push on, depression

It's there you know, right behind a thin veil, waiting, wanting; haunting really, to be tapped into, to be let out in a ghostly mist, set to descend. And one would think, one would think that given the state of my current affiars, I would be drenched within it, this descending depression and yet I find myself content, unnervingly content, for while I feel stretched, between two coasts, and dried up, tanned, like a bovine hide I am still content, happy even, in my circumstances. Revelling in depression has formerly gotten me to no successes, only tear ridden poetry. Now I try to turn it on as this veil, this ghastly shroud has always been my greatest resource for creativity, for writing specifically. I am empty. I am empty? doubtful, doubtless.

Coffee and Cigarettes

He wore navy blue socks and black shoes. As a child I had decided I would be a spy in the CIA so I started to watch everyone around me as practice, this still continues. Anyway we wore navy blue socks and black shoes, as I took off my backpack to sit down at the computer next to him I got a whiff of his scent. He smelled the same as someone I used to know, very well. Someone whom I loved and I loved his scent of coffee and cigarettes. Not being a coffee drinker or smoker myself, (expect for that brief month in January) I would often lie in bed holding his long fingers and smelling his scent, had he known I’m sure he would have thought me insane, as I may very well be. We had some good times me and that coffee drinker, a long torturous run if you will. In the end I don’t think we could have hurt each other more and yet when my olfactory senses were filled with his familiar notes I couldn’t help but smile. Smile at the memories that issued forth upon sitting at the computer next to this other boy with the terrible fashion faux pas. He looked nothing like my former friend, they were of different ethnicities and he wore one of those beanie hats with a bill (a terrible fashion device as well) however he was wearing khaki pants which I found intriguing as my former friend and lover only wore khaki pants. All the days and years I knew him I couldn’t count more then ten times I saw him in some other form of pants whether denim, dress or wool. It was his uniform if you will and he wore it well, I was attracted anyway. Ah but my initial attraction to this character, this cigarette smoker, is a fateful story unto itself.

one chest heated

There are certain memories that heat your chest like a glass of wine on an empty stomach. I had one of those memories today it was of a summer past full of dark meetings, denim shorts and grape flavored gum. I smiled at the thought of how he did his hair when in fact the affair on a whole was nothing better then stepping in shit. But ah the memories still heat my core.

If my heart still hurts tomorrow at least ill know I’m alive

I wasn’t going to write today, I thought it too soon and too many thoughts were intermingling with the sloshing of the tears but then I came up with the title. I’ll have to admit I had to read around to get some inspiration and there it was hidden in this vast electronic sea of knowledge and nothing, where I spent most of my days and nights until I had found the ultimate distraction, love, excuse me amor for I as close as it got at the end there I still shuddered at the thought of saying those words first. He left today and I thought of that, I had replayed it in my mind so many times that those words would be the last thing I would say to him before he left and his voice became always a phone call away rather then a something I would awake to daily. You’ll have to excuse my ramblings as I did warn I wasn’t going to write today. I’ll brief you now I guess, my throat: dry, lumped; my eyes: wet and stinging but not full of tears; my lips: chapped and utterly lonely; and my heart: creaking within its chambers, pushing at the seams and scars left from so may previous breaks, but not shattering as it is accustomed to, for this ending was far from malicious and the segment on a whole was always more then pleasant. Its funny you know they all move away and here I am left chasing my dreams and picking up the pieces of my heart he didn’t mean to break.

getting back to the writing slowly

It was just a taste of what was to come. I found myself wanting to watch movies that matter, documentaries and things about the world. Things that I don’t think about because I’m caught up in this semi-bilingual love affair. I can only tell him I love him in Spanish and many of his sweet nothings come in the same language... he went out of town this weekend, our second to last weekend and I wonder if ill feel the same way I did his first night away when he begins his trek to the other side of our American universe in the coming weeks. I felt like I should lie in the middle of the floor so the devil could get a better shot with those darts he was throwing at my heart. I was watching Cold Case Files and crying, it was pathetic but still a taste of what was to come. One week away and my mom has promised a day at the spa once he leaves. In the mean time I have to find a place to live which has proven much more difficult then I had thought. I’m also looking to graduate early, enough is enough and I’m ready to go exploring what they call real life. Well at least I think I’m ready.