jackson avenue.
last friday was the first friday you were sober.
it was the first time you had
a heart full of hurricanes past dinnertime.
felt like crying, but without the drink
it was hard to find tears.
it made you wonder:
what really defines ghost?
is it cold? dark?
or just absence?
and: how could absence be anything
but desperate?
tomorrow, you will try to find the answer
because you know with it
you will find yourself.
but you already know that you won’t.
instead, you will try to do
double the forgetting.
you’ve done it before. you did it in
mingyue road.
when you
forgot
whether balconies
were built
to stop a jump, or
enable one.
that day was the first worst dark day of your life.
he asked you how many seconds you thought it would take before he
hit
the
ground.
and you didn’t know at the time,
but you are now an avatar of firewater and smoke,
and so you can tell the memory of him:
it all depends on how heavy the weight is.
me, i’m already tried and true.
when you grow up encased in concrete,
the only thing you learn to love
is goodbye.
of course,
like the balcony,
you won’t actually
forget.
instead, you
will
keep
running
until
driscoll hall drive.
which is the first night
you saw yourself die.
i watched you fade into black oil,
spilled and crystallized into dollar bills,
used those to buy and use a grenade,
the great slogan: Make Yourself Hole Again.
and only in the collateral
do you ask yourself:
why were we made this way?
selfish systems?
even now, as you ache—
your hands are blood warm
and the snow falls gently.
and soon you’ll inhale escape
and the snow will fall
more slowly.
and your mind
will numb
into the
blissful
winter,
and
tomorrow
morning
you
will
awaken a wonderland on fire.
~11/2016
odyssey entry 3
viper veins entry 2
v2