Alive

TODAY REMINDED ME WHY I LOVE LIVING IN SEATTLE. AT 3PM IT’S DARK. IT’S GREY AND CLOUDY AND RAINING AND JUST A MESS. SEATTLE LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE SUCKED ALL OF THE COLOUR OUT OF THE CITY. IT’S DELIGHTFUL. I LOVE DAYS LIKE THIS BECAUSE I’M NOT BLINDED WITH SUNSHINE, I CAN WEAR RAINBOOTS AND RAINCOATS AND HATS AND COMFY CLOTHES AND DRINKING COFFEE TASTES SO MUCH BETTER BECAUSE IT’S COLD AND WET AND COFFEE JUST WARMS YOUR FINGERS AND SOUL AND EVERYTHING ELSE IN BETWEEN. AND THEN WHEN YOU GO TO SLEEP YOUR BED FEELS THAT MUCH MORE WARM AND COZY. HONESTLY, THERE’S NOTHING MORE ENJOYABLE THEN CRAPPY RAINING DAYS. 

I’M CURRENTLY ADDICTED TO SNAPPLE NECTARINE WHITE TEA (IF A SHEEP AND GOAT MATE THE OFFSPRING IS CALLED A GEEP, THANK YOU SNAPPLE), WHTIE CHOCOLATE MACADAMIA  NUT COOKIES, AND CAPS LOCK! THESE THINGS SEEM TO MAKE LIFE ENJOYABLE. 

I AM CURRENTLY UPSET BY SHITTY BARISTAS AND TULLYS COFFEE MOCHAS. USUALLY, I’LL DRINK TULLYS COFFEE, IT’S NOT MY FAVORITE BUT IT’S ON CAMPUS AND A FORM OF COFFEE, BUT LATELY EVERYWHERE I GO THE BARISTA SEEMS TO FUCK UP MY COFFEE. OF COURSE, I CAN’T WASTE COFFEE, EVEN IF IT’S SHITTY, BUT IT STILL REALLY UPSETS ME. I GUESS IT’S TIME TO ACTUALLY UNPACK MY ROOM SO I CAN START MAKING MY OWN COFFEE AND GO BACK TO DELICIOUSNESS. IF YOUR HANDS ARE SHAKING DOES THAT MEAN YOU’VE HAD TOO MUCH COFFEE, OR NOT ENOUGH?  

on the side of the road,
between sidewalk cracks,
in backyards full of
tall bahia grass,
pushing aside their
stems so you could
find the sky.

You grew up
beneath the sun
and out in the rain
and under every
booming thunderstorm
an Alabama summer
could throw your way.

Dogs ran through you.
Men, too, trampled you
but you sprung back up,
rumpled, but still bright,
unbowing, even when
they said you were just
a gangly weed that no
one would find beautiful.

(I found you beautiful,
because your face was
the sun, and I find it
everywhere.)

You grew up.
You had to grow up,
grew white and fragile
and one day the wind
came for you and
carried you away.

Fly far.

“Be like a duck. Remain calm on the surface and paddle like hell underneath.” Michael Caine

Slouched back, cool,
Collected, and confident.
Wear a hint of a grin
And a dash of cologne.
Say What took you so long?
Say You’re behind the times, man.
Say Dead is the new black.
Coffin is the new condo.
Pallor is the new tan.
La vida muerta.

Greet death
With a fistful of black-eyed susans,
Butterflies in your stomach,
And two tickets to tomorrow’s sunrise.
Wear your father’s cufflinks
And your mother’s wedding ring.
Say I brought these for you, babe.
Say Kiss me, kiss me.
Say But wait until the sun comes up.
Just until daybreak.
I want to show you something.
Hasta la muerte, te amo.

Greet death
With a knife at your own neck,
Chin up, throat bared,
Cardiac in overdrive.
Wear nothing.
Wear nothing.
Say Bring it on motherfucker!
Say Only on my terms.
Say nothing
And open your throat.
And bleed to completion.
El final, el final, el final.