The Rock Forest

i walked down bank street looking for drink. i found myself at the duke. i knew id end up there. i had left the apartment with that destination in mind. the five minute walk seems much longer than it actually is. the familiar shops hold no secrets and even if they did, being hidden for five years makes those secrets hard to find. I didn't expect the crowd to be so big. it was almost packed. the raptors and leafs game were on and so i guess all those starving students without cable were there to take the bread and circus's in with some good ol drink and cheer. the leafs are losing. the raptors are within 2 points. i don't care. at the end of the day they still goto bed and wake up no matter if they win or lose. winning and losing is a part of life and in sports its just a statistic. like African famine victims in the mass media.

saw my table and walked to the bar. the one who is hot took my order. a pint of carlsburg and two shots of yager. i sat down. soon after the drink came. downed the shots in almost as many seconds as it takes to think of your own name. gulped half the pint. ordered another shot.

the third shot took a little longer than expected to show up. my impatience showing through the constant movement of my legs. up. down. up. down. as rapid as the micromachine man talked.

there was a table of good looking women infront of me. they looked shallow and conceited in their dress and movements. i took notice of their hair and eyes and lips but stopped at that. that table isn't for me i say to myself as though i was thinking about going upto them and saying something.

i down the third shot and finish my beer. drop twenty two(cdn) and get the hell out of dodge. six dollar tip for the hottie who never asks questions. i drink alone and too many it seems wrong, but to me it seems normal. whats the difference? i sleep alone. i shower alone. i laugh alone. i play alone. i am alone. why is drinking alone a sin? it is because drinking is social phenomenons. fuck social constructs and fuck what people think about me and the way i act and what i do and what i have done. brisk exit. i don't want to see or hear what people say. their conversations seem so futile and simple.

i ponder the possibilities of impossibilities and in the end i lose. the impossibilities are deep within and the possibilities are far from real. real in the sense of being feasible. whats feasible these days?

my heart goes out to empty ears and to empty emotions. do they understand? do they concur? do i live in reality?

if i were pez my stem would be gray and the head would be of something lifeless. something that lies still and does not utter a word. something simple and uncompromisable. pez sucks.

the days grow longer and yet sleep is in my mind almost all day. however when nightfall comes there is no chance.

i forget the feeling of the old routine but god damn i crave it. i crave the scent and i crave the indescribable feeling i get when boris talks to me. boris is dead. i killed him. fuck boris. why did/does boris have such a hold on me? why does she have such a hold on me? an involuntary hold on me for i know if she could she would let go. she has. i haven't.

there seems to be something about the whole thing that puzzles me. i fear the unexpected and i hope for the unrealistic. i hope i hope i choke up with tears that refuse to come out. the bags under my eyes are full of tears and for whatever reason they refuse to leave. they refuse to leave me like a subdermal zit refuses to pop.

my mind is a flutter of activity. seconds of the day turn into hours and hours turn into weeks. i speak the same thing every time i write a swintry, yet every time i read over what I have written the meaning is different. do i make sense to people? do i fucking make sense?

i should have had one more shot, but to be honest i really didn't feel like waking up tomorrow in a pool of my own drewl trying to remember if i vomited or not. last time that happened i found my t-shirt covered in it and the bathroom smelt horrid.

no matter if i drink or if i don't i wake up with a splitting head-ache and a feeling of total defeat.

i wake up slow and sulky. the shower helps and the playlist that replaces the other one opens my eyes. classical at night. punk in the morning.

once on a canoe trip at camp we went through a petrafied forest. the stumps were erie and cold. i felt at home. paddle on camper.

Trying To Sleep

i tried to sleep but my tossing and turning would not let me lay still. sitting up crosslegged i ponder things and then laying back down i ponder more. i tried to cry. i think i need to. i think i need to just let something out. something big. something big just waiting for the right moment to jump out and scare the fuck out of me. like when i was a kid. covers on my feet. the covers protected me from that man who was going to grab my feet if they became uncovered. i crave things i dont want and cant have. two things. one i dont want because of the other and the other i cant have because of lots of reasons. i love the laugh. i love the smile i love the way it all fits together. im a man of my word and my word will prevail. its up to them now. its up to the ones ive given good reason to make up minds and for choices i wish i didnt have to make i know that answers wont come without some sort of confusion frustration and benign delight. i have never let my shadow answer and my point of view is clouded by uncertain thoughts and uncertain futures. the only thing that is certain is that i do not want past mistake made again and i tremble thinking that is impossible.