singing bowl of rage

singing bowl of rage  roman games

I’m furious
I feel like I can run 10 miles
And then eat a cake, straight out of the singing bowl of Rage
Blood pulsing
Mind spouting obscenities

How did it come to this?
Why am I shooting off the mouth like a loose canon
spiraling through the atmosphere?
Where’s grace, goddamnit?

It’s about not being listened to
It’s about not being taken into account
It’s about blame
Doing it wrong
You’re bad,
Back off.

Get off –
No
No
No.

Continue reading “singing bowl of rage”

mute but screaming

mute but screaming

FADE IN: two at lunch.

She: It’s like the texture of smoke.

He: Right.

She: You can see smoke even though it’s translucent.

He: K.

She: That’s how it felt. It’s there but not.

He: Dark but translucent.

She: Uh-huh. I guess that’s progress, right?

He: I would say. It was way worse before…

She: I know… I still feel the darkness, though.

He: I’m sure that doesn’t go away. I mean, not right away.

She: It can get scary.

He: So, why don’t you call me?

She: I wanted to but for some reason, I couldn’t.

She: Weird how that happens; we’re mute but screaming for help.

He: I get it.

FADE OUT.

a curse (not really)

a curse (not really)

Dreamy.
I love you oceans.
She says, not just to me.

It’s hard to hear from her.
It’s like the sting from rubbing alcohol.
Why didn’t I matter?
No return phone call.
No response
No reaction.

Silence.
The worst punishment.
Punishable by death.
And I’m in the chair.

Talented, skinny, sexy, confident, fun, adventurous, a killer IG account.
I know, superficial, but JesusChrist does that count in my brain.
Pride envelopes me.
Fuck you, on heated lips, on repeat.
Thick black ash in my heart.

A curse.

No!
Those things work.
Stop that.
Don’t be a child.

A curse.

I mean it!
God.
What is this, medieval times?

A curse?

Not really.
More like blessings beyond reach, an avalanche.
I do.
I wish you,
the best.
Cuz you’re fuckin’ talented and I love you.
I love you.

Find Magdalena

FADE IN: two surfers.

“I found this note on my phone that I never wrote.”

“What do you mean?”

“A notepad-note-thingie that said, ‘Things are getting interesting.’ Like, what the fuck?”

“Ok…”

“I feel like I’m getting my identity stolen.”

“You would know if that was happening. You also get shit-faced a lot, so there’s that.”

“Yeah. There’s this guy in the music business who sent me an email with a legal document attached that said, ‘You better get yourself a good lawyer, see you in court.’ Like, what the fuck did I do? It haunted me. I got off Facebook, Twitter, everything.”

“Don’t let ass-fucks like that get in your way. Fuckin’ idiots, the lot of ’em.”

“I don’t know. There’s like, some darkness inside, you know.”

He rubs his chest.

And then: “Do you believe in Jesus?”

Continue reading “Find Magdalena”

step up/meet it/match it/expand it

Walk into the darkness.
She said.
Don’t look back at your ghost, it’ll never serve you.
What once was, is no longer.
Step up, meet it, match it, expand it.
She said.

I stood stunned.
Who are you to tell me this?
How dare you.
How dare your courage, your groundedness, your skill, your success.
How dare your reason, your age, your wisdom, your heart.

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danger

danger

She’s beautiful to look at.
I try to ignore this as I listen.
Her fragrance wafts over me like steam.
“It’s oil,” she says, “Everyone is wearing it.”
I breathe it in, as I do her.

Danger.

Is what I sense when she speaks.
Sure, it’s the move/LA/making friends/figuring it out/living a new —
Danger.
I sniff her out with every moment, like a cat to a passing dog.
She plays with my hair.

God, that feels good.

Continue reading “danger”