i think of you when you're sleeping when the first rays of daybreak remind me when i eat my english muffin and calcium enriched orange tangerine juice i think of you constantly. when you're sleeping i wonder if i ever could get that close to such vulnerability. to quiet breathing and rapid eye movement. i replay your dialogue in my head maybe too much studying the background noise that weaves from in between your syllables. i wake up dreaming in this half conscious state where you decided to come in and monopolize my mind and from that night where we spent too much money i decided to welcome this infatuation from over the top of that beer list images misconstrued broken collage of your red knuckles rendered themselves beautiful its hard to let this go when everything else pales in comparison to this one way conversation i want to grasp
12:06 AM

monday, january 15

and i guess it's because part of me is missing you. missing the routine. missing the sense of you. you occupying my every thought. and im not quite sure what you represent to me. or where i find this parallel. between our opposite worlds. im still trying to find the area where we overlap. but i find myself waiting. constantly waiting. on the cheap leather couch of this future. in the silence between now and three weeks ago. i live through this worn out over remixed and overdone new wave sense of then.
9:00 PM

friday, december 29

and i guess a part of me thinks you're genuine. thinks that you've got something to offer. something besides..what i've given. and i'd save all your letters. that is. if you ever wrote me one. because i'd sit. analyze. study. your handwriting. how you cross your t's. dot your i's. detail. its something i pay attention to. your fingernails. ear lobes. i'd like to look up at the same stars. to feel your fibers. and to have that sheer. physical. rush. because i know that's all i've got.
6:18 AM

you're thinking wrong. i don't fall in love like that. and i guess you prefer real life. while i just linger in this space between here, now and two weeks ago. but i can't help me. help you. as i watch you. because im such a kid like that. a freshman. a virgin. to you. you know long ago that not to be true. because i was corrupted. mistreated. i laugh. giggle. you know the deal. but it wanes. melts. slips through my fingers like that. because i let it. because i let myself use you. as this fantasy. pre conceived. contrived. created. into that perfect box. of whatever sick shit i invent. and i blame it on those images. that slideshow that runs through my head. looped. embedded with the quaint tragedies that i write. orchestrate. but why? but why..you? now it's 6 am. and my alarm rings. on that too big watch i used to wear. but the band is fading. and it has lost its g-shock-ness. but the fact remains. it's 6 am. can i kiss you yet? but i didnt expect any of this. i would rather live in this moment than fantasize of what could be. i need a substitite. a substitute for you. because i can't control my wandering mind. hands. and eyes. that search for yours in the darkness of what could never be. but i created you. i put you in my box. under my pillow. but i don't fall in love like that..
5:55 AM

so give me a call. when you're willing. when you're willing to fight. now i can't just sit here. and pretend im apathetic. because despite what you may think. i actually do bleed. i cry too. but fuck that. i can't get over. small. insignificant. nothingness. facts. that you still remain. a grasp away.
5:04 AM

yeah, i guess im gonna sit here. and wait. wait for you and wait for my naivete to kick in. its been two hours and sixteen minutes since i popped that last pill. ill wait for that time release capsule to melt away under the wrath of my acids. ill sit here. perpetually staring. hoping. in some sick nick-at-nite daze. the kind when i cant slip. and i flip through your black and white tv. with no remote. but the dials broken. so we end up watching NY1. endlessly. but i can only tolerate so much. so much news. talk. bullshit. but i wait. wait for that rehearsed conversation. just like everything. waiting for something to turn back. that clock on the wall that's off. by two hours. and sixteen minutes. i wait. but that something doesnt come. it hasnt come. and as far as my hyped up pipe dreams on baby asprin go, it will not come. so im gonna sit back down. with my curdled milk and used up phone card. and wait for you.
4:21 AM