you are two hours away, and my call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system, which means i have to figure out what i'm going to do today

instead of going to the beach.
instead of going for a swim in the pool.
instead of getting a tan.
instead of eating steak off a paper plate at a family cookout.
instead of telling my grandparents about how i'm broke, lonely, depressed fuck up that can never achieve the future i want, and tell them about because of my selfishness, and poor choices; i'm not the good person they think i am, nothing special, just a piece of shit.
instead of taking a shower.
instead of hanging out with friends, who fight all night, get fucked up, and lose their ability to talk.
instead of hanging out with friends who i have to drive around because they don't have a car, money, or a house/apartment we can go to.
instead of playing video games.
instead of going for a walk in the woods.
instead of clubbing.
instead of going to the bar.
instead of meeting a couple from mississippi that is on their honey moon.
instead of going to the casino and wasting loose change on slots.
instead of slamming a bottle of tequila.
instead of brushing my teeth.
instead of ordering the perfector fusion styler off an infomercial at 5am so i can get salon results at home, and forever change the way i style my hair.
instead of saving money.
instead of looking for an apartment, and job in south philadelphia.
instead of moving.
instead of making plans to move.
instead of paying my credit card bill, and debt to my parents.
instead of saving a child in africa for twenty cents a day.
instead of writing a novel.
instead of putting my faith in the promises of other people.
instead of quitting smoking.
instead of turning my dream into a reality by working on it with my hands.
instead of looking forward to tomorrow.
instead of looking forward to today.

i stay in bed,
while waiting on a phone call,
or making them, and failing.
so i settle for texts,
and express how i'm feeling
through abbreviations,
and emoticons,
as i swallow
pieces of wood
and gallons of gasoline,
while i run a fuse
down my throat,
and into my stomach.

i light the fuse.
it crackles and hisses,
as it disappears into my mouth,
and ignites the fuel into flames.
burning from the inside out,
you won't understand
what's happening
until you are sweeping
the ash into a dustpan,
and dumping it in the garbage.

you find a charred note
on a piece of loose leaf,
written in black ink,
and stuck in between
the bones on the left side
of my ribcage.

"the only thing i ever
wanted to do was to be with you.
ps: sorry for overreacting." 

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 writer's block.

or maybe i'm just making excuses, and being lazy.

it's probably both.

the most unproductive 30 days of late night tv, and infomercials.

i'm going to try and write something tomorrow.

but wilkes-barre and i are having going away fucks throughout the next couple of days.

it's bodily fluids, angry faces with scrunched eye brows, depressed lips, undulations,  trepidations, and tears of happiness and relief.