cj: "you know you wear more thongs than me."

underwear project piece. this week.

two great artists who deserve a shit ton of recognizion

so my girlfriend c.j. parlante and my best friend elly dallas are both really good artists.

they also post really cool shit that you should check out.

c.j. paralante (blog link: http://bottledselfesteem.tumblr.com/):

elly dallas (link: http://ellydallas.tumblr.com/):

both of you are so talented and you're art makes my entire body bend into a smile. i would feel the same about it even if we weren't friends. please keep creating. please keep inspiring me. thank you for existing.

elephants' graveyard

i am on auto pilot;
legs taking tired steps,
pores and wounds
dripping sweat, blood, and lactic acid,
which are absorbed into the earth,
stumbling across dirt, to asphalt,
to sidewalks,  over welcome mats,
across beige tiles, down wooden stairs,
to a carpeted plain, which calloused feet
traverse, until they can't go no more,
and reach the navy blue fabric couch,
where splintered bones, and yellowed skeletons 
are scattered across the floor.

collapse.

my thoughts about the future have changed:

no longer thinking about
how much money
i'll need for cigs, credit card bills,
medicine, rent, fines, new shoes,
and moving to philadelphia.

no longer thinking about
what animal i'll have to kill
or plant i'll have to harvest
because empty stomachs
have stopped crossing my mind.
the same can be said about
personal appearance, and hygiene.

no longer thinking about
what could've been,
or what i could've done.
what doctor or shrink
i could have seen.

no longer thinking about participating.

no longer thinking,
just doing because
different parts
are shutting down
one by one by one.

wheezing, instead of breathing;
my lungs have become frayed nets
that are losing there ability to
capture oxygen
with each passing second.
with each attempted breath.

this is a personal experience,
which is why i have to go
alone, because this legend
is a reality.
it is a well kept secret
that each of us learn through
instinct.

the hazy glow
from a late night
reality tv show
about people competing
to be deep fried food masters
illuminates my mottled
grey skin; this is
the difference between
life and death.

i feel the sinews of my biceps
and the joints in my fingers
snapping like branches
under foot, as i check
my cell phone.

no new messages.
no missed calls.

i realize it's uselessness,
and break it by slamming
it against a wall
watching one utile piece
multiply into many dysfunctional ones.
all different shapes and sizes
now exposed to climate controlled air.
useless.

it's impossible to be perfect all the time.
it's impossible to make good on every promise.
it's impossible to not have regrets.
it's impossible to go back in time.
it's impossible to live forever.
but
it's possible to love.
it's possible to apologize.
it's possible to forgive.
it's possible to not be a shitty person for your entire life.
it's possible to change.
it's possible to live.

as i close my eyes,
i have one last thought:
i see a warm smile
slowly expanding across
your sullen face
that is unable to
stop the tears
tumbling down
your cheeks;
you kiss me on the forehead,
then my right cheek,
and finally on my mouth
with your saline soaked lips.
i wrap your body in my arms,
and squeeze as hard as i can
you into me,
me into you,
meld together
until we become one.

thank you for teaching me the definition
of love, meaning, and happiness
without the use of a dictionary and worksheets.

the wind will erase my footprints,
while the lions, dogs, worms, beetles, and vultures
erase my physical existence,
disassembling my anatomy
one bite at a time.

no one will know what happened to me,
but it won't be a mystery
because
all of us have to die sometime.

if every day is like today then wake me up tomorrow (prologue) {rough draft and to be continued}

last night you told
me, "we need to talk."
as we drove
back to my aunt's
house up
luzerne mountain.
in the darkness,
my mind was
a rung out washcloth
that was already starting
to become cold.
i lit a cigarette,
and told you,
"can we talk tomorrow?
please i just need one day,
one day without stress,
and bullshit. i'm sorry,
but i just need a day.
one day, cause i don't
think i can take a
serious discussion today.
it's just too much.
every day is just too much.
i just need a break."
standing at the edge
of a cliff kicking rocks
into free fall with
the tips of my sneakers,
i thought putting it
off would coax me
away from the ledge,
but the world keeps spinning.
i couldn't see your
face. i was blind.
i didn't even know
you were standing right
behind me;
i thought you were
still in the car.
you quietly said,
"okay."
i was deaf.
i heard you,
but missed
the sadness sewn into
that one word.

okay.


when we got home,
i smoked a g-bong,
then a cig out of
my bedroom window,
as you were by
yourself in bed
on the computer.
after i finished smoking,
i ate a bowl of cereal,
and laid down next to
you.
tired,
we decided to watch cartoons,
instead of having sex.
i kissed you goodnight,
and passed out next to
you, in your arms
because there is
always tomorrow.

tomorrow.
tomorrow
we were driving to philly
to get your stuff
so you could move out.
tomorrow
was going
to be one day closer
to moving into
an apartment in vermont,
getting jobs, getting clean,
swimming in the lake,
paying bills, going on walks,
and grocery shopping together.
tomorrow
i would cook you dinner,
and do the dishes with you.
tomorrow
i would scratch your back,
and use my tongue and lips
to massage your skin.
tomorrow
we would talk
about our past, present, and future.
tomorrow
your hand would still be in mine.
tomorrow
you would still be here,
and we would still be together.
tomorrow
i would be happy
just because you
will be at my side,
and will be there
every tomorrow
after that,
which is
all i need in life.
tomorrow
is exciting,
and i'm looking
forward to it.

my dreams were filled with
fireworks, endorphins,
your naked body in mine,
and your words, in the time between.

tomorrow became today
when i opened my eyes.

you were already awake,
preparing for what i asked you
to put off.
for something
i had completely forgot about
when i was unconscious:
the talk.

my mind isn't a rung out washcloth anymore;
it is a tea kettle filled with water,
and your words are the flame.
the water comes to a boil,
and the whistling sound
never stops.

i am on my side
with my back towards you
as you wrap your arms around me.

"we need to talk..."
is never the start
to anything good.

your voice sounds like
a piano that is out of tune.
shaky, nervous, and sad.

tomorrow is now today,
and tomorrow is unpredictable,
and never goes as planned.

"first, i just want to say
i love you, and always will.
you are everything to me, mv.
you are my life, my soul, my world,
my happiness. i never thought i would
love anyone until i met you. i want
to spend the rest of my life with you,
and be with you forever,
but,
right now this isn't going to work out."

i am back on the ledge with
one foot ready to put its
weight down on thin air.
ready for my body to follow.

you grip me tighter,
as the tears start to metabolize
in the corners of my eyes.

"i can't go to vermont.
i can't stay here with you any more.
this just isn't going to work.
you can't keep supporting me;
it isn't practical.
and i can't just run from my problems.
i talked to my mom yesterday.
she talked to my p.o.,
and she's not going to put me in jail.
if i go back to philly,
they are going to put me into a program to get clean,
i have a job set up that is going to pay really well,
and my mom said she's going to send me $100 a week
if i do what i have to do, and stick with it."

the whistling sound gets louder and louder
inside of my head and there is no way to stop it.

the dam breaks and the tears start cascading
down my face into my pillow.
i keep my eyes closed;
i don't want to remember the visuals
of this moment in time.

"plus, i have to go to those court dates,
and take care of that whole situation
with my roommate after she robbed me.
it's just not going to work,
no matter how much we want it to.
we can't just hope that will get jobs,
and be able to support ourselves,
pay off our debts, and make it.
i want it to, but it's not.
when we go to philly today,
we are not getting my stuff.
you're just going to drop me off,
and go back home.
if you still want to go to vermont, you can.
i'll try to come and visit once a month,
but i can't go.
or you can stay here, and i'll visit as much
as i can. or you can look
for a place in philly because after my roommate
robbed me, my landlord won't allow anyone else live here.
we can make it work.
it's going to be hard,
but we can do it.
i have never loved anyone as much as i love you,
but like i said, i need to do this."

i start to shake, as the tears
and pain come faster and faster.
i wipe the snot dripping from my nose
into my spaceman sheets,
trying to pretend that this isn't real,
even though i can't escape the fact that it is.
i am not a magician.
and don't know any miracle workers.

"no matter what i love you.
please don't forget that.
please don't stop loving me."

you are crying now too,
still holding me in your arms.
trying to hold me together,
even though i'm completely falling apart.
shutting down.
this is what hurt.
this is what pain feels like.
riding a bike with
a collapsed lung is nothing
compared to this.

"so what do you have to say?
what are you thinking?"

silence.

minutes pass, that feel like years.

i am in total freefall,
watching the ledge i was standing
on with you grow smaller and smaller,
farther and farther away,
waiting for the impact.

more time passes.

at this point we are both crying
as much as two human bodies can.

"please just say something."

your words have dissolved my tongue,
all that comes out of my mouth is hot moist air.

"i need to take a shower."
is another way of saying
i need to leave.
i need to get out of here.
so i grab my keys, wallet,
and a fist full of drugs
while i'm in the bathroom,
and turn the shower on.
i look at myself in the mirror,
and see the shattered visions
of the future i planned
in the reflection of my eyes.
it resembles the half eaten corpse
of a decaying elephant
dead in the tall green grass of the serengeti
being consumed
by vultures and flies.

i tried to escape out of the other bathroom door
that leads into the hall,
and avoids the bedroom entirely,
but you opened the bathroom door
and walked in before i got out.
shit.
i was caught. 
but it didn't matter.
nothing mattered.
shut down.
and numb to the world.

"are you seriously going to leave right now?"

i can't even look you in the eyes.
i can't communicate my reasoning,
how i feel, or what i'm thinking.
i can't even say yes or no.

so i just leave.
i leave without saying a word or where i'm going.
i leave without my phone because phones are useless in times like this.
i leave you standing in the bathroom
crying hysterically in the unknown.

i run down stairs, still in my pajamas,
grey penn state sweatpants and a yellow t-shirt,
hop into my car, snort a line, drive five minutes
down the road to frances slocum state park,
and heading for the solitude of the woods.

status update 7/4/2014 (mv swydersky and cj parlante)

mv: i'm saving rainwater in my tear ducts and bottling thunder and lightning in my chest cavity to use on a sunny day.

the tornadoes in my lungs are tangling the wires that make up my nervous system. this is what happens when you put your trust in other people.

i put the teeth i've lost underneath my pillow, and when i wake up they are still there. i guess magic and fairy tales have an age restriction, which i've already past.

whatever teeth are left i've filled with ink. same with my tongue. later tonight i am going to write love poems on the inside of your mouth, behind your ears, and over the rest of your body, even though you are not here. your ghost will have to do.

cj: My hands are ink pens and your body is my stationery. the thunderous roars and blinding flashes of light erupting from your core convey my every thought with utter perfection. You are everything I feel and ever wanted to say or write. I'm struck by a bolt of your beauty and we become one. Together, a perfect storm.

mv: together, we take the world hostage with a deadly virus, and make a list of demands: 1. gold 2. a crate of birthday cake oreos 3. a soccer ball 4. that people should stop acting like dicks 5. a fucking time machine. 6. to leave us alone and let us be together. as we step into the time machine, the world tells us how we will never get away with this. what the world doesn't realize is we are going to go to a time where the statue of limitations has passed. and what the world didn't know was that there wasn't any virus in the first place because we made the whole thing up. bonnie and clyde bitch! the best part of all is our friends are finally dead. ah. you. me. and silence. as it stands, we are the oldest people on earth

late at night, i pull my pants down, go on facebook, and put my butt up against the computer screen so people can finger my asshole by liking what i post or poking me. isn't what those functions are for? self-gratification. anal stimulation. pleasure.

i wait for your phone call, because if i don't hear your voice, i'm too scared to fall asleep. there are monsters under my bed. and one day i will have to fight them.

when i looked up at the sky tonight, i connected the stars with a glow-in-dark marker and the picture it made looked exactly like you. so i laid in the grass on my back as the dew is absorbed by my clothes staring at it until the sun rises, and i fall asleep.

cj: Then I looked down at you from the sky and smiled and arranged more constellations for you to look at before you fell asleep. What you didn't realize was that I was singing you a lullaby with the wind and the hoo's of the owls and the chirps of the crickets. Once I heard the labored breathing of your sleep, I entered your dreams with a time machine and the rest is history.

mv: When you entered my dreams, I was at the bottom of the ocean, lying in a graveyard of shipwrecks, covered in a blanket of sand, and surrounded by a crowd of people who all had the styles and personalities of game show hosts. Suits, ties, sequined dresses, and layer upon layer of make-up. They are hungry, and have weighed out the risks, figuring out I'm an easy meal. You're at the surface screaming for me to wake up. I do. You tell me to swim towards the light. Towards you. I kick my legs as hard as possible until they feel like overheated motors in need of water and an oil change. I keep kicking escaping the crowd before their whitened teeth tear into my flesh. I reach the surface and breathe as you pull me into the boat. I collapse from decompression sickness and start to shake. You wrap a towel around my blue body, rub my temples in circular motions with your index fingers, then kiss me on the forehead, and say, "there, there, you're with me now and everything is going to be okay." While biting your lower lip with a worried look on your face as you paddle away towards our new life which is in the direction of the sunset.         

if every day is like today, then wake me up tomorrow

my first response to waking up,
is closing my eyes.

i know the potential is there
to get out of bed,
to explore the surface of the earth,
to make french toast and sausage,
to expand my vocabulary,
to clean the dirt off my skin and brush my teeth,
to make money,
to clean my bedroom,
to drive two hours down 476 to 76 to oregon ave to you,
to have fun,
to love and feel loved,
to feel fulfilled,
to be content,
happy,
excited for the next sunrise, sunset,
and the time in between;
instead i choose motionlessness.
unconsciousness.
numbness.
i choose to do nothing.
i choose to dream.

i've become immune to alarm clocks,
and the pinging sound my phone makes
when it receives a text message from
someone who wants to hang out with me.  

my veins are filled with mud.
my brain and heart are dead batteries.
that i haven't figured out how to replace,
and i can't afford new ones
so i'm stuck with what i got.
stuck in this situation:
under the covers,
and shivering from an overdose
of air conditioning,
and the presence of your ghost
trying to coax me out
from under the white drywall sky,
loneliness of this room.
and into the sun.
into your warm arms.

i have replaced my hands with shovels to dig a tunnel to you so i can escape this empty bedroom, and watch cartoons with you, while memorizing the contours of each other's bodies with our tongues.

overreacting over radio silence in my bedroom while feeling like i have to throw up because of an impending nervous breakdown; you are on vacation with your friend in atlantic city.

tonight, i can relate to my mother.

i am chain smoking paranoid thoughts, and cope by snorting heroin.
involving you.
involving car accidents, abductions, sexual assault, natural disasters, and shark attacks. 
even though you're probably in the hotel, in a bed, sleeping.

tonight, i am having a spiritual awakening.
in this moment.
for the first time.
i am genuinely concerned about someone after six hours of phone silence.
so i stay up.
watching the phone.
waiting for your name to come across the navy blue screen in white letters.

tonight, i want to talk to you.
because i've ruined my life, hate myself, and want to talk to you about it.
my hiding places are filled beyond max capacity.
in a couple of days, there's no place to go.
like a person dropping through the air without a parachute during the fall.
i know what they are thinking:
panic
anger.
remorse.
his/her loved ones.
hysteria.
past mistakes.
future regrets.
sadness.
"FUCK!"
death.

it's pure fucking horror that no one can understand because there are no survivors.
it's worse than the moment of impact due to the combination of time, loneliness, and watching the ground getting closer, and closer.

tonight, i am falling.
tonight, you are ___ in atlantic city.
tonight i am concerned about the both of us.

drunk dude breaking into your house at 2am kombat

a drunk guy,
who you know
but aren't really friends with,
punches your front door
at 2am wanting
free sex, drugs, and money.

you let him in
because he's
causing a scene
and you can't
have your neighbors
calling the cops.
you can take care
of the situation
by yourself.

the drunk guy,
who you know
but aren't really friends with
is annoyed that you
have a boyfriend,
and gets belligerent
because
you are texting him
about what is happening.

"iiiiiii mean
why you gotta do that?
huh?
he doesn't need to
know whas
fuckin goin on."

Whoooopsies!

you call him a cab,
but he's getting impatient,
and frisky
putting his hands
in the wrong places,
using flawed logic
and shitty pickup lines.

so you destroy
his remaining health with
the 3 move kick punch combo,
then the uppercut,
x-ray move,
jump kick,
and uppercut.

FLAWLESS VICTORY!

as the drunk guy,
who you know
but aren't really friends with
staggers around,
out on his feet,
you hit
back,
down,
down,
left,
right,
triangle,
and rip off his arms
while removing
his head from his
shoulders,
spinal cord still attached,
and pose with it
for selfies
that you take
with your smart phone.

CALYSSA WINS!

FATALITY!

i don't want to sleep or go out today because i'd rather spend my time with you

i play with your body
like a 5 year old
with the teddy bear
that he was given
at his birth.
fingertips.

you hold me
like a newborn,
and whisper words
into my ear
with your tongue,
which protect me
from  myself
while we are
under
a spaceman themed blanket
watching cartoons
at 3am.

you tell me,
"we don't need the world,
we need each other."
and i imagine
falling asleep
in your arms
even after
we become
skeletons.

Standing on the corner outside your house,
cold sweat suppurates
out of the pours
on my lower back
creating a slick that kills otters, fish, sea birds, bull kelp, and dolphins.
i watch the red tail lights grow smaller
before the darkness of the horizon
consumes them.

at different points of the day,
the seconds seem to speed up or slow down,
but, in reality, they don't change;
it's all in my head
like it has always been.

you make it to the hospital,
as i park behind random cars
on a random street
to get well,
and pass the time tonight without tears
under fluorescent orange lights.