"Dead Cat's Dead"
We used to think that the buffet table was free and that whatever we desired from it was meant to be ours.
I used to think that things would only become greater than they were and that I couldn't take a blade in the chest, not ever.
I used to think that I could find God in whatever fashion I chose.
I used to think that magic was real.
I want to know why you're still at it, how you love it, why you love it, and your stride length, so that I can do it like you do.
It's easy to forget-- case in point.
I saw the best mind I knew lose the game and crawl into a corner and refuse to emerge.
I saw my mind being cut into by a pocket-knife bought at some chincy dime store.
Do you know what it's like to fall to your knees in the prime of your life?
Do you know what it feels like to listen to Blonde on Blonde for the third time in a sitting?
Do you know what it's like to smile at the mirror?
Do you know what it's like to smoke?
Sitting in an American paradise reflecting on the black and white days of cowboys and folk musicians and young, unbearded Jewish men at a typewriter in Greenwich Village
Where’s my Greenwich? Is there one in this room, or will there ever be one again? Did I miss the boat?
Looking in Revelations for solace and reason, I’m a Mexican mother who crossed the border three years ago who can only go to church and to work.
I’ve only smoked a pack of cigarettes in my life, but it was good enough for me to do again.
7:44 a.m. loneliness and quiet desperation in the middle aged halls of a building that’s aged way too fast, though not as fast as me and I’m older than it.
Sexual creatures all around me and all I can remember is a vision of departing sex and a faceless hand on me
Paranoia creeping and dancing around on the burgundy carpet from nineteen-seventy-something with a hole in it.
I’ve stopped reflecting on whether this life is meaningful, or whether my actions are right or not. A dead cat’s dead, stuffed or not.
