Keine Verjährungen, die Ebbe setzt ein, Ich schwimme—andauernd, andauernd, andauernd. Wieder auftauchend Erinnerungen, nie Wieder. Ich werde das nicht ertragen. Ich bin frei fließend, mein herz ist ungeschützt. Ich fühle das Heil, ins dieser Platz. Nehmen auf einer Teil und bleiben. “Ich bleib hier.” Dieser Platz angehören. Ich wohne hier am einer Laune. Zufrieden und niemals--keine Rückgabe. Geben meiner Herzschlag, zurück an den Hauptteil, zum mich bitte.

Home.
The door closes on
A headphoned man. He looks up
Through thick-framed glasses,
Evaporates into the
Luminous shadows. I stare

Out of fogged windows.
Familliar City Skyline,
Wheels churning, churning
Underfoot. Humidity
Grips the yellow raincoat man,

Sweat trickling down the
Brim of his nose. He scratches
Answers to a crossword.
The brakes lurch gently, feeling,
Feverish.
Tuned into Iron and Wine.

Umbrellas litter
The aisle, condensed muggy
Air perspires from
The windows. Awkward glances
For now—just for now. There is

No coming home tonight.
The impassioned horizon
Focuses within
My opaque retinas, halos
Crown streetlights, sirens drowned out

By Camillo. It’s
Lukewarm, holding the mast for
Support, my stream of
Consciousness gently failing.
Leather and coffee sitting

Parallel to me,
Plugged into a nameless album.
Briefcased lawyer to
His left. Their sporadic glance
Never meets. Lurch again. Stop.

The floodgates open,
Light pours in, the bell tolls, it
Is just as soon gone.
Eternal darkness passing
By the windows. Rails grinding

On the abused steel.
Intercom, “doors open on
The left.” Stop, walk. Stop.
Wait.
A Soulpatch-ed man stands on the
Yellow median and stares

Down the tunnel line.
Lake Michigan. I jump in.
The wind is blowing,
Steady, faster. A Tin box arrives,
Stampede emerges from its
Ribcage.

Cross the border. The
Boston Metro boards, followed
By The Boston Globe.
And, the New Yorker, and the
Atlantic Monthly. I try

Steadying myself.
I smell a dull, faded scent.
Cigarette burns, and
The end of life as we know it.

Reticence

Sidelong glances through windowpanes. The glare of austere fluorescents
Against the glass. Blinding the enclosed, while you stand overlooking
An interrogation room. Concealed, converging but never
Intersecting with reality. You linger there, do you dare
To challenge the stands? Do you dare to approach the microphone, to
Bridge the gap, the gorge that isolates your sinuous web of thoughts?

Do you dare to speak your mind?
Or, Do you dare speak at all?

Silence

These creatures emerge from the woodwork when I’m at ease.
Within these cubicle walls, the same shift running nine to five.
The same endless tick of the second hand,
Circling at a steady, unyielding pace. Never, Ending.
Never, Ending.

I’m running counterclockwise, seeking the root of amnesia;
Blindly searching for that watch crown, the dial to take me back
To that moment; I want to live it.
Make sense out of this mass of jumbled words,
Make meaning out of something. Decompose these fences,
Shut down this confining life! The bars,
They hold me prisoner within my own language.

This pattern is repeating again and again and- you knew this was coming. There is masochism in old love songs. How could you veil this truth? Your truth, the truth you denied over and over to quell the ache. Your eyes are as blind, as vacant as they’ve always been; dark surfaces, refracting and reflecting light. You knew. Smiled and painted a rose colored canvas in your head until crisp, cold air flooded the passageways of the heart. The sanguine oranges, the rose colored strokes were white-washed away; a blanched canvas with its dying rogue hues, silently gilding off the contours of the frame. Maybe the brisk air was all it took to see the bleeding canvas before you. Wake up, smell the coffee again. It’s strong, pungent—maybe a little too acrid. Black coffee and un-filtered cigarettes. Truth. You’re exhaustible; simply a commodity to soothe the emptiness. It’s not you, just what you represent. What you can offer.

Never was you.

Go out on a limb.

I met a German speaking woman today in the bohemian coffeehouse, and we had an entire conversation in German, give or take a few phrases. Ironically enough, she was from Hamburg! My German was slanderously shoddy because of its impromptu nature, and I didn’t originally address her in the formal ‘Sie’ tense (which is technically not polite when meeting an adult, but I am so used to using Du!) Despite plenty of grammatical error on my part, finally speaking with a native after six months, was invigorating! She was very accomidating and overlooked the mistake in tense. Scraping together roughly four years of classroom German and being able to form coherent sentences; I can’t explain it! It was the highlight of my day=) Also on an odd note, apparently many German-speaking people go there; absolutely fantastic! Great coffee, or tea, or CHAI TEA, and stimulating conversation. Another amazing day, to add to an already amazing week=) Picking up FOUR rolls of film tomorrow, finishing up the Imprint; Thundercats are go!
Ich vermisse es, soviel… Ich vermisse mein Heim fort von Heim, Hamburg! Ich duerfte eine Rückkehr machen=)

“Yeah hey,there’s some cookies and milk over there in the corner.”-Nate

Amazing how such a small, fragment of generocity can change the course of an entire day. Oh, and maybe the world isn't chock-full of narcissists after all. It’s an enlightening fact. Though it may not be as glamorous, it may be full of rocks, and it may be rather uneven, this road seems best. Traverse wisely. In all honesty, Today was a fantastic day. Cheers.