Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Full stop

I’m drowning in tomorrow

Pule back-beat thundering in my head between cranium mania and
Brow-broken sweat shop over easy scrambled
eggs where my brain should be thinking
of today

I’m festering in yesterday
Somewhere between ‘good morning’ and ‘pastrami on rye’
And trying to figure out why, why
The dome above us is blue when space is black
Between stars and supernovas
And taxi-cab meteors depositing carbon-based passengers from planet to planet
To make Martians out of molehills

I’m still trying to float above it all
The kettle between my ears throbbing and whistling
Cartoon steam jetting out of my ears in the mid-afternoon afterglow
Of hangovers past
This bus smells like pancakes and broken dreams
It’s raining maggots and candy canes today

So this is what you see through me
When it feels like my veins are filled with mud instead of
And they go to take my blood
But I faint because I’m just filled with hot air
And now I’m in hot water
Because I’ve forgotten how to feel today

So now yesterday and tomorrow make a
Tag-team low fat hold-the-mustard sandwich
With cream of fuck-everything soup on the side
And enough bagels to feed the whole downtown east side
This is the jumble of scrambled-egg brain
Between my ears, under my skull and skin
Veiled by hair
Holy grail female brain, they say, confused
I say I know exactly what I’m not doing.

This isn’t meant to make sense, it’s meant to make peace
With inner brain and outer space
It’s not supposed to make sense
So when I say ‘oo ee oo ah ah’
You’re not supposed to say ‘what?’ you’re supposed to say
‘ting tang walla walla bing bang’
It’s not supposed to make sense when I break down in Greek History
Because the Spartans killed thousands of people
And it’s not supposed to make sense when you say
‘are you okay’
and I say
and you say
‘are you sure’
and I say
‘I’m fine’
and you say
‘do you want a hug’
and I say
‘fuck you’

I’m sorry for that, see I’m not myself
When I talk about comets and Martians
and maggots and candy canes
and sandwiches and Spartans

I’m not myself.
It’s not supposed to make sense that between all these empty words is a
Very heavy message
Behind every ‘I’m fine’ is a ‘help me’
And behind every ‘fuck you’ is a ‘please don’t leave.’

I’m not who you think I am right now,
See, I’m usually the candle in the dark
Flickering like a beacon to let people know I’m here, and I can light them, too
They can borrow my flame
But today I’ve been blown out and will stay a smouldering wick
Until someone else comes along
To light me again.

I’m dying, in today
There is no way out of it
Before this brain pain ceases I’ll never forget
I’ll never forget how the sky looked the first time I walked out of the dark
I know this, it’s familiar, was normal for years before I broke out
Of this mind-prison

And I won’t hold you much longer, I just wanted you to see
What it’s like for me
because I don’t mean to confuse you, it’s not easy
I’m not who you think I am right now, I’m not myself,
I’m sorry for that,
It’s not supposed to make sense

I’ll cease this ramble now, go grab my bucket because
It’s still raining maggots and candy canes
And this candle
has to deliver perfume of pancake-dream death
To the Martians.

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