I cannot see through the haze,
That bellows from my throat,
For fear of stepping on something,
That could be oh so fragile,
I stay right where I know,
In the silence, I’m agile.

Lost and depressed,
I’ve figured them to be separate,
Depression lives in your head,
And,
That’s where I kept it,
I seek out sun to nullify the affects,
Of being lost,
Still following directions,
That I know will only lead me,
Deeper into depression.

But if the bigger they are,
The harder they fall,
And picking yourself up,
Gives you experience,
And,
‘Makes you strong’,
Then I think I’d like to see,
Where it’s so easy,
To go wrong.

In a Vacuum

The rhythm is gone,
Now with you not along,
By my side as we ride,
This ride of our song along,
I have no right to come find you,
No right to even have you in my head,
Not after the shit that I did,
Not after the shit that I said,
Telling you that I loved you,
And then leaving instead.

I hated being controlled,
I hated being a ‘baby’,
I was someone who could change a decision,
You molded me to say maybe,
I conformed,
I sat back,
I watched as you showed be what a lady,
Truly could be,
And now I find myself jaded.

What I think that we had,
Was an incarnation of beauty,
The energy of our youth,
The newness of a new college building,
Together with a Disney-cast group,
Individuals who all needed some form of learning,
Literally from scratch we created,
The perfect world,
For our passion to keep burning.

But perfection is balance,
And I threw it all off,
I thought we were strong enough to handle,
The force of my cough,
I relapsed in the winter,
You remember,
The sweater,
We designed it together,
In the coldest of weather.

I stand here accused,
Guilty by my own conscience,
But honestly I was used,
To fill the other side of a locket.

You came to me broken,
I wrote poems and stories,
I brought you back into the light,
I know I saved you from torrents,
Of depression and misery,
And now you have me all worried,
Maybe I did something terrible.

I remember my heart,
Way before you,
It had been shattered,
Stomped into pieces,
And with no more love,
I was forced to use glue,
But in healing myself,
With no guide or direction
I found truth,
And there’s a slight possibility,
I didn’t make much space for you.

Not on purpose!
My dear,
I wanted to love you,
But you never even knew me,
And alone I got lonely,
I know that half my existence,
Was stuff you never cared for,
I was so very careful to check myself,
At your door,
So that I wouldn’t disturb the balance,
And we could again end up,
On the floor,
But day after day in those same sheets,
I could pretend to be someone else,
No more.

Nice Guys

I think nice guys finish last for an unseen reason. When you finally cross the finish line, last place is the only position that has had a full, in depth view of the entire race.

Assholes up front can’t even fathom what us back here have come to terms with. And they never will. Their children will grow up to be pompous and self serving, but behind a veil of soup kitchens and charities.

The nice guys will wait, many pondering the question of whether they should continue down this path, a path where they watch everything they cherish and value disintegrate before the piercing reality of the assholes.

Eventually the nice guys will become assholes, and only a handful will remain as the essence of kindness in the human spirit.

It is only with the right woman that love will prevail above all else.

These are my beliefs.

That

I think I can see souls,
The intentions in a human’s flawless complacency.

It is that.
It has to be that.
It must be that.
It is either that,
Or,

I am helplessly adrift.

Charting the waters,
In a sea of equally shallow conquistadors.