remember that one time? how long ago was it? probably too long ago to be vivid anymore. that’s how it goes. that’s how it went. maybe. memory is speculative at best. the past is always so long ago even if it was only recently past. and the vivid leaves as soon as the experience does.

so it’s a vague life living on a collection of incorrect coincidences being most inopportune at the time when time was without time for further consultation.

but something else is coming up anyway and who knows if it’ll be a major life event or if it’ll kill you but watch out for the updates. watch and try to make it vivid. add color where the future is bi-chromatic if able to be seen at all.
and when there was a loss for words what was really gone?

one time there was a chance to say something about that one time but the time has passed. the moment is dead, gone, buried in memories.

and when there was hell to pay, about how much did that cost? what currency was exchanged? what was the charge for? will the debt be carried over into the afterlife?
yesterday it was easy to assume the routine would be the same and it is so there’s that.

for better or worse is no better nor any worse than same old same old and the yeah yeah responses to be returned without so much as a concerned look attached to a face fast set to depart.
but then again there was that one time, you remember, that one time when it was within reach. when what was had wasn’t good enough and there wasn’t a reason to settle for less than what might be. you remember? it’s memorable even if it was only that one time.
took out a loan for another time. calculated and counted on hope but you wouldn’t cosign. maybe it was for the best. could be for the worst. who knows? what’s there to compare it to? what’s a comparison worth anyway?
who’s been more often read than whoever wrote home sweet home in latch-hook? and when there’s no place like home what does that mean for the rest of the world? oh, and to retreat a bit, the author of ‘welcome’ must have trillions of views by now standing on the stoop with salt on boots eager for a drink and some goddamn sympathy for once.

hell, life isn’t easy. take it from somebody who’s been out there and in here actually living almost every day for decades. living and remembering. remembering and trying to find something to focus on but always coming away from feeling sorry. feeling and then being. just once, can somebody else be sorry for a second? it’s been a series of apologies for longer than should be remembered but they always add form to the vagaries of yesterday. whenever that yesterday was without a shape to fill space but gaseous enough to make do. to make us feel full. to make us be full enough for the moment.
whatever words were said it’s up for debate now. watershed moments are lighthouses to avoid in the dark when those waves of other days come back. when a respite is not all it needs to be.
it’s what it was then it’ll be what it will be. what it’ll never be is what it is. to be current is to be a conversation. something a word might change.


Every Now If Not Again (Capacity Pt. 24)

Every Now If Not Again (Capacity Pt. 24)

I know I speak too often in ‘sometimes’ but nothing is ever ‘every time’ or ‘all the time’ is it? I mean, can you have anything more than once? Or, is it now or nothing? How do we accept our endings? Do we call it ‘happy’ just because it’s over? Yeah, sometimes we have to. I congratulate my losses for being able to leave.

Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before (Capacity Pt. 17)

Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before (Capacity Pt. 17)

I can’t tell you the last time I had a good day. Furthermore it’s hard to recall the last time I even woke up with a pleasant dream still lingering in my head from those last moments of sleep. Sometimes even my daydreams are depressing. Nostalgia is more like a horror story for me. To be sentimental is to bring on the supernatural beings of the past  bent on further destroying me from the inside out. The past is a poltergeist. Everything that goes has a way of coming back. Today is hanging in the suspense of when. Tomorrow is already a bad memory.

It’s Just Like It Was Said (Capacity Pt. 8)

It’s Just Like It Was Said (Capacity Pt. 8)

Sometimes you have to sit back and listen. Those times aren’t always easy but you don’t want to miss a thing. Some things are more important than others. Some statements matter more than others.

Whenever I see a press conference I get worried. Who’s the mark? Who’s going to have to pay for it? Who’s going to feel the pain of the consequences? Every statement has consequences especially when it’s said by somebody with more money than you.


“We, as your city council, have everything under control. There are plans underway to control for all the possible outcomes. We have the best mathematicians and scientists hard at work on the problems. We are working with CapCorp to come up with real solutions to get us through this difficult time and we’re proud to present CapCorp Tower 2 as the first step towards turning this city around.”


I love building up this town but now I’m worried? Why do we need another tower? What kind of solutions are possible? And wait, is the problem that bad? Do I have more to be worried about than I thought? How long have we been going in the wrong direction? What’s the right direction? And how will another tower help?

New Work in Inferior Planets

New Work in Inferior Planets

“when I say we sometimes I mean I and the voices I’ve heard or the voices I’m searching for. and sometimes when I say us, you can join in. and sometimes when I say you, I can’t imagine who I’m thinking of. and sometimes when I say they, it’s about me. and sometimes when they don’t like it, I revert back to I and start again.”

Read the rest here:

Now And Again

Our heart. Yes, ours. If only ever. What a want to share one with someone/everyone else.


All is lost but we’ll find it again. I promise if you promise too.


I’ll never wish for sleep. I only ever want to be awake. I don’t want to miss a minute of when things get good. Get great. Become what they could always have been.

I wan to witness equality. All I need to see is consistency then I can rest in peace.


I’m trying to keep a little laughter in me but it’s getting hard to do. Somebody told me what to do. Dig into your half of a heart and give me some sound advice. A sound. A lyric to sing to myself when I’m feeling lonely. A verse to hold onto for the uphills when my legs are burning. Give me the song that’ll have me begging to meet the sirens. The sirens here to help us. The sounds of emergencies averted. The sound of a miracle worker’s footfall.


Justice isn’t blind. It’s bound and gagged and I don’t know who’s getting off but I know it didn’t come cheap.


Don’t trust me with your money I’ll bet the house on us. We have to win. We didn’t come this far to lose even if we’re losing now. Now and again.

Charge You Later

This too shall not pass. Never found a break ever stolen or given away. Time is a concept wasted on me. Eternity is safely kept while moods shift through a situation which remains the same.

State of mind never changed the state of the state. The images remain the same on the other side of the glasses’ frame, the eyes’ lenses. The unbiased camera.

For certain, I look for confirmation. I just wish it wasn’t so easy. I was hoping I’d have to walk for a hundred miles.


The sweetest thing my mother ever said is, “we’ll all die some day.”


Hedonism comes with fine print and asterisks.


I’ve only got myself to blame. This lousy body that pushed on when doctors counted it out from the start but mom said, “We can do this. Now give me my boy.”

Maybe she didn’t say that but she was stuck with this body too. Once again. On the outside. On the other side of the womb.


What is this world coming to that hasn’t already come?


Shut up. Sure, why not? Whatever I say to me sounds good enough for me.


Where’s the line? The limit? The border?

Where’s the intersection? The cross section? A place where endings meet?


Nobody ever loved me more than the one stuck with me and that’s how it should be I suppose. But how much did she love me? I hope the bar was set high. Of course, there’s been no competition anyways.


Do you remember when you didn’t grow out of that phase?

Do you remember me? No, me neither.


We were all someone different at some other point in time.

What lucky souls we all were back then.


How many times did you have to apologize for breathing?

Did your mom teach you how to take up as much space as possible just to combat the tendency to shrink and to ward off the attacks of minimizing?

Did you learn more ways to fight off fading? To erase the eraser.

Did your mom teach you everything you needed to know to be secure in your lack of masculinity?


Did everybody else attempt to change that?


If I ever got a break it was only for commercials. There’s always something else to be sold. That’s what friends are for. Family are always around to pawn your old self on you. And strangers, well, they’ll see what you’re willing to take and charge you later.