three beers later

i wear a cubs shirt,
so
they try to speak to
me,
the couple selling hotdogs
in front
of the bar.

her husband
is from chicago,

so i say
"yeah",
and give them
the weakest
thumbs up
i could muster.

in here,
i purchase
a beer,
and am introduced
to these two guys
i've already been
introduced to
before.

one minute
of indifferent conversation
passes by,
before
i walk outside
for a smoke.

i study these people
outside,
50 something year old guys
with long
and dying gray hair,
trapped,
in their twenties.
girls
in their twenties,
trapped in some
rock' n' roll
video dream.

nobody here
is going anywhere,
except
back to this bar.

i find some open space,
begin my second
beer,
and the girl
to my left
wants to talk
to me.

and there's just nothing
i want to say
to her, or
to the wounded dreamers, nor
to coctail waitress
with the very small
skirt.

this summer
has already been
long enough.

every piece of a lie,
every self-sale,
every introduction
has already been
spoken, tonight,
and every single night
since
the the birth
of the first desire.

as politely
as i can,
i finish my beer
and navigate
through
a maze
of people,
until i find myself
back
on the outside.

to begin the next

you just
want to wear
the inside
of her hand,
like it was yours.

it's one of those
days
that there are storms,
hovering, over
the breath
of phoenix.

she's nowhere
to be found.

she won't return
your texts,
your emails,
your prayers.

you've done something
wrong.

she's gone.

you will never
hold her face
between
the skin
of your hands.

you know this,
worse
than than that one,
that
always make you
cry.

she's gone,

and all you can do
is spy on that valley
of lights
below,
and initially begin
imagining
the next.

laughing through walls

the walls
were skinnier
than i thought.

on the other side,
all i could hear
was your laughter.

you were with
the neighbors,

i was laid
on my side,
with my black hoodie
protecting my head,
in our apartment,
listening
to your happiness
eating through
the cinder block
wall.

i wasn't wondering
how
you could be laughing.

i was just trying
to remember
what we were fighting
about.

how explosives are made

you craddle
this grenade
within the heat
of your hands
like it's some jesus.

you guard
this grenade
with every ounce
of
fight you have
in you,
like it's your only
religion

but every once in awhile
you meet someone,
and the conversation
is good.
you are distracted
by their shine,
and all you want to do
is hover
in their shimmer.

nothing else exists.

but it's then,
when you forget
about that grenade
resting in your hand.

and you notice the pin,
dangling,
on the other person's
finger.

monolith

i think
if we close our eyes
really, really tight,
tight enough
not to let any light
in,

we can pretend
that we were
never there.

maybe
we could imagine
that there was never
any bed
where we played with dreams
until we molded them
into ours.

maybe those cities
and towns
that we captured
had no flag, and
and we were left
with the make believe.

but it's then,
at that moment
where
my eyelids
begin choking my eyes,
and everything inside
my brain
hurts.

it's then,
when i open my eyes,
and all that i can see
is everything i remember.

metamorphosis

it's that inbetween
stage, where
the amount of cigarettes
consumed,
just seems absurd.

where
the time wasted
on the internet,
on those three sites,
the ones where you just
click
back and forth
like ping pong,
and nothing happens.

when you realize you've thrown away
another night
down
life's neck.

the thoughts
are still there,
plotting to eat
what little sanity
you have left,
though they have just
a little less hunger
these days.

and
you notice
the fog
begin to lift
its heavy breath,

enough so, that
right in front of you,
is a real live mountain,
presented
for you to climb.

and your ready,
little by little,
inbetween the nightmares
and vodka,

you resume charting
a map up that mountain.

and all that your going to leave
behind
is the shell
of your ghost.

we are the targets

we are all murderers,
assassins,
afraid of getting caught.

we kill people everyday,
with words,
with actions,
with excuses,
with nothing but an emotion
wrapped
in a thought.

we are breed to react
to what's right there
in front of our faces,
squishing hearts and
dripping toxins on minds
in the process.

we are consistant like this,
and it never matters how much
we love
this person or that person

we put on our clothes
in the morning,
one head and
one limb at a time,
just like any assassin.

and we never think
about how many stitches
our targets will need
as we walk away.