let it spiral
after Charles Bukowski
either today or tomorrow,
let it spiral
when I was in my teens
I always felt like adults were
dumb and didn’t know how to have fun.
I had the confidence of a politician, an adrenaline
addiction, a queer
disposition.
I was soft as a paper cup, I
soaked in the soft summer
sun.
I trusted the endless possibilities of love and
especially my friends.
I was living a dream in
yellow lit streets, I smoked
cigarettes, observed strangers,
walked as if i owned the night,
a God.
I wanted everything,
was continually being
pulled, sucked, in and
out of the spiral, in and out
of my mind.
women were something
of a mystery to me,
my little sister was my best friend.
I changed my hair and
the way i dressed, I loved polaroids,
saturn, mint,
classics, pencils,
white papers,
anatomy, tears,
lights, any house other than mine,
the food my best friend’s mom made for me
when i slept over once, paris,
cheese, the familiar smell of smoke, my room and
the color
brown.
indifference angered me,
getting old sickened me,
my role models turned out to be
assholes
and friendship was something sacred.
enthusiasm and excitement to me
were signs of
persisting youth,
tenants of the smart
and
curious
minds.
but as I went on to
grow up and entered my 20s,
my “party” years,
meeting new people
every other day
-it gradually
began to occur to
me
that nothing was the same anymore
i was not the same anymore
i had lost curiosity
and was always
ruminating over petty
inconveniences,
the men I fought in
alleys had faces like mine.
everybody was onto me,
inching, hungry for
a taste of my flesh,
the past was the
weapon and the
ammunition was
nostalgia,
guilt was the
dictator.