Thursday, December 23, 2010

sleeping in a hotel room is hard
sleeping in a hotel room i used to live in is even more difficult
sure the walls they are bare and there are no remnants left
except vague memories of never being there
or stumbling into the creaky bed too drunk to take off my socks
socks are never worn to sleep  they hold my feet too tightly
and the wicker headboard from a pier one imports makes banging noises
like someone fucks in this bed every night
but unlike a hotel room no person has ever fucked in this bed
and the rosary beads hanging above an atheists head ramble and shake
reminding me that i feel bad my mom doesnt know i do not want them there

Friday, December 17, 2010

i had a life changing incident happen to me that did not change my life. i almost got hit by a bus in chinatown once.  a tourist bus. they always end up killing people dont they? and i, i dont even know how someone can control one of those monsters.  someone pushed me out of the way. the mystery person i did not look at because well i was so tired from my full time job. and hungry and under payed.  i did not praise the day. i did not change my ways of living.  i just kept on going. like the tourist bus.

Friday, December 3, 2010

my painting has been staring at me all day
giving me guilt trips
asking why i havent worked on her
and i am just staring back
wondering what i could do
to make things better