12.

11.

So I'm on the roof.
I walk over to the edge.
Look down, to the street below.
Not really seeing.

The others are all over each other.

Packed in.

I'm on the edge.
And I throw my arms out.
Corny.
And suddenly I'm feeling everything.
I think I hear the others giggling.
In the background.
And suddenly I can say it.
The wind drops.
My arms don't.
My back still to them.
I take a shaky breath.
I can feel it filling my lungs.
And I speak.

I don't actually respect many of my friends.
The feeling is mutual
The people I care about don't.
I'm very scared.
My throat catches.
I take a shaky breath.
I can't feel anything.
And I speak.

Mood swings
ADHD
Formication
Addiction
Insomnia
Hemochromatosis
Dysgraphia
Depression
My throat catches.
I take a shaky breath.
And suddenly I'm feeling everything.
The wind on my tired arms.
I drop them.
The silence behind me.
Pushing me forward.
I'm on the edge.
My back still to the others
He gets up.
Struggling.
The crunch of gravel.
He joins me.
He throws up his arms.
My throat catches.
And he drops them.
Drops his head.
We stand there.
The wind picks up.
The others are bored.
The girls go for their drinks.
The guys go for their girls.
He looks at his feet.
Grabs my arm, and lowers himself.
I settle in a few feet from him.
He's on my right.
I'm on his left.
We speak.
Of how nobody should be united in simply imperfection.
As is so often the case.
Of how nobody should be united in simply interest.
In simply secrets.
In simply reason.
We speak.
Of how their shouldn't be reasons and limitations to passion.
To love.
To unity.

We share a silence.
And share a drink.
And I speak.
So, what? Are we like, friends now?

10.

9.

So she's on the bed.
I'm across the hotel room, looking at her in the mirror.
The reflection rolls over, lifts the receiver.
No dial tone.
Place is a dump anyway.
She gets dressed.
Slowly.
Half dressed, with too much skin showing.
Still a reflection, she heads for the door.
Glancing over her shoulder.
Glaces at my reflection.
She speaks.
She's looking for a payphone.
One question later, she's no closer.
Two questions later, she's paying the machine.
Slowly.
I'm leaning on a lamppost near by.
Everything in hyper detail.
I see gum on the receiving end of the receiver.
She doesn't.
Picking it off, a slightly revolted look on her pretty face.
She dials, and I can hear each tone from where I stand.
From here.
She flirts. And whines. And giggles. On the phone.
And purses her lips in my direction.
Air kisses.
I turn away, headed back.
To bed.
To denial.
She will follow.
As we hotel lovers do.
As I do.

It may not be conventional, but neither are we.

8.

7.

I get high off sunlight.
So I'm driving, and I notice little triangles of light on my right arm.
Reflected by the sun.
Searched everywhere I could to see which particular object was causing this particular phenomenon.
But to no avail.
So lazy with the sun.
So chill with the sun.
Sun setting fast, I needed to get inside before it disappeared completely.
Get inside before I lost the little triangles on my skin.
Sun setting fast, I panicked.
Can't lose another high.
Can't gain another low.

I'm fine as long as I keep moving.

And this is true in all aspects of my life.

6.

5.

On that balcony, filled with way to many body's, I was the most relaxed I'd been in years.
The girls feet were pressed up comfortably on my thigh.
First, I'm gonna get recognized. I say
She's not listening.
For my Art. I say
For doing one of those classic things I've never done.
For being one of those classic things.
Imitating. Developing.
Reworked and revamped and any re you care to mention.
I am not enough with these limitations of situation and circumstance.

Turning her head lazily towards mine, she raises an eyebrow, her eyes clear, and speaks.
If you're jumping, I'm going with you.

4.

3.

I hear they've discontinued Polaroid. This upsets me.
It shouldn't.
Never have used that particular film, but always thought I might give it a go.
Never would.
Still, I feel as though a very specific medium of Art is being discontinued, as it is, I suppose.