always sick
always in pain
they told you not to fret
as you hunched yourself over the oxygen tank.
“that lump on your chest is worth its weight in gold.”
you play with your breasts.
those photos online impressed your friends.
days spill over to weeks on end.
you don’t know how many more of your lies you can spin.
//jf 7.8.2020
Hmm. Another shot of a woman peeing. She pees standing up at a sit-down toilet, pees on the floor, and pees on a dead guy’s face. Sometimes she poops, too: often at the same time as Number 1, lit sultrily by a bonfire where our protagonists are burning the disemboweled corpse of one of their own. Characters stick their fingers in each other’s holes and you are guaranteed a money-shot of their shit-stained fingers after, too. “Oh, well there’s that” I thought to myself as another disturbing image passed my view while I sat on my couch, high and alone at 10 PM on my Friday night.
Continue readingi prowl methodically,
judicious in my seeing
but there has to be days when you just let it go.
where you just be.
and you communicate
in that old imitable way that our youth betrays.
i hope youre okay
and that your hair still hangs,
with eyes that stare through the bangs.
the tears would well up in your face
when we talked about how we loved
betrothed and entwined
through our own slippery grasp of experience combined.
just the slightest bit of skin is like a beacon,
beckoning for reason.
so when the unreasonable becomes your cure,
please dont lose my number.
//jf 6.13.2020
isolation with my lover is a dogfight of disposition.
who can get to the tv first?
i imagine a future with no internet
and being lost on the couch in her world.
why dont we do something,
anything else?
im too tired for anything else, she cries,
making sure the neighbors hear who is in charge.
i imagine a future with no electricity
and she is lost in the covers of her own despondent world.
why dont we do something,
anything else?
im too depressed for anything else, she moans
making sure to spread her piteousness
on the burnt, black toast of my indifference.
i imagine a future where she is gone
and the lights inside are permanently dimmed
and i am sitting outside by myself in the quiet of natures dawn.
i am reading.
soon ill be reeling.
i would rather have someone than no one.
//jf 6.10.2020
the enormity of life confronts us all. i stand before a wall that separates me from my better half. this wall stretches the imagination, and i am alone. like a scrapbook it is covered in photos of people i knew; who i had lost; who had lost me. but as my bare toes sink in to the warm sand, i am not afraid. i am full of love. with a gentle push, this wall comes tumbling down. and the blue sky above me no longer splits across its middle but extends into the horizon, where a still blue ocean sits below and the sound of waves crashing rests miles away. i am in my happy place: a cove, a short swim around an inlet on oahu. any time i would visit, there wouldn’t be another living soul: like i was the first. in truth it was inconvenient enough for the kids and the families, but we were not the first. no one can be the first: not anymore. i sit in reverence to those who came before me, whose drawings are carved along the cavern walls. drawings that tell a story: one with layers, a new one uncovered with every visit.
//jf 6.6.2020
theory of a daskeman 