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.

Thank You Benjamin James Spurlock For Actually Giving Me Good Advice That I Think Is Going To Save My Life And Keep This Blog Going. Shout Outs Also to Jay, Eli, Elizabeth, Shannon, My Mom, My Aunt, And Lone Coug (All of You Are The Only True Friends Left In My Life.)

"Some people are just fucking crazy. I know you're going to say so are you and so is everyone, but I mean, some people are actually really fucking crazy, and pretend like they have their shit together because they think they are content or normal now because of the prescribed drugs their on or because they have made a change in their life or have never done anything wrong. That's bullshit, because no one has their shit together, and from what I can tell they are just as fucked up, if not more fucked up than you, because at least you acknowledge your issues and take responsibility, instead of blaming everyone else, or just being that narcissistic by believing that they have no problems or that the fucked up shit they do isn't a problem at all. I know your empathetic but sometimes people are just actually FUCKED UP."

"Fuck'em."

"Fuck'em."

"Fuck'em."

"Fuck'em."

"Fuck'em."

The hardest part is seeing/listening/experiencing the positive qualities of these people. And even through all this shit, I still enjoy their company and miss not being able to talk with them. Because deep down I'm scared to lose anymore friends. Deep Down, I'm scared to be alone.

Goin' Nowhere Fast

Yesterday at work while I was throwing empty cardboard boxes in the bailer, I noticed a giant mechanical spider with a broken left front leg, and an abdomen empty, opened, and exposed, missing two double D batteries, which made its whole body lifeless.

It was two days after Halloween, and plush snowmen, reindeer, and santas have already replaced its ass on the shelves.

Two days after Halloween, and its smiling sewn on mouth and plastic eyes are suffocating in trash.

Right then, I made a wish to anyone or anything.

I made a wish to switch places, to give the giant mechanical spider my life, so it could do something better with it than what I'm currently doing (nothing.) I want it to experience life after Halloween. To fall in love. Get a good paying job. Be attractive. Suave. Sophisticated. Have sex. Have children. Earn medals and plaques. Get handshakes from old men. You know, actually accomplish something, instead of dragging other people down.

After this week, after this month, after this year, getting thrown out and crushed by a trash compactor is something I can actually look forward to.

But nothing happened, because nothing ever happens; both of us were still stuck in the same shitty positions.

Crying and embarrassed.

I went to my car and did some drugs and smoked a cig to collect myself because I can't have my coworkers thinking that I'm crazy.

When I got back to the deli, my coworker Ria asked me, "Mv, what's wrong?"

I looked up at here with tears swelling on the edges of my eyelids and told her about another failed attempt at love, about the spider, about how I can't take it anymore, about the surge in drug use, and about the reality of what it feels like to lose my sanity.

She tilted her head, looked at me with her powder blue eyes and said, "Awwww, Mv it's going to be okay. But you can't lose yourself in your own thoughts, and in pills. You can't change people, or how the world is. I know it seems like every time you try and put yourself out there, you get shot down. But you gotta keep going."

I started to cry, and she leaned in, gave me a hug, and pressed my face against her shoulder.

"You know, if it was 15 years ago, and I didn't have kids and wasn't married, it would be deli love between you and me. I'm sorry things never seem to work out, but I know this girl at the Duryea store who works in the deli, who would be perfect for you. She's real skinny, cute, and likes books just like you. I wish I had her number so I could hook you guys up."

We broke our embrace.

"It's okay, I'm just too much trouble. Too much emotional baggage. No one is attracted to a crazy person."

"Mv, it's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. You working Wednesday?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. You like plants? Cause I got this plant I want to bring in and give you. It'll help take your mind off all this shit. You know? Give you something to do."

"Yeah that be great. Thank you. Sorry for acting this way. I'm just so fucked in the head."

She grabbed my shoulders.

"Mv, look at me, it's going to be okay. If you let it get to you it will. You just gotta let go. You just gotta move on."

Later that night, still dwelling on facts I can't change in my bedroom, I hear the sounds of the mechanical spider's body being crushed in the back of a garbage truck. Sitting next to the window, listening. Heartbroken. Still crying.

It got to me.