Tendons

the road to the valley is riddled with twists and turns. around one of those bends is a storage unit where i almost killed my best friend, i say to the other kids in the car. they laugh and say i'm funny when i'm drunk, but it's true. joe's blood is still on the cement, his tendons are still exposed. we were in a hurry, i mumbled, words not coming out of my mouth as i'm intending, but they're only half-listening, and joe was really skinny so he slipped in behind a desk to lift a box. he had to lift the box over a chair, and i couldn't see what was going on. the lights outside are making me dizzy, put over, man, put over now i say. whatever i just melted my debit card with wants back out, pronto, and joe asked me to move this chair towards me so he could drop a box behind it, so i did. the box fell, he did too, the top of his right hand made sweet love to the metal column holding the goddamn unit up. he turned to me, pale, quiet, and i said, you okay? we both looked at his hand, and it was open. wide open. we stared at the purple, the white, the lines crossing and weaving and all the gray, then the lava came. it started pouring out black and brown and thick and the viscosity, JESUS PULL OVER MAN, there was blood everywhere. i was certified in first aid so logically i passed out, leaving him to take off his jeans and rip them and try to make a tourniquet, and i think he made one. i don't remember much. i blacked out and then woke up and was alone on the road. there was vomit everywhere. i heard voices. kendall, get back in the car. you're cut off, and no more stories, they say, but i'm only half-listening.

In The Manner Of Dogs

'yeah, he knocked up his sister. tried to do his mom too.'
'dogs do that?'
'uhh, yeah?'
[looks down at puppy]
'i suppose that was a stupid question. i suppose people do that, too.'

He Slept Like...

you lack the arresting sort of development we'd like to see, they say.

(proceed back to the drawing board, tail between legs.)

how good am i? you'd turn the car back around and you know it.

things are getting in my way, namely, life.
phone taps, countries splitting, species gone gone gone.

how good am i? dude slept like roadkill.

3o something

'just look at it this way: it took my brother 8 years to figure things out. 8 years! he's almost 30.'
i looked away, then i looked back. 'no he's not.'
'yeah he is. he's 26. well, he's gonna be 26.'
'that's nowhere near 30.'
'yes it is.'
'well what does that make us then? 25?'
'yeah.' pause. [retrospective for the not-so-distant statement.] 'we're almost 30.'

Glass Jaws

i stopped at a green light today.
hey, don't honk at me, asshole...

...oh.

Aliens

we're young.
we hop borders, we abuse our health.
(hey, i'll drink to that!)

Coffee And Corpses

'have you ever held cremated human remains? i think they're called 'cremains.' '
'i have not!'
'well, let me say this: they're a lot heavier than you'd think!'

(i love coffee.)

Sewerage

and it's not done,
but the song is.
(your song?)

Passive

passive, feet stuck in the mud/sand.

true story: last week at this time, i sat at the end of a driveway in south carolina with my best friend. the kind of best friend that not everyone has, the kind of best friend that everyone wants, the kind of best friend that loves you and tells you you're a good person no matter how many one-night stands you pretend you didn't have, no matter how many married men you've kissed, no matter anything. that kind of best friend. this is all arbitrary, but she's my best friend.

cheap bottles of wine, i saw a shooting star. we talked louder than the alcohol warranted just to see if he'd come out of his house. we thought about flipping the four-wheeler earlier that day: she says i'm not good at playing the damsel in distress. i say: i'm living it.
maybe he'll come out, maybe we'll get high in the woods, maybe we'll have some fun, the atlantic isn't enough and we need some more secrets. hey man, we're here, we're vulnerable.

then i tell this guy over coffee that i have a problem or two, and he changes my life. it's not the action or event, it's your opinion of it. love's not real, only the way you see it. change your opinion, change everything.

all at once, we're in complete control.

mahmoud and i played this game once: as a final goodbye, let's tell each other how we really feel.
what i said wasn't important, because nothing ever is.
his: "you are too passive, you're all talk. you won't amount to anything."

while 85% of that may be true,
i must say that the sand feels really good between my toes.

Pull One Excuse From Another

i don't have the heart to tell my mother that i don't like her chili.
[now, in the deep and down.]


i remember meeting you that night, in your car.
i remember seeing your face for the first time since...
and thinking, you are still beautiful.
you tasted the same. (can we change our taste? how's that for table talk?)

the grass was wet. the dirt was dry. i remember seeing your face for the first time since...

i don't mean to undermine all that i stand for,
but i fear i was doomed to write teenage epics.

(thank you. you're welcome.)

'are we pretending to be unhappy?'
'no. it's real. but i really, really liked that movie.'

'music is my worst enemy. songs about drugs, sex, and alcohol warrant all of my actions.'
'we. are. not. having. this. conversation.'

i'm sorry; i had a feeling you were right.

Owned

literally, OWNED.
BURNED. DENIED.
REJECTED, FROM DOWNNNNTOWNNNNN.

but that's life. you move move move on,
move move move.

'who does this song remind you of?'
'who do you think?'

pause, in the driveway, in the snow.
the window is down, in the snow, because you have to smoke.

'do you think we'll ever get over them?'
'do you think we're supposed to?'

yes, i'll end with a preposition,
don't mind if i do.

forgive me guys, it's been awhile. but i'm back.

Longer Pleas

i've been cleaning my room (for a change, for a change, in preparation, for a change).
i came across a brown portfolio, and in it was my past, condensed, epitomized, how sad.
i cringed, really.
'the younger years: memories are an inevitable curse'
'the longer stuff: nothing more than a longer plea'
and
'words, call it prose, call it nothing'

being eighteen must have been really, really rough.
wholly broken, incessant anger.

i fold the paper in half, laugh, tear it, and it falls to a pile next to my bed. my laugh wakes asia from her sleep and she rolls her eyes. i laugh, and it falls. the pain that dripped from that pen back then was so ridiculous. too much music, too much compulsion.

now, it's the same music, but more of it, and louder. it's more compulsion, it's sought after. and it's a fuckton of more subtlety.

good night, and good luck. :]

Two Guys Walk Into A Bar

'I heard a riddle once that I never understood.'

'Hit me.'

'So you have a lamb, a fox, and some cabbage, right? You have to get them across the river, but you can only take two at a time.’

Pause.

'That’s quite a conundrum, I guess.’

'Solve it.’

'What’s there to solve?'

'What do you mean what’s there to solve? How do you get them across the river?'

Longer pause.

'I'm...I’m sorry, I …I don’t really get the point of the riddle. Can you at least tell me why I'm even in this situation in the first place?'

'Solve the damn riddle, Kendall.'

'But wait, like, what, is it even a riddle? I mean really, there’s no twist here. And honestly, this is not that pressing of an issue for me. Let the lamb eat the cabbage, let the fox eat the lamb, who gives a shit? Let nature take its course for crying out loud. Plus, what if the fox attacks me when I’m taking it across the river? Is that what foxes do, they attack? Or what if the lamb bites me? I don't want to be interacting with this hypothetical livestock, contract some mad-hoof disease and never be able to give blood ever again. And how deep is the river, and how wide? Oregon trail style, forging the river, is my life at stake? Will Sally get bit by a snake afterwards and I’ll have to leave her behind on the dusty trail with a pathetic cartoon headstone? Are we to assume the Oregon trailers took the time to carve those headstones themselves like the game depicts? It’s just, I don’t know, I just don’t know. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me.'

'You ruin everything. Really, everything.'

'Is that another riddle?'

[i shouldn't feel this way, but i do.

i should mind, but i don't.]

i'd hate to think this is all for nothing,

'cause i kinda sorda want you endlessly.