it sucks that i think about you when i know i shouldn't.
you're a waste of my time and don't give a shit about my time.
and yet i think about you nonetheless.
natheless, if my smart blog had a say in the matter.
why do you occupy my thoughts when you've not occupied my life for a single second this past month.
has it only been a month?
i seem to have lost the grains of sand that represent your time away
or perhaps my own.
i tell myself it's just concern for a fellow human --
are you alive? are you well? what's new?
surely any stranger could pose these questions.
but i'm me and you're you.
and i can't help but phantasize about what could have been
or could be.
my mind is an open book and the pages all blank
and the only pen is held in my own fingers
and God only knows if you have any concern
flowing from your side of the abyss
I could very well be talking to a black hole
and you're not listening anyway so what does the receiver's identity matter?
i feel very high-school
in that i'm concerned with pettiness
and i remember that night when i snogged with chris on the couch
as the other (elitists? or so i thought back in the early-2000s) puffed on their hookah pipe
and it felt good and i could let go for once
even if i knew he had another life
(and, as it turns out, a girlfriend)
but i really didn't care because it felt good being touched and kissed
after so long without a connection with charles.
is it strange that chrises pop up in my life so often?
chris ardrey
chris sommerfield (gay, might i add)
chris duffy (ugh. "if you've got time to clean, you've got time to lean?!" who makes their own catchphrase, really??)
chris "goat-boy" -- why the fuck can't i think of his name right now?
i know i have a beanie baby that resembles him
but can't remember which came first.
i think it's the egg,
or perhaps the chicken.
someone said the latter
but my mind tells me the former is more logical --
though said logic is based on the Bible
and despite what the Chris says,
i don't know exactly how valid its points are
why am i listening to trance?
damn, you've managed to tunnel your way into my psyche
the termite image was not incorrect.
if only i had my phone to prove to you how long ago i thought of the metaphor
but then again, my phone doesn't tell you dates of my memos
unless you go deep inside to the coding
which i really don't know how to access.
perhaps i should use this colt45 to my advantage
and rekindle friendships online with this facebook shit
but i can't seem to get myself re-entangled with the yarn
that i really only cared about on the surface before.
i feel like i've typed enough to make the scroll bar a small square
but it's still a rectangle
and i still haven't bought blair crimmins tickets
even though conan seems to urge me in that direction
where is max weinberg when you need him?
apparently right behind you, if your name is bruce springsteen!
that is a funny joke that i'm about to post on facebook.
is it bad that i filter out my bullshit
to come across some fool's gold?
you'd think i'd be screening things for REAL gold
but i can't promise that. sometimes it's more fun to have something that looks like the real thing
because the real thing is too expensive.
is life too expensive to be real?
is the matrix accurate?
perhaps i should watch that again.
it just occurred to me that i'm online
and can do that from the computer
but now i'm remembering that i'm listening to trance --
something you seem to think you led me to.
and yes, you led me to the term...
but as it turns out, i've been drawn to the genre since before i knew its official name
what are you up to these days?
are you alive?
are you well?
i really want to know how you're doing
even though i know that would open a can of worms
perhaps he'll fill the hole
even though there shouldn't be a hole to fill
why is there a hole to fill?
shouldn't my hole be full
(though, of course, it can't be because i'm not a porn star
and even they sleep from time to time sans-dick.
i used to fear i'd get stuck to a man if we fell asleep...
...together...
i know that's silly now
or do i?
but i still don't want to fall asleep inside one another
though to be fair, you're not physically inside me
only mentally.
and him psychically.
how did we get here?
when did my eyes open the door
that you strolled into?
did you take advantage
or did i GIVE you advantage?
perhaps i've always stood here waiting to be taken advantage of?
the Whitest Kids You Know joke that "she was asking for it"
(by wearing purple, she was enticing "The Grapist")
maybe i really wanted you to come my way?
maybe i waited until you were available
(you were technically "available" ever since your move north
but not fully available until you realized she had moved on).
and then we played games
(candyland or clue when it could have been twister?)
instead of following the path ahead of us --
who wants six pegs in your back when you can be free until the end of the game of life?
and i continued on my pre-destined path
and you walked on your alotted path
and we hurt each other
even though we wanted something else
we settled for the convenient, instantaneous...
all the while, we knew there was more.
when will our peninsulas meet?
are we fated to be separated by blue water
or will we admit to our failures?
but then again,
perhaps i'm wrong and we are just me and another person who doesn't give a shit.
my phantasies don't work if i can't imagine you in them
but they're only phantasies because you're not there.
you're a waste of my time and don't give a shit about my time.
and yet i think about you nonetheless.
natheless, if my smart blog had a say in the matter.
why do you occupy my thoughts when you've not occupied my life for a single second this past month.
has it only been a month?
i seem to have lost the grains of sand that represent your time away
or perhaps my own.
i tell myself it's just concern for a fellow human --
are you alive? are you well? what's new?
surely any stranger could pose these questions.
but i'm me and you're you.
and i can't help but phantasize about what could have been
or could be.
my mind is an open book and the pages all blank
and the only pen is held in my own fingers
and God only knows if you have any concern
flowing from your side of the abyss
I could very well be talking to a black hole
and you're not listening anyway so what does the receiver's identity matter?
i feel very high-school
in that i'm concerned with pettiness
and i remember that night when i snogged with chris on the couch
as the other (elitists? or so i thought back in the early-2000s) puffed on their hookah pipe
and it felt good and i could let go for once
even if i knew he had another life
(and, as it turns out, a girlfriend)
but i really didn't care because it felt good being touched and kissed
after so long without a connection with charles.
is it strange that chrises pop up in my life so often?
chris ardrey
chris sommerfield (gay, might i add)
chris duffy (ugh. "if you've got time to clean, you've got time to lean?!" who makes their own catchphrase, really??)
chris "goat-boy" -- why the fuck can't i think of his name right now?
i know i have a beanie baby that resembles him
but can't remember which came first.
i think it's the egg,
or perhaps the chicken.
someone said the latter
but my mind tells me the former is more logical --
though said logic is based on the Bible
and despite what the Chris says,
i don't know exactly how valid its points are
why am i listening to trance?
damn, you've managed to tunnel your way into my psyche
the termite image was not incorrect.
if only i had my phone to prove to you how long ago i thought of the metaphor
but then again, my phone doesn't tell you dates of my memos
unless you go deep inside to the coding
which i really don't know how to access.
perhaps i should use this colt45 to my advantage
and rekindle friendships online with this facebook shit
but i can't seem to get myself re-entangled with the yarn
that i really only cared about on the surface before.
i feel like i've typed enough to make the scroll bar a small square
but it's still a rectangle
and i still haven't bought blair crimmins tickets
even though conan seems to urge me in that direction
where is max weinberg when you need him?
apparently right behind you, if your name is bruce springsteen!
that is a funny joke that i'm about to post on facebook.
is it bad that i filter out my bullshit
to come across some fool's gold?
you'd think i'd be screening things for REAL gold
but i can't promise that. sometimes it's more fun to have something that looks like the real thing
because the real thing is too expensive.
is life too expensive to be real?
is the matrix accurate?
perhaps i should watch that again.
it just occurred to me that i'm online
and can do that from the computer
but now i'm remembering that i'm listening to trance --
something you seem to think you led me to.
and yes, you led me to the term...
but as it turns out, i've been drawn to the genre since before i knew its official name
what are you up to these days?
are you alive?
are you well?
i really want to know how you're doing
even though i know that would open a can of worms
perhaps he'll fill the hole
even though there shouldn't be a hole to fill
why is there a hole to fill?
shouldn't my hole be full
(though, of course, it can't be because i'm not a porn star
and even they sleep from time to time sans-dick.
i used to fear i'd get stuck to a man if we fell asleep...
...together...
i know that's silly now
or do i?
but i still don't want to fall asleep inside one another
though to be fair, you're not physically inside me
only mentally.
and him psychically.
how did we get here?
when did my eyes open the door
that you strolled into?
did you take advantage
or did i GIVE you advantage?
perhaps i've always stood here waiting to be taken advantage of?
the Whitest Kids You Know joke that "she was asking for it"
(by wearing purple, she was enticing "The Grapist")
maybe i really wanted you to come my way?
maybe i waited until you were available
(you were technically "available" ever since your move north
but not fully available until you realized she had moved on).
and then we played games
(candyland or clue when it could have been twister?)
instead of following the path ahead of us --
who wants six pegs in your back when you can be free until the end of the game of life?
and i continued on my pre-destined path
and you walked on your alotted path
and we hurt each other
even though we wanted something else
we settled for the convenient, instantaneous...
all the while, we knew there was more.
when will our peninsulas meet?
are we fated to be separated by blue water
or will we admit to our failures?
but then again,
perhaps i'm wrong and we are just me and another person who doesn't give a shit.
my phantasies don't work if i can't imagine you in them
but they're only phantasies because you're not there.
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