coastal highway

We are ahead even before sunrise.
trying to exist, here and now.

in the big city living means a constant
drone of sound, from dawn till dusk.

Each pedal warrants a longing for
home. as in the Coastal Highway.
as in watching waves crash in only
a right turn of the head.

I had dreamt of wasps chasing me.
in this city. When i woke, i breathed
in ocean salty air. My heart left by the
coast. i am a ghost hovering,
by the sidelines.


“I lost my temper at myself” said
the character from Anderson when
she punched herself in the mirror

What garners that kind of courage
because I am losing my temper at
myself and in sleep I am duty
bound not to dream

Lest I am running
and my teeth are falling out
— fists unfurled to show five
and blood spit in the sink

The heat sways with the
electronic drone of a semi-broken
lamp and I am watching shadows

My eyes are closing though
I could’ve put myself down earlier
but I never do

libras and scorpios are incompatible

I sat on the gray suede couch, fiddling with an iPod – was it hers or mine? She was standing over the mess of a counter. A pot of boiling water, pasta in hand ready to drop. Eggs, bacon, cream.

There was a strand of hair in my bowl.
We ate and left the plates strewn on the kitchen table. I went back to the couch. The song that came up was Expatriate – The Spaces Between. I told her to listen. “It’s a great song.” So then I gave her one-half of  the earphones. She leaned closer. We kissed.

Or did this happen before we ate? I think it was when the pasta was boiling. 

I had my hands pressed against her neck. She’s got really short hair, blonde. The song was still playing in both our ears. I wondered: how the fuck did I end up with you. You’re a Libra. It’s not written in the fucking stars. Our signs aren’t compatible. When are we going to end? I messed up your hair. You’ve got the softest sighs. 

I dreamt of running away from someone/something last night, in three different scenarios.

I quote a friend:

“maybe the things you’re running from are the anthropomorphisations of your problems”

This is probably true.

Mystery guy: part 2

If I could, I would
Tell you
Broad horizons;
Chain link fences and
solid walls
separate —

The mind meditates
leaves a deep echo;
Come crash down on me
Lingering scents, hushed whispers
Dwell within —

You died when
I woke
Hush now,
go back to sleep.
You left me on the other side.

Sitting, staring –
Sounds wavering, voices distant;
People passing.

It stands still.

It starts again.
Beckoning, beckoning –
She looks up.
He looks down.

Someone wise once said,
“Life is a probability dysfunction.”