Request for Transfer: Notes from the Dead Letter Office

The internal pressure has me running out of time.
A white rabbit looking for Alice.
The ticking won’t stop.
The cat is driving me crazy.
The worm is constantly questioning.
The red queen is off her head
in the center of my chest.
Using fictional opiated characters as a vehicle.
I’m not getting anywhere, and everywhere
is the right direction.
We are all mad here.

If a double negative is a positive
Does that mean a double positive is just flattery
The math seems right, but the ethics seem all crooked.
Social masturbation right there in front of everyone.
Lacking a voice that can be heard
Sight unseen rattling in my cage

I woke up one day and realized that I had fallen love with the idea
not the person but the dream grew inside me black like cancer for 13 years
turned sour, a spilled milk metaphor.
at the time the tears spilt much like the lubricant to this rusted machine.
I wanted to be the everything a girl like heroin.
Feeling more creative, physical dependence, considerable salivation
ascribed to two alkaloids, codeine and morphine.
an emotional crutch, I wanted to be a piano

Upon realization that a life of harm would not suffice
Spooning out the rotten bits that kept me going.
Running out of steam, the strings of hope taunt and twisted.
Haunted by echoes dangling
There is something in my eye.

It is ok to laugh when you are dying.
badges of honor, the motions of life.
The stitches of security (blanket) unraveling
the momentum of trial and error
The passage of time, looking through the spring catalog of dreams.
Nothing seems to fit anymore
Tired of the same story and disappearing acts.
Where are my fairy tale niggers at?

Shut up!


(August 2, 2010)