Meddling gibberish

Smashing the blinds ten minutes

at the four hundredth hour.

The winter frost kissing my lips.

I pucker and lick to satisfy their thirst.

You hold me without arms.

Pushing!

Molding!

I’ll hide in my hut.

The tree branches rattle at my windowsill.

Autumn leaves grace the ground

to usher you in.

Where shall they lead us?

Where do we rest our heads?

It comes without date, yielding as it departs.

An astounding phenomenon to behold.

I’ll peek through the blinds with

relentless curiosity.

In haste I’ll run outside sprawling on

the ground. When morning comes

I’ll be a spectacle for the neighbors to enjoy.

She’ll be torn away from her coffee cup

and stomp angrily outside.

She’ll pull me by my ear as I’m dragged outback.

I caught a glimpse of her scowling face.

I’m all washed up and pinned to a clothes line.

I couldn’t lay ignorant to the calls.

Hanging to dry after a rainy night,

I ponder if my actions became a sin.

Sworn to silence by her rebuke

I sway among the soaked linen.

Can I be your paper doll?

I promise to be quiet and never run away.

Black with Two sugars

Under dim cafe lights,
we find time to get away.
The humming jazz music
whispering in our ears.
It escapes my consciousness
when we take the time to talk.
We spread cream on sliced bread.
A drank whether with herbs,
coffee beans, or water.
Apparently I bought a plain bagel.
If I paid for it my choice wouldn’t
have been bland.
Yet I’m not stretching your hard
earned dollar neither contents
of my plate have discouraged me from
sharing such an opportune time with you.
You tell me how you see me.
The words we shared yesteryear.
The silent thoughts of others.
The weight of my hands, footsteps,
and tune of my voice.
You ask me about the lagging
days spent in bed.
 “I’m stagnantly waiting for things to change” I said.
An answer none progressive.
Can we sum up these days to align
 with our intentions? I fret to speak.
However distressful our chat was we did not faint.
Today can be brighter.
I greatly enjoyed our chit chat over the dinner table.
You were with me and I admit it was quite delightful.

Don’t wait up for me!

I was washing dishes last night when I had a great idea. I was

listening to "Farewell Blues" when I got the idea for a story. This is what I thought of:

I would want be in an old white and black movie. A silent film. It

would be on the streets of a fast paced city. I'm a lowly beer

smuggling mobster yelling at my girl. We are fussing as we walk down the street when this mysterious car pulls up. It's like a Chevrolet standard driven by a fly guy pulls over to the side of the road. He gestures my girl to get in. She hesitates at first, but walks over towards the car. When I grab her arm she already had one leg inside his car. I told her to stop.

"What hell is this broad thinking?! You don't just jump in someone's car? Who da fuck is this chump? C'mon we got things to do!"

Stubbornly she stood defiant to move. Somehow we became a street attraction as people start looking at us. I'm getting annoyed,

embarrassed, and angry. Suddenly, she gets fed up and slaps me clean across my jaw. For a second we stood shocked and I lost my grip of her arm. Her frail eyes staring into mine, as if she wanted to reach out and rub my swollen cheek. But she stood there taken aback by it all. During this the fly guy stretches across the car seats towards her and yanks her in the car by the arm. Once she's in the car he pulls the door shut and speeds away. It'll happen so fast. Annoyed at her betrayal, I'll light a cigarette and walk away as people whisper in circles. Floating on a plank through a sea of staring eyes.

"Why are my fingers trembling? I feel dandy, yeah I do!"

It doesn't stop. I saw a couple cheeky kids were horseplaying on the corner. I flung my cigarette butt at them and kept at a straight face. My vision was getting blurry. I slow down and walk into an alley. Found a dumpster and pitifully kicked it.

"What am I doing here? What happened to my firm composure? I feel like shit!!"

I vigorously kicked the dumpster. The impact left a great pain in my foot as I limped to an adjacent wall. I flop myself down and pulled my knees to my face. I felt my face wrinkling, sobbing, and smothered as I tried to quiet my yelling. Shit definitely hit me. That's exactly how I felt.

The ending credits were touching!

(12/31)  

I couldn’t get a congested feeling out of my throat. The egg nog I drank was bad tasting. I made soup and a side of chips for breakfast. Tea to wash it down. I kept listening to music and playing a game on my phone. I rejoice at the sound of trash trucks outside. The plastic was set outside earlier. In the mood for something new so I moved to the bathroom and dimmed the lights. It’s a great time to sit in the bathroom. I swear, I’m totally sober hahaha! The litter box was a nice touch. The cat was coughing up a hairball so I tossed him in the tub. I sat listening to music. I wondered if there was someone I wanted to think of. It’ll be like a shootout on a radio. No one would know so it wouldn’t be impressive. No one to enjoy it. I’d preferred this would be a poem if I tried, yet it’s better as jotted thoughts. I’m still practicing Japanese. Gotten rusty and I miss talking to people in Japanese. These moments countdown the end of 2012. Subjectively it’s sad yet wonderful. A new year, expectations, actions, thoughts built up for all the possibilities. Perhaps it is now where introspection is at it’s greatest height.

Later on in the day a couple of friends came over. I killed the mood with a movie set during WW2. I took a shower and waited for another who arrived late. Moscow doesn’t believe in tears comrade! So our moral was raised when we watched a martial arts movie. We headed out and boarded a bus to the station. A bad decision lead us waiting in the cold. We walked to a restaurant after a long frigid tread. The service and alcohol were bad, a decent server. The countdown hit zero as we walked away from a liquor store. I messaged my family and told them “Happy New Year!”.

(1/1)  

The next day I took part in a group outing. The friend dynamic has weakened. After all the bickering we road home in a mute car. Surely drama couldn’t keep silent and the phones kept ringing. Let’s purge this so it can be the last day. We aren’t seventeen forever.