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japanisgay:

…you ask your ten year old brother if he knows where the broom is,
and he responds with,

“Why? Do you want to kill yourself with it?”

*killsself* *with broom*

japanisgay:

you want parliaments, cherries, plums and boxed wine.
bitchy models and my closests friends.
lecture hall bets, and charles bukowski.

I’m confused. 

convenience stores. train station.

why are we in the same world.

why are there coconuts shaped like shrimp.

who is my mother.

japanisgay:

I was at the bar,
can’t stop thinking about the Czar
but dude — where’s my car?
Aint got no hoes left to plow
so I became more conventional and
banged my poppa’s chowchow
…on the pavement until it exploded
there was nothing I could do but
I did it anyway. yeah, I did
I took my shirt off. twisted around my
toes and hanged myself like a nigger
Children threw used needles at me
and that is the true story of how I contracted AIDS.

- 02.27.12 

japanisgay:

and by now, I suppose I understand that if I didn’t know me I’d do the same.

(but not fully because that isn’t how this works,
but these bouts bring clarity among other heinous things that I won’t think of now…
and I’m sure I can’t sleep,
not when I can breathe the air and remember why things fall into step like
one two jocularity— and why I made decisions that I contradicted, essentially)  

japanisgay:

the smell of the coffee’s reminded me today…
I was seventeen and was formally kicked out of my parents house for the first time.
I was smoking cigarettes then. Generous amounts of ganja and a few other things here and there. But I was still closer to whole.

I was in love with someone who’d broken my heart twice before, and wouldn’t stop for another year or so.

It was winter time, you’d already dropped out and I let you stay in bed each morning because the driveway was steep and the cold air stung.
The new scenery driving each day was comforting, and I’d rush home to greet you.

It was that. That feeling between the empty spaces of the morning kiss goodbye and the breath held until three pm.

Sometimes, I’m sure I won’t ever feel that feeling again… 

japanisgay:

Untouched bento box
I left it there, waiting…
…tears mingled with the rice,

better than soy sauce 

I turned toward the window,

that tree is coming straight through the window tonight…

…there are no such things as ghosts.
 

…
I’ll bring you ink. And a cigarette. 
And… 

…let me run away, up and down the stairs.
I fell on the way up.

I returned to find fresh snow blowing in from an open door.

The box lay closed now. All but empty except for a
Botan sticker.

It wasn’t a cat,
so you left it for me. 

japanisgay:

read maps or write letters,

or have anything meaningful to say.

and it’s more of a spectre now,

maybe remorse 

or mutual misanthropy

…you won’t find what you are looking for

and I won’t find what I am looking for…

left with the yaghan natives,

bloodied by bit tongues,

now look at me in my mind rot.

japanisgay:

ceiling spiders.

the kitchen had a checkerboard floor

and you ruined it.

I once found a dead lizard outside of that door,

I was just over four and excuse me for not forgetting that this is the worst week of my life.

oh no i made another arbitrary/nonsensical text post on my own blog oh jesus christ why can’t I ever sleep. 

japanisgay:

I fell into you last night and I swore I was dying,
in the space between sleep and the walls
where I was a refugee

there is but a day before you’re (hopefully) gone forever

maybe you know this,
but why you left when I gave in is something I don’t want to know.

Well, this all makes too much terrible sense

—to bed.