Smarts.

"Before he was 25, Nikola Tesla had already invented the induction motor...
I always thought that I would have found a cure for schizophrenia by 25."

I remember signing and dancing and joking. I remember days when I could leave my house. I remember being comfortable enough to make physical contact with someone. I remember feeling okay to hug someone, to hold a hand, to give a little smooch.
I remember being called. I remember my house only being the place where I slept. I remember standing in front of people with steady hands.
I remember being able to make friends with anyone.

Now i'm just nervous, I have panic attacks when I see words like "hang out". My personal space has more control over me then any drug I've taken. I stay mostly to my house. I have a little "nook" in my bedroom, filled with books. I watch five, maybe six episodes of crimanal minds a day. I watched the first season of wilfred in one sitting. The Star Wars saga is watched bi-weekly. I go days without phone calls or text messages. When someone asks me "Hey Gene, want to do something?" I spit out the first thing that comes to my head: oh, y'know.
Confused, they'll say "no, i don't." realizing what I've said I retort something like: oh, I'm not feeling well tonight, but thank you for the offer.
I ignore phone calls; it's easy for people to tell that you're lying when they can hear your voice.

Hearts.

 



"Barney, you really do wear your heart on your sleeve. Now put it away, it's disgusting to look at."

Benediction.

ˌbeniˈdik sh ən|

nounthe utterance or bestowing of a blessing, esp. at the end of a religious service.• ( Benediction) a service in which the congregation is blessed with the Blessed Sacrament, held mainly in the Roman Catholic Church.• devout or formal invocation of blessedness : her arms outstretched in benediction.• the state of being blessed : he eventually wins benediction.ORIGIN late Middle English : via Old French from Latinbenedictio(n-), from benedicere ‘wish

 

 

It felt like a benediction. I never thought we'd be like this--friends.
It seems like we were too cute to end, we were like that annoying jr. high couple that was always touching and tickling and kissing and hugging and all the shit I hated to do in public. But, you were too pretty.
I know that it's my fault, I didn't mean anything that I said, I was just tired I guess.
When you said "goodnight, drive safe.", I don't know, it was like you really meant it, like you had forgiven me, like what was done was done and everything was gonna be alright. It was like you were just glad to be with me, and you were looking forward to seeing me again. It was like we were gonna become like the love you see in the movies, not the lifetime movies, more like the weinstein company movies. quiet and silent, like being with each other is enough, like the silence is holding our affection.
I don't know, maybe I sound strange.

The Troopers.

I am just another clone, covered in white armor.
I was made to be a soldier, I was made to be obedient.
My ancestors turned on their jedi masters, in the middle of battle.

What can I do? for decades, the bastards on Kashyk have breed us to do whatever we are told.
do you know how that feels?
In the BSDS (Boy Scouts of the Death Star) My troop leader told me that I had to take off my armor,
and dress up like princess leia, when she was chained to jaba the hut, he then asked me to choke him.

I did it,
and i'm not proud. But, I had no control, i was made to be this way,
I was made to tell people to "Move along." and walk away from a door because it was already locked;
I was taught that if a door is locked, who/whatever I'm looking for, is not behind it.
I was made to shoot my blaster at giant spaceships, but I never learned how to hit them.

I am just another clone, covered in white armor.
Constantly teased.
But for all the things I am teased about, I must accept,
For these, and much more is who I am.
I am the force to a jedi.
I am the magical existence of oxygen in space everytime something in star wars explodes.
I am the fighter in the tai (no I'm not talking about space ships (Inapproite? who gives a shit))
I am the designer who decided that a hole as big as a womp rat looked good.
I am the architect that told the designer that if there is going to be a hole, it better have a purpose.
I am the drunk trooper that told the architect that "it would be cool if uhhh you like umm shot a laser inta uh a hole on the death star and like the whole fuckin' system would just like ya know, like fuckin'  blow  the fuck up, yeah man, that would be the fuckin' shit"
I am lukes robotic hands.
I am the light, to a lightsaber.
I am a storm trooper, and I am goddamn proud of my job.

listen up.

You've been given a direct order to rock the fuck out.
(This goes out to my homie Anis Mojgani)

Rock out like you've got the power of invisibility, and a room full of naked 10's.
Rock out like all you're the fastest reader on the earth.
Rock out like you just walked into your kitchen to find an unlimited amount of milk, and fruity pebbles.
Rock out like you just kicked Flash Gordons ass. Like Flash Gordon is bowing to you.
Rock out like you are on a victoria secret cruise and every other male passenger is dead.
Rock out like your mother is alive and it was your father that the devil took.
Rock out like you just out fucked nasa (that ones for my home boy Mitch Hedberg)
Rock out like you're a three time felon who just won a tony award (thats for Lemon)
Rock out like you can breathe under water, and every poem you ever blew is coming back together.
Rock out like you know everything there is to know about Star Wars, Like Lucas just announced he would be making three more Star Wars.
Rock out like you've just been given a Direct order.

The blood spills out like so much prose.

The grass is matted with blood,
and I'm still in love with you.

I will always be in love with you,
no matter how much of your blood stains the concrete,
or the carpet,
or tile,
or veneer,
or bed.

I will always be in love with you,
even though you've been gone for quite some time,
even though you did leave me here, and
never understood why I wrote those poems.

I will always be in love with you,
and you will always be on my mind,
whether in the orchard,
or the garden,
or tending to the animals, or walking the dogs.

You will always be on my mind,
no matter what book I'm reading
or poem I'm writing
or what notebook I'm burning
or what poorly lit photo I'm stubbing out my cigarette on.

I will always love you,
and you will always be on my mind,
even when the concrete,
the carpet
the tile,
the veneer,
and the bed are all growing more
and more
red.

The grass is matted with blood,
and I'm still in love with you.