Pink Paisley Patterned Tie on the Floor

Posted: July 10, 2012 in hidden admonishment

“P” always offers up the best barrage of alliteration.
“P” and his dyslexic friend, “B.”

Sammy is gone.
Sammy is gone.
Sammy is gone.

Sammy is gone, and I’m freezing cold with goose-flesh
during a record heat wave
heading off a nosebleed in a blind alley at 2am
with work around the corner
climbing up the wall, because I haven’t been able to sleep
since I let you lead.

You remind me of someone who doesn’t exist
never existed

I haven’t been able to sleep since I left.

I haven’t been able to sleep.

I don’t want to see you when I close my eyes
and I don’t want to wake up thinking I have a year’s time
that expired four fucking years ago.
I don’t want to struggle for ten minutes closing that gap
that gap
that gaping void in the reciprocity laws
vacant of an honor code
and full of self-recrimination.

I don’t want to think about it anymore.

What sort of dubious logic am I drawing on now that tells me I’m strong enough to make any more mistakes?
Isn’t it just an attempt to backtrack; looking for something
that I was already told doesn’t, hasn’t, and never will


Pine needles prick the back of my throat and blanket the ground.
Christian time is linear, but Ancient Greek history is cyclical.

Sammy is gone.

No one should ever stay here with me, and I never leave.
Once again, it’s all on me.

I don’t remember which side of the sidewalk I walked on anymore, but I remember switching sides.
There were dead sparrows everywhere.
I lived in my imagination from the beginning onward.

You’re still alive
in my head.
Sometimes, you even acknowledge my desire to be acknowledged by you
in my own goddamned head.

You’re indifferent to me and forbidden to live in my own goddamned head.
What’s it going to take?
What’s it going to take to forget?

No one cares that I still love you.
It isn’t you, but I sure as fuck can’t stand the shit in my head

so lead the way.

Lead the way out
or in
or through
or down.

Lead the way.
You remind me of someone I don’t really want to forget,
but you promise a way to forget.

Go ahead and show me that there’s nothing to remember, but don’t do this halfassed shit that leaves me sleepless without Sammy pinned into a trip I don’t want to take to deal with shit that’s never going to knit together properly.

Lose the girlfriend, and we’ll talk.


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