Flash Fiction 4/3/14

Years on end, society has had the obnoxious, in-your-face, insufferable (actually quite sufferable, but you know what I mean) nerve to ask the same age-old test-of-time-defying question: how are you holding up? Well, frankly dear, do you even want the carefully scripted, societally appropriate answer honed to accomplish both our needs, or can I kill off both our hopes and dreams of inner peace and can I really tell you that upon your encounter I was suddenly re-fabricated as a heap of trash slugging through the Hudson, and you, lovely, may have drug me out before reaching bigger and better things.
Should I assume all that is done, sweetheart?
Because if I were to be this so-called honest, if I were to tell you how I was “holding up,” I’d have to begin by explaining the context: include the immediate scenery, the slant of the graffiti, the blood alcohol content of the nearest sophomore, the ins and outs of weaving in and out of traffic and so on. Now acknowledge this and absorb the deeper level that is infiltrating your thinking- keeps you from holding up, so to speak. Because you may as well blame, if you’re really into blaming such innocuous factors, such as the nitrogen content in the atmosphere, or the rate of dying from secondhand smoke in the US versus…….Narnia, I suppose.
I really want to be honest, I want to share if I even am holding anything at all, or may need assistance in doing so, but it is against social norms as of now, my sweetest. You are not the tip of the iceberg, dear, you are the scorching sun; you are not thirst, darling, you are just not water; and you are not any kind of life preserver, beloved, and you are not holding me up.


30 In 30 Feb 6-9th


Sorry, it was a very busy weekend. I had my grandma’s memorial service and all sorts of family in town and it was so many different kinds of lunacy and alcoholism at work, Jesus fucking Christ.


Feb 6th:

you don’t
I want to be
with you through thick and thin
for us to be like thin bike chains
and singing in the rain
with you
i want to carve your deepest scars and
be your brightest star
i can be your favorite fairytale even
if you want
and you can be morphine, i’ll be methadone
you can be deaf and i’ll be blind
you can have the eye and i’ll have the ear
at least we aren’t lying we’re gruesome
i’d give anything to be your fairytale

Feb 7th:

I could watch
Him double over in laughter
For the rest of my life.
Eyes shut tight and wide, fat-lipped mouth gasping for breath.
Clutching his stomach for it
Then he finally looks at me
And I realize I get to take credit for it
And I think I’m the only one here
Who cares so much

Feb 8th:

Oh, I want to paint suffering
I want to write about a colorblind monster
Who tears and wears and destructs
And doesn’tgiveafuckwhoyouare
Oh, I want to give you the world!
I want to tell you this is the end
I want to spoon-feed little babies lies like
We are at the epitome of our destiny and
This is the bravest world, mad and tilted as it looks
Right now
It actually knows best
Be ever so grateful I hate indiscriminately I am
Colorblind at heart I

Feb 9th:

When I figure out
How to administer amnesia I’ll call
It won’t have any more emergence than my
Same call every other Sunday
At four in the afternoon on the dot
And if you don’t pick up on the third ring
I will hang up.

I Don’t Blame Us


Now that I think about it
I don’t blame us-
I mean-
We were outdated music
We were ripped clothes
I was bashing on ivory keys
You were walking into waves
You would cut and dye your hair
If I liked it and
I would change if I was pretty
I was always pretty
This was all about being displeasing
Sometimes you’d trip and I’d keep on walking
Not that you’d even hold it against me, right?
I never held it against you.
But you did throw all my stuff out your window
And let my CDs shatter on the ground
We broke all each other’s promises so we didn’t owe nobody
And that was how it all ended
Not long after that I re-began

Heart Attacks & Backlash

I hope for everyone’s
It’s just a heart attack
I don’t get it-
I’m always doing right and
I’m always a good kid but
I wake up and it’s never tomorrow
It has to come eventually
I’m just asking be
My canary please
Stay with me
I hope for everyone’s
It’s a fatal heart attack

I Fucking Hate Rollercoasters, Man.

I know we'll be
Just fine
When we learn
To love
The ride
So quiet 
At the
Dance we
Speak in hushed
Voices like
The ghosts of failure and
Nervousness can hear our teeth 
You know they're talking about us right?
Yeah, if we ignore it 
Maybe they'll go away.
That's what the counselors 
In third grade 
Told us to do 
Have you ever heard something so
Like your lovers could just pack their bags and
And love, you know 
We'll be just fine
Because we really
Loved the ride