I see it
now move in the corner of my eye I swirl my head but nothing is there Paranoia creeps in I know it was there Something The dog is on high alert I see it now move in the corner of my eye I swirl my head but nothing is there I’m getting creeped Something’s off The shadows move like spiders I watch the fireplace cast an ominous glow in the living room It’s all so real I see the eerie red eyes peer at me through the dark void I see there is something in the shadows I see it now move in the corner of my eye I swirl my head but nothing is there Fear, uneasiness sets in like a weary point of view My eyes search the room on alert I pet the dog try to find out if she sees what I can see Something is amiss The shadows reach their tendons into the light but vanish the first moment I catch them in my sight I see it now move in the corner of my eye I swirl my head but nothing is there
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Covid was a journey into restlessness. When I went to San Francisco and saw people wearing masks and I heard about the Coronavirus and everyone warned us about going—aren’t you worried about getting sick? they’d say—there was no way I could have predicted a total world shut down———and thus, a restlessness, an irritability, and an acceptance would follow.
I thought the world was going to end. I was one of those people. I was wary at first. I felt like this would all blow over. But that day I went to the grocery store and saw all the toilet paper sold out, I thought maybe I should jump on the bandwagon. A store fully stocked, except for the toilet paper. So I store-hopped in search of toilet paper and hand sanitizer. We stockpiled canned food and emergency meals. We constructed bugout bags filled with all the necessities for surviving the most hostile terrain. We watched apocalyptic, end-of-the-world movies and TV series to prepare—such as Contagion and Station Eleven. Michelle baked bread, I walked the dog and steered clear of all the neighbors. They were sick and I didn’t want to die. I thought of conspiracies: maybe this is the Illuminate’s way of separating us, because a world separated doesn’t have much of a fight when it comes to global domination. I remembered when I was told about the secret camps this government had constructed so that they could shepherd us into them when the time was right—when we all believed that this was the safest, easiest way; the government was to be trusted and we all must pile into these camps to be taken care of like pets. We’d be pets to the Illuminate, trained and obedient because we saw no other choice. This was survival. We built an indoor trampoline for Annmarie so that when we’d shut ourselves in, she’d have a mode of unloading all her useless energy. We cleared the living room and turned it into a roller disco. I downloaded Spotify and started discovering new bands and downloading them so that when the shit hit the fan and the internet stopped working, I’d have plenty of music to get me through. Michelle discovered a different sort of spirituality so that when these religious nuts showed up on our doorstep with pitchforks and torches, she’d be ready. We bought vegetables from a local farm. Drive half an hour to a bumpy, dirty, shifty road, wait in line with masks on, and one after another, we would pull up and pick up our vegetables. We bought a camper van. It was the only way we could travel so we took up camping because one day it might be all we had left. We bought a new puppy. Eventually things cleared and vaccines were being administered. I was wary; we were all wary. Do these vaccines even work? It’s mind control. We’ll all be slaves. Haven’t you ever the read the book Divergent? It’s happening just like that. People started travelling again. Are they crazy? We stocked up on Covid-tests. Annmarie went back to school and she wore a mask every day—is this for real? She wanted to see her friends outside of school. At the stores, people were wearing masks. Everyone wore masks. This is the end of the world. It was so depressing. We were all faceless shoppers. We had no names. What we looked like, who we were, hidden behind these veils. I told myself stories that I liked covering up my face. I don’t mind because I don’t want people seeing me. It’s why I always wear sunglasses. Michelle became agoraphobic and I started to drive more often. I used to be a nervous driver and now I drive all the time. I love to drive now. At first I had to drive because someone had to get us groceries. Things were going back to normal. I went to my first open-mike in years. I was just an image on a screen. It was unreal. I was condensed to a box. Facebook had won. We were all just faces. On a screen. In a box. I had so many friends and I knew their faces but I didn’t know them—we were all strangers, living in our own filtered bubbles. This was the end of civilization. Frustrated, restless, I took to taking more errands than needed because I needed to get out and stretch my legs. I walked the dog more often than I should have because otherwise, what else would I have done with my time? Michelle started her own business. She started selling dolls and dollhouse furniture on Etsy. I wrote a lot. Took a lot of writing classes on Zoom. The camper van was unsustainable because we had nowhere to store it in the winter. The guy we had bought it from said: We don’t winter in Vermont. We couldn’t just up and leave. We had a teenage girl to take care of. We would have had to keep it plugged in on days there was no sun or else the battery would die. So much for solar power. We sold it to a used car lot and made back a fraction of what we had originally paid. It was a loss we had to make. I went to my first open-mike in person, and I was nervous. I’ve never been nervous about going onstage. I was out of practice and my anxiety was at a high. I wore a mask. There were three other performers, two of them wore masks. There were two other people in attendance—they were not wearing masks. I took off my mask when I read. So much for needing to hide my face. Off stage, I mingled. The other mask-wearer played the fiddle, then took off his mask and never put it back on. I went outside, took off my mask, and looked for a cigarette to bum. This was our world. More and more open-mikes, less people wore masks. Is this really happening? Everything’s going back to normal. The world, as we knew it, is coming to an end. We went to Maine and we brought masks with us on our trip. It was the first time we travelled with our new puppy, who was now a full-grown, eight-pound dog. The first time we had travelled since giving up the van. The dog who we had named Velvet sat on my lap the whole trip while Michelle drove. She was so well-behaved. We stayed in an air B&B. Michelle showed me the town she grew up in. No one wore masks. Things were slowly going back to normal. Every time we leave the house, Michelle brings a bottle of hand sanitizer. I used to douse both hands in sanitizer every time I left a store; now I forget to bring it with me when I leave the home. Today we went to a large, in-door flea market. A few vendors wore masks, but only a few. People were smiling; I could see their faces as they talked. They were shaking hands. I watched them exchange products for cash and then go on their way. The crowd was huge; there were so many people, so many faces, so many germs, so much happiness and joy, that it made it rather difficult to remember that this kind of event wouldn’t have been allowed to happen more than a year ago. It almost makes me forget that these past few years were spent mostly inside, at home, with my family. When we left, Michelle doused her hands with sanitizer and told me to hold out my own…. When I was 19, I was arrested and charged for Possession of Cocaine. We parked our truck in the Staples parking lot because we were meeting a friend when he got out of work and he worked at Staples. So we left the truck in the parking lot and walked to our dealer’s house carrying my Playstation 3. We traded him the console for a small bag of cocaine and then went back to the truck. Sitting in the truck, we each gummed a small amount of cocaine before I turned around and saw through the back window a cop coming toward the truck. I shouted: The police! Andrew rolled down the window and dumped the cocaine and tossed the bag, then rolled back up the window. The cop arrived at the truck and picked up the bag and tapped on the window. He asked us what was in the bag. Then we were arrested.
A few days later the police report came in. Andrew and I thought it was funny because there was no way the cops could have possibly scraped the amount of cocaine they said that we had had off that tiny plastic wrapping. My lawyer was pretty good. He got me off on a Continuance without a Finding, with a year’s probation. I met with a probation officer. Every day I had to call a number and if my color was up, I had to drive to the Charleston Courthouse and go up five flights of stairs and wait in a room for my turn to stand in a bathroom where every wall was a floor to ceiling mirror and a cop in full uniform sat in the corner and watched me pee. Ever since this experience I have had a shy bladder. I assume it’s because of the trauma of having this happen that I can no longer pee when someone is watching. One time I was at the Courthouse and I tried to pee but I couldn’t. So after a while I stepped out and had some water and sat down in the waiting room again. They let me try a second time. Still no pee came out. The cop in the waiting room told me I get one more chance and if I am not able to pee, then they will say I was positive for every drug. Well, I tried a third time and thank God, I was able to pee. 10 years later I found out that for all the drug arrests in that period of time, the charges were dropped. Apparently the two women in the drug lab were discovered to have been lying about how much drugs people had had in their possession. It was a big scandal. Now it all made sense. Yesterday I received a check for a very large sum of money. It was said to be a settlement for my troubles. I guess that money makes up for my shy bladder. I remember
the good ol’ days for what they really were It took awhile but overtime the truth sunk in The good ol’ days that kind of thinking an excuse to go wild But what were they but us trying to escape something we couldn’t quite grasp at the time I thought we were having so much fun I could not let go of the party I hated myself so much I needed to escape all the time I diluted my reality The good ol’ days Were they really that good to want to go back there It really is romance at its finest a retrospective illusion When they went right
you went left You danced to your very own beat with a style that could not have been duplicated A Boy brought up in a society of clones You did it your own way and no one could have taken that away When they went up you dove into the underground A language of your own you spoke fluently A life of your own you created so diligently No one could have told you what was what Where you lacked in brains you made up in creativity All the uniforms of your peers you tore holes in our culture No one could’ve told you the right way because you’d always do it your own way You were my friend and I danced with you in the flames You taught me so much about life ——but somehow it wasn’t enough because that needle’s calling was too strong for you to resist You thought it was the only way to coexist in this freakish world where left was right and up was down You tried to carve a name with the rocknroll you played but you were too late to make it You lived in a veil of misery a shameful voice of oppression You were disillusioned from the day you were hatched Born a tortured soul Died a tormented genius —but it was much too late ————but you tried so hard to persevere You were loved You were you And you died too soon If only you knew/// 1.
Another night I watch the sky and the moon and the stars dance for me over the used car lot as I smoke a pack of smokes and I’m choking because I did too much I went to too many place 2. Another morning Time withers away as I stare at the slashes in my veins I look at the razor marks follow the crevices in my arm as my eyes go wide 3. The sun rises over the parking lot Stars explode in the distance Millions and millions of years go by before the stars blink out Galaxies destroyed One down An infinite more to go 4. The night is bright with mischief The moon is full orange and glowing It looks kinda hairy with a sheen of silver A vapid façade wipes away the guilt I stare up at the sky The stars like fire burning up the dark I wait for this moment to end and another one to begin 5. I fall on my face The stairway never felt so rough The concrete even rougher I flirt with her at the back of the train She says goodbye I stagger down the lane Out the door I trip and tumble and skid to a stop So many times I rode that train Tonight it must be angry 6. I watch the cars rush to destinations Where are they all going It’s a sacred street I stand on awash with lights incandescent Slanted alleyways swagger between buildings I’m sitting on the corner watching the tough guys mingle 7. In the parking lot we share a bottle In the park we toss and tumble In the woods I get bit by a tick The next day my dad removes it with a dab of scotch 8. In the morning I feel soooo high like I’m standing in the sky looking down as the rivers of fire flow like lava Streetlights shine Carhorns howl I’m on the moon watching the manic commotion of a flaming city I feel the clouds They touch my skin like a soft blanket I pull it over my head The ground too is soft like sand I’m in the womb I let myself drift off to sleep………. I fester in the center of
an army of nerves running wild up and down my bitter spine My blood is like acid It eats through my skin leaving my bones bare and charred I got angry fungi growing behind my eyes It’s got me seeing red that grows like a rash across people’s faces My ears are picky They only hear the stuff that makes me sick I don’t know why this is living I’m swimming in a disease that drives me to hate I run from the shame Look for other options but my brain is sick with mold I stick to the solution Seek out other resolutions But I grew so disillusioned that my only answers seem to be lighting a misanthropic fuse The glittery night sky
falls to pieces where the street poet lies He’d fallen there amid a crowd of bystanders watching in awe The sirens bring color to the grayness shattering the city streets Mesmerized faces Tears dripping Children crying The streets bring a whole new edginess to the life of a poet A girl had asked him to write a poem about dancing fairies He turned around Stealthily popped a benny Went to work on the poem He had been working too hard Done too many drugs Drunk too much booze The world swirled and a tornado of colors washed over his vision He clutched his chest His eyes were red Rolled back in his head He started to shake The girl looked at her mommy “It’s just part of his craft,” her mommy said “He’s channeling the words from something higher than life” The girl smiled as the poet dropped to the ground rattled and shook his mouth spewing foam Her mommy clutched the girl’s hand and pulled her off into the oblivious mob Someone shouted: “He’s dead!” The earth stopped spinning No one knew why the poet had fallen to his death He was working too hard Hustling all night and day He had no home and this was what the poet did His golden typewriter gleamed beneath the full moon’s glow This is useless
Everything is useless Words are useless Ideas are useless Point of views are useless This poem is useless I don’t why I’m writing this because my current state of mind is useless Believe me, nothing matters except the gravestone that will become demolished when earth is knocked out of existence or when the state wants to build another Starbucks That is useless too Coffee is not your friend It’s a devil that will make you feel like your life is worth something Liquid cocaine But are you really awake? when you’re only partaking in useless rituals I drink a lot of caffeine and it’s useless because I can’t stop sleeping My thoughts are useless They only prepare me for a useless reality in which we bide our time to be hurled back into the useless maelstrom Religion is useless Time is useless It’s all so horrid like a lucid disguise A veil we wear to keep out the darkness that storms our minds Life is useless and so am I Tears dripping
on the inside of my heart that feels way too much guilt Sometimes the pressure of always having to be perfect is jagged as a knife. Blood smears my vision as I try and I try to do it right but all the time I end up wrong I got the pistol in my twitching hand and I hold it up to my aching head Only way to be perfect sometimes Only way to make things right Never be a burden Next time I’ll do things right But this time for me it’s GAME OVER I think about dying way too often for the average person but I can’t help these yearnings from blossoming into a black rose I watch each petal transcend from this life to another The thorns are dripping pink-eyed confusion I hurts me too much to be a delusion I’m so useless take me to the farthest point from this world I’ll disappear in craters of the moon I’ll find reprieve all alone on the run from the bondage the repression I feel when I’m tied up and scolded Fuck they burn my eyes feel like barbells my head feels like a crater and my mind is just a waste of space |