Dear (____)

Dear Crystal Light,

I do not dislike your appletini flavor.  It's kind of good.  You could have gone with red instead of neon Ghost Busters green or toxic waste Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtules toxic ooze green, but I'm sure the committee had something on their mind when it got green lit, no pun intended.  I would submit that some of us cannot afford apple juice.  It's expensive, kinda like orange juice.  Or any juice, for that matter.

Could you consider, perhaps, producing an apple flavored zero calorie product, as a black guy trying to die of a few things besides diabetes and looking for a low cost alternative to apple juice that is not bright green, it would be swell to be able to enjoy the apple taste without the cost, because, let's face it, I'm not asking you to try to produce some sort of grape product that tastes like cough syrup, no?  If you can make an appletini that only tastes good when vodka is mixed into it, can you not make an appletini that also tastes legitimately like apples with no vodka mixed into it?  It's not a party all of the time.  And appletini mixes like shit when anything else is involved besides potatoes.  Please get on that horse.

Thanks and yours truly,

former sugar fiend.

That Instant

you know you could choke a cat until he dies, but you're jamming up toward the edge where it'll be awkward between you two for the next week if you don't let go and you'll never be able to explain what you were trying to do to his brother cuz he's a cat too and does not speak English.

Dear (_____)

Dear new year resolutions,

We've had it out three years running.  This year we're going small. Compose one song.  And for fucks sake, update your poetry design.  We're both getting tired of it and there's beauty everywhere.  You cannot go three feet without tripping over it so come up with a summer theme and learn to play something and get an actual mic.  Christ.  You're not setting the bar low, be reasonable.  And quit smoking if you get a chance.  It's not on the books, but we know it is so stop short changing me, prick.

That Instant

you realize you've been chasing that sunavbitch down that went out of turn on the four way stop intersection and you're nine miles down the highway out of your way and hoping they'll pull over and get out because you're hatchet is tucked under your driver seat and you're betting they've got a tire iron at best.

That Instant

You rip into belly laughs watching a pug hang out the passenger window of a red coupe on the main drag of your town and the driver smoking a black and mild is enjoying its happiness just a much and he looks back with a smirk long enough to let you know it was okay to be in that moment with him.

That instant

you realize your deoderant is wearing off and you don't have time to shower, but...

..and then you kick yourself in the pants because it's not new information, but...

i'm coming in for a crash landing, gear up, and respect their space.

Overkill

Having a difficult time taking Is and Yous and Mes out of my poetry.  I wish I had a different face, but apparently I am no longer allowed to hack away at it.  I want to get back to wonder.  I want to get back to visions of enormous dinosaurs, but the real world continues to push back and it's not fair and I can't figure out a way to circumvent the charges.

I will.  Stand up act 9 is coming.  Long dark tunnel.  I conquered my fear of absolute darkness a while back.  Doesn't mean that it's comfortable though.  I want to pick up house and walk away from it all in a bad way.  Maybe a good way.  Tough to think about.  Do you just throw your hard drives in a ruck sack?  I don't know!  I'm asking you!  Who helps you plan that sort of thing out?  I have no clue.

Do ya have to bring an umbrella or something or do you count on finding one along the route?  Could probably thieve one.  Do you really want to do that?  That's not who you are.  You can take whatever you really want, but don't.  Every single time you take you are taking something from someone else and that's no good.  Let someone hold your leash.  They're not holding you back.  They're just checking you.  You have to allow yourself to be checked at the hip.  Take it and bounce off or try to run them over, but whatever you do correct your path.  Not correct, but make adjustments because you have to and understand that it is alright to make adjustments.

Adjusting the dials is okay.  Not everyone likes to hear music at 11, hell you don't either.  Not everyone wants or needs a kiss or needs your face two inches from their own.  Not everyone can be famous and not everyone will remember events the same ways you do.  You're losing your memory and maybe that plays into part of why you are losing connection fidelity with your dream states.  Be okay with working on it.  There's no breaker  to fire off in between where you're going and where you can never go back to and that's perfectly fine.

Do you bring a knife or no?  Do you need to?  Would you need to?  I don't know!  You can take what you want, but you don't have to.  Are you expecting battle?  It's a funky kind of war we fight and I've been seeing some strange things I don't know how to handle off of the top of my head.  I need time.  No picking up sticks.  No running away.  No abuse.  Abuse is shorthand for sadists.  What's short hand for saints?  I want to plow into a wall and obliterate my body in a mist of red and bone.  I want humor.  Get the fuck away from me!  I swear to god I will taste your eye fluid before the night is out, you mother fucker piece of shit, do you not know there is no such thing as a fair fight?

Rules are in place to keep me out of you.  Period.  Maybe it's all a matter of timing?  That may be what I'm getting wrong.

Wanderlust eats away at me and I nibble back.  I almost lit a cat on fire again.  I'm doing good though.  Being on good behavior and going to work almost every time I am supposed to go.  I want to keep it up through the end of the year.  I am not expecting much from Santa.  I still ask him for a 1911 against my better judgement.  No resolutions forthcoming and none will be given.  I think I'll treat myself to a box of ammunition this year.  One step at a time.  Baby steps.  We'll travel, but I'm not pulling up sticks just yet.  I'm trying to monitor my speech.  I've been speaking much too fast and running words together and feeling like I need to apologize inside my head every time someone says "what did you say?"  I said exactly what the hell I said.  It's hyper frustrating.  It's like a stutter, but backwards and difficult to correct and heart stabbing when I notice it flowing out of my damned mouth.  Not fair!

Howling in my head wont stop.  I haven't snorted anything serious in a long time and my sinuses feel like they are about to shatter.  "...turning the music up so ya don't hear the engine falling apart..."  by hook or by crook we are going to fix this thing so it runs smooth.  Chatty Cathy.  Slow the fuck down and take a moment.  The world's not crazy.  It is just you.  Everything does not smell like burning metal.  It is just you.  Space invaders.




///Kelis - "I Don't Think So"     just dont think you're at my speed