Hiding From The Day

The blinds were shut when I

woke up, so it was dark,

then I opened them up and

it was dark again. Thirsty lips

and quenched leaves. Drowning

wheels sliding in the street. A bird

flying out there but you can't see it,

and she can't see the ground, she could

be minutes from the moon and

she wouldn't see it.

The window's a droplet spiderweb.

The chimney's shaking, in fear, or cold,

it never really said. Turned off every alarm.

Rolled over.

Rolled over.

Rolled over.

Bit into the pillow.

Rolled over.

Then the coffee got cold and the oatmeal stuck

together like there was nothing else for them in

the world, but there's a microwave in this room.

Yeah, there's a microwave in this room.

Went shirtless until I had to pee.

Went smileless until I had to read.

Run down the stairs to ask when mom got divorced.

Try to remember how old I was in 1999. Give up,

Continue begging for praise via e-mail format.

Wonder if I'm missed. Then type "who gives".

Backspace Backspace, then a few times more.

Burn a hole into the bed, "I see you're putting

that new memory foam to good use."

Contemplate the properties of memory foam.

Will it remember me in the trash heap?

Who else, if not memory foam.

Hollow snacks. Cheap walks around the kitchen

to blow off some steam, harden some blood, find

the right state of mind required to compose

a social symphony. Thumb through a T.S Eliot

poem I tried to read, once.

What if the Internet hit an iceberg.

Broken branches backlash.

It's been raining for a day now and

it's painfully weak. It comes in buckets,

little small ones used by my sister to scoop

up nothing on the living room floor.

It ought to come in waves,

actual ones that sound like they're going

to crush the roof in. But never do.

Just some more rain food.

Just another busted gut.

Papers thrown about, marked

with the kiss of calamity.

And I just sent you a text

that was meant for myself

while you were sitting in

a theater watching what I

wanted us to watch ourselves.

Pour, Pour, Pour, Baby.

I spent the day hiding from the things you never say,

and I only wish it could stay this way.