RIP Laika

[Written Round Robin style in March 2018. Two coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Stardate 25, 25. The strangest thing happened to me today. I woke up to find most of my space crops destroyed by tiny space bugs. I've tried my best to get rid of them, but they have proved more resilient than I'd ever imagined. I have tried drowning, burning, and squishing - essentially, I've run out of food.

Out of options, I tried to eat some of the bugs, but now I find myself vomiting uncontrollably. After I finished eating the vomit, I was oddly satiated. Perhaps this could keep me alive?

Next issue: where will I go to the bathroom? I didn't bring a fire hydrant. I've been holding it for nearly two lightyears now. Two lightyears... that means, I'm, like, 220 years old now. I'm going to need quite a few candles on my next cake - bug cake, I suppose.

Click to Enable Editing

My edit instinct has been acting up. I keep searching for the right word instead of just writing. So, here we are.

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[barwatch]

Grunkle. Shift. Barang. Flong. I trank forthright. Glowt. Triskt. Fromt. Greenerty. Frembulance. Flong?

Shamble shift toward touch femme face

Smile

Flats. Grazers spotted crossways out.

Buzzers clink pour plaster

Watchem

Lovem

Hazza day tomorrow

Frunk.

Quick Poems

fusilier fuses burn to the ground
a forest of fire rips through the town
what once stood now lain flat
razed and ruined and black

&

[yesssss]
slithering snake slips from my lips
anticipation.
glory.
ego.

&

one thousand
ten hundred
one zero zero zero
mille

&

twisty taffy, bubblegum pink
sunshine and a breeze
my heart's the beach when I think
about the one I squeeze

Insignificant II

I am a mote.
A speck.
An organelle.

I am a rounding error.

I am forgettable, immediately and evolutionarily.

This is my struggle. This is the struggle of sentience. This is the Absurd.

And I have been quite absurd lately.

Screaming and crying and gurgling beyond breath for attention as a baby for its mother.

But mother is vast and uncaring.

Yet here I am.
Screaming.

Forgettable.

Forgotten.

'struction Crew

I've returned to the scene of the crime and my plans strictly involve further bad behavior. This past week has been manic in so many ways. I've accomplished a lot - writing, reading, working, calling, romancing. I've drank even more (and adding to that tonight). I've also cheated on and broken up with someone - both firsts for me - and the knowledge of the depth of her hurt (certainly some proportion of her great heart) has become a parasite on my mind.

I have been a great towering crane this week, alternating between wrecking ball and construction hook and uncertain with which I identify the most. I'll find my center soon though, I'm sure.

Insignificant

I am a mote. A speck. An organelle.

I aspire to be a statistic.

I am forgettable, immediately and evolutionarily.

This is my struggle. This is the struggle of sentience. This is the absurd.

And I have been acting quite absurd lately.

Chaos

I am chaos. I am confusion. I am that wriggling doubt that gnaws at the edges of your mind when your head rests on the pillow.

Where could you be? Where would you be? Where will you be?

Your life could be better!

A better lover could be yours!

A better job (indeed, wealth freeing you from work) will be your next!

A better body is just days away!

Why haven't you made the switch?

oh?

YOU DID!?

Fat

I have become fat.

I have always been fat in body, but now I have become fat in outlook.

I found someone who loves me. I rejected them.

I ate my dinner and wanted something different.

I faintly remember something I wrote six years ago about flailing for love, flailing for meaning, flailing for self. I faintly remember being starved in spirit. I faintly remember that not all the food on the table is meant for me.

I must drill back down to my core, through these layers of fat, to find truth.

I must drill back down to my core to find self.

I must drill to remember.

Heartbreak Hotel

[Five poems for a story I'm writing, but also because we've all been there. Antedated to Valentine's day.]

Your eyes stop my heart
Your eyes warm my soul
Your picture alone causes my stomach to knot
I want your attention
I want your affection
I want you to text me back

</3

It hurts me to think of you
fishhooks in my heart
I want to spend some time with you
I can't bear to be apart
I know you love another
fishhooks in my heart
but maybe you'll still talk to me?
I can't bear to be apart

Encounter on Bread Street

"Hey Cracker - you're in the wrong neighborhood!" ["yeah!"]

"Oh, shit - sorry! I don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to get to my friend's house."

"You don't have any friends here." ["yeah!"]

"I don't want any trouble - I--"

"Well, you found some!" ["yeah!"]

"Oh, jeez."