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Poetry

Sleep Furiously 1

by a.h.s. boy


This is the first in a series of missives sent to The Ryder magazine, chronicling my adventures upon arrival in Baltimore.


when you say goodbye, think of these things:
have you learned to appreciate silence?
there is a woman in the corner. do you know her?
how many times will you see this sight again? but
the answer will always be never.
there must be an equation for departure written into our DNA.

i have arrived unscathed to a life of adventure, and have yet to meet
anyone who writes like hunter s. thompson, which is probably a good
thing, in terms of marketability, but i haven't anything to sell. 

been sleeping terribly lately, but having wonderful, beautiful dreams.
there are telephones in the house, ringing constantly, and i get angry
quickly. i grit my teeth and think of sex, cigarettes, and milkshakes.
in the morning, my hair is disheveled, i've overslept for nothing, and
the mailbox is still empty. "zen mailbox," i say. does no good, but it
doesn't hurt.

there are fourteen good reasons to kill myself, right now. i can't tell
you what they are because i've made a vow to save the world, and, still
unable to intuit the deep value of the spaces between these words, the
pauses, ruptures, intentional breaks in continuity, i've found that
speaking enigmatically often adequately replaces the awkward gestures
of silence. not everyone looks good with a buddha smile and a knowing
twinkle in their eye.

the check's in the mail. salvation by postal carrier. poverty always
strikes when you need aspirin. it promises to be a long cold winter,
and elegant words are no substitute for long-awaited house guests
nuzzling against you in bed.

i've put my bathroom on trial for disorderly conduct. it stinks, and
the cats won't even call the litter box by its first name anymore. "mr.
poo," they say. it spits sticky pellets at them, infusing the closet
with the stench of ammonia. my lawyer says i won't stand up in court.

anyway, thank you all for being you, and not me, i'm already crazy
enough and couldn't bear to feed another dirty mouth. smile when you
think of me naked, if you can. 

 

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