fast exit

featured in the poetry forum June 5, 2009  :: 0 comments

we’ll make a fast exit
i promise
so quick and painless
and our bank account
won’t even feel it.
we’ll let them feel good about it
slap us on the back
and give us those eyes
then we’ll run
far away
to the bar
to a fine restaurant
or just into the street
free for the moment
rich for a moment
tomorrow won’t matter
we’ll just look at the gray pavement
and the dumb faces
waiting on their crinkling pink papers
with a sigh of relief
because then at least it’ll be over
then we’ll hide the bills
we’ll make sure to stock
the liquor cabinets good
before we settle
in for the long haul
it’ll go so easily
it’ll be a fast exit
a mad dash out the door
i tell you
we won’t even let them finish
their sentence before we’re gone
we won’t hang around for
their empathy and promises
we’ll laugh like jackals
all the way to the end of brooklyn
we’ll smile like fools
we’ll be the happiest idiots
they’ve ever seen
free
two giddy twits galloping
like track horses toward the fast exit.

one of those days

June 5, 2009  :: 0 comments

where the nightmares come
with a bill of sale
and the mattress feels like concrete
where the morning sun has stripped
all beauty from the world
and life is gray
where the hangover feels worse
than the last one
and you wonder how much more
can the body take
where everyone on the morning train
looks dead
acts dead
and friends feel like enemies
where there is no love
except that wanting to murder you
where you wonder
how much longer can you go on
with the world
before you burn into a fine ash
or go stale
if you’ve gone stale
where one kind face could maybe
save you
but you know that face will
never come
where all the food tastes bland
and the drink is dull
and conversation feels like war
where the clock starts mocking you
atop a mute television
with a dying screen
and the next hour feels like
water dropping slowly from
a broken faucet
where the idea of the next day
feels like a new kind of hell
where you go to bed feeling your heart
ready to explode in your chest
and the panic settling into your soul
where your eyes are afraid to close
where you can’t stand the images in your head
and the shadows on the wall make hell hounds
angling to swallow you whole
where you are having one of those days
where death feels like a respite from thought
and you pray the buddhists are wrong
one of those kinds of days
that lasts a psychotic’s eternity

tell me,
have you ever had a day
like that too?