hoodie

 man, I keep leaving the screendoor open

and all of the fly guys keep coming in

and I yell and swish them around but they don't care

fly guys don't care

don't fucking care

FGDC

oh man, I just put on a hoodie

and it's like 80 degrees here on the patio of gayulz club

and I'm wearing a fucking sweatshirt, like who AM I?

I told Nickey her blog is fucking so good

in all caps

and she told me I was drunk

and the cool thing is that I got home from work

and there are watermelon beers in the fridge that I've nothing to do with

and I'm drinking them, but am not drunk

but I'm tryin

ok so it was Nickey

she literally just told me 

that I need to try

try

try 

try.

all I do is try

  

  Last summer around Nickey's birthday I wrote a poem in the blue book she made me for my birthday

  we were sitting by a pool

  I was drinking watermelon beer

  and I was melancholy

  because I felt very like I was in love with someone

  who I knew wouldn't ever be there back with me

  So I wrote down something like

   

    Don't cry

      Let her die

     if the ship has sailed

         say

           Bye Bye

and I didn't realize it rhymed, which instantly makes it a poem,?

& it was later abrevved, tried to become my motto

try, die, bye bye

which is not something I ever had to commit to memory

bc my memory has long forever made me a committer to it

plug

I've got a meal in me now, it feels pretty weird

it also doesn't feel like april should end today but it will

because I think it's my favorite month. 

it's the early early mornings, and the sick smell of blossoms, 

and the promise of may

which is historically my favorite times

& I guess still should be. I am waking up, now

I can feel the blood back in my legs, the bones replacing the gelatin sog

& the sinews hardening, or maybe it's just the poison leaving my system

and I was supposed to be there, a friend

but I have only been friends with myself

keeping a mirror as a pet

making promises to the past.

but I'm sitting up, now

& looking at my face again, and it isn't as bad as I thought

and my smoke hair

is coiling like silk on the end of april

and my breath is sweeter than the sick blossoms

even with dying flowers

finally

like a motto from a tea bag I used to carry around with me to

always do the most beautiful thing.

so I'll try before I die & long before the great byebye

vengeless & celebratory is me