Your back’s turned, you’re getting stabbed.
I am damage
I am all nerve
(leftover memorial on a curve)
splintered pieces of me shudder
test pattern holes in the snow.
Afraid of my own shadow
borrowed of a tired heart
(and searching for a light switch in the dark)
I come up through the floorboards
perfectly accentuated in chaotic pitch.
Unconscious and calculating
my mind turns over like an aging engine
(stalling, coughing, overheating)
I grasp for the last hint of dream but - oh! -
only the fog remains.
Put down your lack of sleep.
Put down your unchecked emails and your forgotten passwords.
Put down all the missed phone calls and voicemails.
Put down the text messages you sort of read and thought you’d get back to.
Put down the mail you forgot to grab on your way into the house.
Put down the grocery bag that broke in the driveway.
Put down the lunch that got crushed on your way to work.
Put down the 5 lb bag of granola that spilled all over the front seat of your car.
Put down those bananas you didn’t eat in time and the grapes, too.
Put down the unwashed sheets and the jeans you’re wearing for the third day.
Put down that last squeeze of face wash and the dull razor.
Put down your clumpy nail polish and the comb with the missing teeth.
Put down your vacuum cleaner and your broom and your window cleaner.
Put down the kale salad and the organic coffee.
Put down that TV remote and the DVDs.
Put down the letter to your Mom and the days it’s been since you called your best friend.
Put down your charger and your phone and your computer.
Put down your hair.
Put down your bills and your newspaper and you train ticket.
Put down doctor visits and schedules and calendar days.
Put down words.
Put down sighs.
Put down your life.
Just for a minute.
Lay here on the floor next to me just for a moment.
It’ll all still be there.
Never an acrobat, always a liar.
but we know well
Jell-o is terrifying. Take it away!
I’m worth more than $9/hour.
Three parts intense stare to one part bated breath.
Two parts enticing dialogue to two parts beads of sweat.
Four parts shouting profanity to one part banging fists on the table.
Rim with salt.
It was the end of innocence.
I would like to set an automated response to my current life, to all the things people “need” me to do, the places they “need” me to be, the stuff they “need” me to say. It will read:
I Am Not Available.
And then to all the things that I need and want and desire, I will set a new automated response. This one will simply say:
Welcome to the god damn neighborhood.
Doesn’t everyone have a favorite Aunt?
You’re going to want to hold on
cause I’ve been taken over.
Sorry the story has fallen
but I’m just wandering.
Double trouble happening again:
my two favorite queens
from timid to saucy.
Why does being healthy
cost so much money?
I could never
learn how to crack an egg
Minimize, never eliminate.
Does anyone have a center
that they don’t want anymore?
So many amazing people
shared something like this:
“I’m a guest.
This is the best.”
You know you’re back
when it’s time to go.
Today I’ll be sleeping
(in case you don’t know).
The hardest part is
there’s a whole library;
Read and get it for yourself.
I’m half tempted to boil it.
(A found poem taken from Facebook statuses.)
- Jordan Rizzieri
Our story is still being written.