janopal

[janopal]

When nights look like feelings #afterthestorm #swoon #smalltownusa

[janopal]

Found an old journal..#surreal

[janopal]

She doesn't want to write about the great isolation again.

15 years of crooked trees,

distant whirlpools

[janopal]

New year record time! #Crosbystillsnashyoung #4waystreet #asianpearyum

[janopal]

Im looking for me. Two stories up in the city and the clouds swiftly change behind a peeking fallen city. I can sew myself into a suit of light. She wont have to call and remember the jail, where’d she park the car, and that the security guard already hates me. She called to tell me that she made another mistake with another man, but what only mattered was our two voices on the phone together. His voice wasn’t there and the harmony got unknowingly lost. Someone stared at me from above the garage…an offering of fried eggs but i chose walks on familiar streets that i can’t even see anymore. Fear can creep into stark bedrooms and you need to pick it up and hurl it out the window. Swirls of firey rage and prayers answered. A pair of mitts. Feet rubbing together at the edge of sleep. I shouted at you from the window, body along sidewalk -to see the scene from above me would be like your hands becoming my own, an encompassing of mountains, but no knowledge of the cold. Panes of smiling window glass and i keep finding gnats in my fresh paint. Dip in, dip out, the airplanes hurt less today but i wouldn’t know it because of all of the extraterrestrial noise and heartache. mattress coils and skin touching skin. You said that good was in the future but lightning surrounded me and i remember too many trips to the hospital. Leave the shoes outside the hotel door, dont let the moss grow. we discover new staircases and your smile flashes razor sharp into my retina as your head turns in the metallic landscape. Cartiledge of a growing jawline and constant rain through my teeth.

[janopal]

#gettingalotdone #hehe #wordsarepuzzles #erase #repeat

[janopal]

I have a lot of feelings #streetartutopia

[janopal]

:Mood #Greasycrazy #vincentgallo

[janopal]

"I'm growing like the quickening hues" #giveustheground

[janopal]

Wishbone

You saved my life he says   I owe you everything.

You don’t, I say, you don’t owe me squat, let’s just get going, let’s just get gone, but he’s

           relentless,

keeps saying  I owe you, says  Your shoes are filling with your own damn blood,

you must want something, just tell me, and it’s yours.

          But I can’t look at him, can hardly speak,

I took the bullet for all the wrong reasons, I’d just as soon kill you myself, I say.

You keep saying  I owe you, I owe… but you say the same thing every time.

          Let’s not talk about it, let’s just not talk.

Not because I don’t believe it, not because I want it any different, but I’m always saving

and you’re always owing and I’m tired of asking to settle the debt.

          Don’t bother.

You never mean it anyway, not really, and it only makes me that much more ashamed.

There’s only one thing I want, don’t make me say it, just get me bandages, I’m bleeding,

          I’m not just making conversation.

There’s smashed glass glittering everywhere like stars. It’s a Western, Henry,

it’s a downright shoot-em-up. We’ve made a graveyard out of the bone white afternoon.

          It’s another wrong-man-dies scenario

and we keep doing it, Henry, keep saying  until we get it right… 

but we always win and we never quit, see, we’ve won again, here we are at the place

          where I get to beg for it

where I get to say  Please, for just one night, will you lay down next to me, we can leave our

clothes on, we can stay all buttoned up?

          or will I say

Roll over and let me fuck you till you puke, Henry, you owe me this much, you can indulge me

this at least, can’t you?  but we both know how it goes. I say  I want you inside me

           and you hold my head underwater, I say   I want you inside me

and you split me open with a knife. I’m battling monsters, half-monkey, half-tarantula,

I’m pulling you out of the burning buildings and you say  I’ll give you anything.

          But you never come through.

Give me bullet power. Give me power over angels. Even when you’re standing up

you look like you’re lying down, but will you let me kiss your neck, baby? Do I have to

          tie your arms down?

Do I have to stick my tongue in your mouth like the hand of a thief, like a burglary

like it’s just another petty theft? It makes me tired, Henry. Do you see what I mean?

          Do you see what I’m getting at?

You swallowing matches and suddenly I’m yelling  Strike me. Strike anywhere.

 I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you’ve taken something out of me, and I have to search

          my body for the scars, thinking

Did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in?   I know you want me to say it, Henry,

it’s in the script, you want me to say  Lie down on the bed, you’re all I ever wanted

          and worth dying for too

but I think I’d rather keep the bullet this time. It’s mine, you can’t have it, see,

I’m not giving it up. This way you still owe me, and that’s

          as good as anything.

You can’t get out of this one, Henry, you can’t get it out of me, and with this bullet

lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because

           it’s all I have,

because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your

slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this

          bullet inside me

‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth. Don’t you see, it’s like

I’ve swallowed your house keys, and it feels so natural, like the bullet was already there,

          like it’s been waiting inside me the whole time.

Do you want it? Do you want anything I have? Will you throw me to the ground

like you mean it, reach inside and wrestle it out with your bare hands?

          If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.

Do you know how it ends? Do you feel lucky? Do you want to go home now?

There’s a bottle of whiskey in the trunk of the Chevy and a dead man at our feet

          staring up at us like we’re something interesting.

This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard,

and make a wish.

Richard Siken

[janopal]

"that was then" #oldnews

[janopal]

"The clocks of childhood tick-tocked like an itching bomb I didn't know was in me - the frothy swirl of family room pain and glass shadows, the pinprick of innocent palpable sensitivity - my young skin already imprinted with codes for which I had no answer."