ill be counting.

a phantom family that walks within walls that don't crumble; that wont break. a home without windows or classy curtains with velvet bristles to drape. second thoughts are cruel; just one of life's greatest cruelties and they're always too late. a disease that makes you cold. a disease you cant shake. just a doggie door and a few bulletproof padlocks where her eyes used to be. i know this story so well its become a part of me. living vicariously, your own personal and my bleeding tragedy. you chew it up and let it brew then spit it back at me. she walks along a cobble stone path leading right up to the edge of a cliff. daily doses make this a routine of silver linings and sharp rocks one not worth keeping but the pretty walk along the cobble stone path is all you have so you hold it dearly.

or maybe it was you giving me some misplaced shred of mercy. your version of tossing scraps to the diseased dog before taking him out back. maybe you thought that if you told me just a piece; a sliver of what i wanted to hear that it'd be easier for you to hint at what was really going on inside your mind. i say 'hint' because even after all was said and done..you hadnt pulled the trigger. you probably assumed id pull it myself.  that it was so stark and bluntly obvious that it didnt actually need to be carried out. i just wanted you to tell me something real because the smile you wore wasnt how you felt or even close to how you feel. id rather you, at least, outline the reasons because asking you to fill it in with details and color would be too much to expect. i wish it was socially acceptable to handout a survey after something like this occurs. just to get a clear idea of what was or whats still going through the other person's mind after the fact. i mean, why not? why cant we be civil about it? why cant we take a step back and be adults. you fill out an evaluation form for a teacher at the end of the semester -even if the teacher failed you, dont you?. you still write comments for new restaurants even when the food and the service were both horrible, right?..why would a complete and custom relationship evaluation form be too much to ask for? in the pursuit of making yourself a better person, one is bound to come across challenges..and if you dont succeed the first time the only way you ever will is if you review your mistakes. but if youre still 'coming to' from the whole experience and you arent quite sure what your mistakes were then youre simply and really very fucked.  or maybe its that if you cant see your mistakes that you shouldnt be anywhere near the battlefield. that doesnt sound right..but it sounds safe. the kinda safe that reverberates inside the walls of a hydrogen balloon slowly pulling it back down to sea level like someone saying 'if everyone shot for the stars then there wouldnt be anybody left here on earth'.

when you think of a woman, what do you wanna see?
-i want to see someone that wears her scars on her sleeve but still stands up straight. that doesnt cover them up with poorly applied make-up and fake laughs. i want to see the ora of warmth that radiates around her but someone who can still be a fierce bitch when she needs to be..or when she just is. i want to see someone with the ability to make time stop by the trickling touch of a soft finger. i want someone that isnt afraid of the dark because theyve already discovered how bleak the the dim lighted corridors can get. i want to see her smiling like her body had no choice but to contort every muscle and move every bone in its right position for that particular smile..like its the only thing; like theres nothing else she'd rather do. id like to see the child-like twinkle in her eye, the dependable adult in her dimples and the fragile remains on her upper lip. i want to see her wearing superman's cape ready, seemingly at any moment, to fly.

i should have danced. i should have sung.
sometimes ill be right in the middle of a moment and something will happen where ill see different ways that i could react to that particular moment. as if individual holograms of myself float from my skin and carry out the different reactions i could go with. theres one thats flamboyant, edgy and daring. i rarely go with that one. theres another thats pretentious and pompous. usually trying moderately hard to impress you with something intelligent or poetic to say. and another thats dull and grey. exerting not much more than a half assed smile. most of the time i get caught/stuck watching the exuberant version as he continues on and on. dancing, entertaining for the one im with. i get enveloped by what hes doing and forget that the real me is still amid the actual moment comatosed at the sight of who i wish i was; by what is me; by what should be me but too much of a coward to, actually, be me. by the time im back the moment is slipping away and ive got to fumble for the reaction or action ill carry out. by the then its way to late to go with the first and im unconfident that ill be able to pull off the second with any kind of the cool, smooth nonchalant-ness needed for the effect. so its normally a stuttering cocktail of the second and the last.  the moment passes and im drawn into the world of what couldve been had i done it like this..or did it like that. which direction the conversation would have steered in had i did and what kind of moments would have followed if i had. and sometimes when im back at home and theres no one around i reenact the entire occurrence and preform the act i shouldve gone with as if hoping that one day a similar moment will surface and give me another chance to display the routine.  ive had those moments. and even then.. i dont.

cigarettes and oreos. i dont even know but if i had an answer to numb the sting -itd be that i wasnt anything but what is happening around me.

theres a full moon outside and im drunk. coherent enough to type at least..and enough to read it over and over again to make sure there arent any embarrassing typos.
my friend once said 'dont fear me, fear the full moon'..which hits pretty close to home for me..but the moon is always full when you cant tell the difference between the shadows and the light. when they both seem the melt together enough to blend into one continuous layer of shade, the illuminating light doesnt hold the same weight. it doesnt seem so brilliant.
so its late and im thinking of you. you said that we were so alike. that we were two very similar human beings but you couldnt stand me; you seemingly hated me. im afraid to tread along the rails of this route. to continue walking on this mental brick road. its dangerously narcissistic and profoundly self possessed to think that the problem lies on your side of the court rather than in mine but for the sake of taking this ride to the end and humoring this train of thought -ill continue..but make no mistake, this may be an incredible feat of self evasive ignorance and denial. you said that were so similar but you seemed to hate being around me. was it that you couldnt stand to be sitting next to another version of yourself?  do you not love yourself enough to love another one like you? is that why you 'fell in love' with the types of guys you went out with? the rich egoist that couldnt give a shit about your well being. the conceited jerk that didnt have space for you in his heart because he was too occupied living for himself. maybe they had enough money to satisfy your shallow superficial film of humanity. maybe you simply wanted to sit umbrella'd by his wing. well if thats what you wanted then fuck it and fuck you. i can love you because youre soft. you just refuse to show it. i can love you because i see you dive off the same cliff day after day after day and im amazed that no one will bother to notice. i never wanted to 'take care of you'..or baby you like some 50's american couple. i wanted you to have your own fulfilling life. i wanted you to be satisfied with your own accomplishments and achievements but find relief and a second wind in the synergy we create. i wanted to hold your hand and fly beside you. i dont want a lois lane but i much as i want to be your superman -i need you to be mine too.

someone told me that i shouldnt make expectations which sounds completely and utterly hopeless to me. what good is the knowledge you acquire and the richness of your past if you cant make assumptions or expectations about the future. but for the sake of giving into what i thought was best for the fantasy -i let go. i let go of my bright and shiny balloon and watched it float over the horizon. i watched it ascend into the grey clouds that were sure to be hovering over me anytime soon after that.  i watched it go. but i couldnt keep myself from chasing after it. once you arrived you immediately started throwing rocks and conjured curses to cast. you built an apparatus meant to create and bring life to the perfect storm. an atmospheric flood of citric acid and bitter vinegar. my balloon never had a chance like one of lindsay lohan's aborted babies. even after the storm when most of the real damage had already settled in, i couldnt help but seek out my recently abandoned balloon. its sad because even after you tried to shoot it down  -i had to find it and keep it. oh, but i found it and despite everything you did i cant let go of it. sheared and riddled with bullet holes i hold it and cradle it like a close friend dying in my arms. nuzzle it between the warmth of my arms and chest cavity like it was a part me. because it was. a part of me plagued by deadly virus. i know that if i stay with it -itll spread and seep to the other parts of me that have yet to be infected. but ill keep it anyway. a masochist in every sense of the word. a normal person would learn from you. maybe after a few lonely visits to the beach to watch the sunset or sulking alone at home in the shadows with a gallon of cookies and cream ice cream..or preferably, a box of white chocolate-covered oreos..they wouldve learned.  not me. im already 4 boxes deep and the chocolate hasnt even begun to numb the sting.
i waited for you after i dropped you off at the terminal. i waited just outside the sliding glass doors at the entrance of the airport. i waited until i saw your plane take off. all the while hoping id see you come running out through the gate with something beautiful and warm to say to me. i spastically turned to look at everyone that made it through the glass childishly praying for one of them to be you. there was a moment when i thought i saw you running through the gate with tears in your eyes and a look of relief draped over your face painted by he whom that couldve only been Monet himself. a face that conveyed the abrupt realization and acceptance of a negated and neglected love. my love. i saw you running with something dangling on the edge of your lips. maybe it was the kiss i was in dire need of. the sweet kiss i was quietly and patiently but painfully and anxiously waiting for. internally begging for with every square inch of my innards. i saw us clash together in triumphant joy with the force of two stampedes running directly into each other. i saw us kiss. i had seen it all in the span of just a few split seconds..but a stranger walked out and through your ghost dropping me from the clouds above and back onto the curb where i had been waiting the whole time. sitting, day dreaming the whole time.
as much as it pains me to say this and as much as right now i dont see this to be true, ill say it in hopes of it becoming true.. because right now, given the light im under and brooding shades that swallow my entirety, its the only way ill get myself over you.

at the end of the day maybe you'll turn out to be just like your mother.
im sorry, R.



i cant even bring myself to end on that note. i want you. i want you because youre warm. i know you to be soft. but the past 8 days havent given me any evidence to support that claim. we fought and kept a distance like a tired old couple. a bitter cold pair that can barely stand to be near each other after so many years of love and affection but we skipped right over all good parts. a couple that know each other so well that even when theyre not together they can feel the other by their side.  i need you because i see you dive off the same cliff day after day after day and im shocked that im the only one that sees it. i need you because youre shiny. you glow in the dark and glisten in the sun and i must have you.

im not a 100% but i can almost conclude without a shadow of a doubt that your playing just for shits and giggles. you have no real intentions of getting to know me or being with me. maybe the me you see doesnt spark enough of an interest for you to want to dig any deeper. shit. maybe its that there isnt a deeper level to dig to.   but youre a ugly human being. that much i know. you could have spared me so much misery. all it would have taken was just a little bit of mercy at the beginning. instead, you said what you thought i wanted to hear.  you were good at humoring me. despite this awful feeling in the back of my head i followed you along your yellow brick road of electrolyzed lies. each one with a specific timer set to do the most damage once its already been swallowed, digested and waiting patiently to explode deep inside.  maybe its just in your nature. maybe i should be more upset at my position on and the dynamics of the human food chain. your an ugly human being but i cant look away. your letters are coated with a plastic canvass for you to paint pretty white lies and butterflies on. the core is nothing hardy or meaty but instead theyre injected with a laxative as if you were trying to give me some kind of hint that none of this is keepsake material. swallowed and flushed away. maybe thats how you intended it.   
or maybe im just coloring more and more detail at the gloom and pessimistic corners of my mind. maybe its that i let a matchstick made of doubt start mental wildfires that not even the person who gave me the match could put out.  and when fires run ramped, people get hurt and bridges burn. the sky turns grey and ashes fall and float to block out the rays of light. and even with all fires burning theres no place to stay warm. pick up the pieces and pick a direction to start walking in. how many times can one person afford to pick up after themselves. and what can you do with the pieces of a broken heart.