Fortune Cookie 2

Our first and last love is self-love

I wanted you to be just like me
more like me than I am like me
I wanted you

I hope
that you would be waiting for me
and I was waiting for you

you never said you missed me
I wanted you to say that you missed me
you left

you know where to find me
those are my words
and I wonder if you will ever find me
I’ll ever find me


underneath my bed is a man that I don’t ever want
to see again because he hurts me
he’s a boy not a man
not a man
in the mirror is a face that I don’t ever want
to see again because he hurts me

god is dead, mister

had to be to rise again

perspective, mister
that’s your perspective

like white light breaks up in a prism

I wanted you more than I want myself
more than I want



this is a silent night
and there is no one here to remind me of why i’ve come back
or why I left
and i’m here again, trying to figure out what i’m supposed to do with all this
trying to not know what I know
and all the things i don’t want to know
and you are so far away from me
both of you
all three of you
far, far away from where i’m thinking about leaving again
thinking about going to some other choice
if there is some other choice

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

breathe out

count to ten

can i tell you what i’ve been thinking about lately? i know that we are very different and the chances of you and me actually lasting past dream time is slim like a cowboy. this is a country where only the brave come home. only the good die young. only the lonely can play. apple pie all around.

last night i had a dream of darkness
and i couldn’t breathe
and when i woke up i was choking myself
psychologists call them night terrors


I can’t clear my thoughts here – can’t let go of the sound of his voice – coming into my head – echoing, beating, ringing and pounding. Stop! Let me go. Let me leave this place and go back to that room with the tree in the corner. Let me get out and get lost in the city and the cars and the noise and the other people getting lost.


The voice moves into my throat and chokes me. It pushes me to write – to try and say what I hear it saying – what I feel it saying. Thinking of you and wanting you so badly in the space next to me. Wondering if you are even thinking of me. Am I crazy to come to you? Or to love you? And what is love now – now that I no longer know?

None of this is what the voice is saying – and I’m choking.

Invisible Man

No one else sees you, but you’re there. The way I look at this one or that one. The way I smile or the thing I say, you’re the reason. Your perfect face, look, touch or movement into my head – like a wave – like a December wind – filling in the holes – my look, my touch or movement. Everything I do sometimes is because of you. And they don’t see you. But I do. In the Thrifty’s buying something from the cashier. I stare for a long time. Your face. Your look. You turn and you’re someone else and I try to pick up the conversation. And I know you’re here.