354/365

look at all these bodies:
tanned and taught
white and burned, flabby
and loose. young and old
fresh and faded- carrying
us in and out of the sea.
stuffed with food and drink
only to shit it out to start again.
flexing, sucking in, and pushing out.

having washed the salt from his hair
a quiet one sings a familiar song at home,
whispering over inaudible chords:
flyin' mother nature's silver seed
to a new home in the sun.

satisfaction was never
meant to be so byzantine.
folding ourselves inside out  
hoping that maybe the inside
feels more comfortable
on the outside. and these
rest ready husks rejuvenate
closer to the heart
and other vital organs.

161/365

i used to have a drink
and before i could even
feel what it felt like,
i’d have another one
and another one
and another one,
until you were all gone
and i was alone
in the oblivion,
empty bottles
full ashtrays
vomit on the floor
on my shirt.
the music
the only tether,
from complete
erasure.  

there’s little patience
in youth, little trust,
little restraint. just
relentless devouring.

thursday:
a school night,
a martini,
a negroni,
neil young singing:  
dream up
dream up
let me fill your cup
with the promise of a man,
two people
maybe one,
will recognise
the significance
of that line.

sitting on the edge,
wisdom tells us
to enjoy the ride.
see what
this
high can do.
ride it
to its mellow crash.

71/365

it took forever to get a cab.
we played rock and roll music all night
but we were all a little off
i couldn’t hit the notes.

started with:
a beer,
a martini,
two island iced teas,
and a bottle of wine.
a few whiskeys afterwards.

it took forever to get a cab.

listened  to neil young—
    see the lonely boy, out on the weekend
    trying to make it pay
    can't relate to joy, he tries to speak and
    can't begin to say.

and lady gaga—
    turning up emotional faders
    keep repeating self-hating phrases
    i have heard enough of these voices
    almost like I have no choice.

and phoebe bridgers—
    walking scott street, feeling like a stranger
    with an open heart, open container
    i’ve got a stack of mail and a tall can
    it's a shower beer, it's a payment plan.

i was bold and weak.
sure and empty.
the front man and the wallflower.

it took forever to get a cab.
we played rock and roll music all night