Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Is This It

so i'm stuck at home because this guy jumped off a building and his blood that ran with HIV and the hepatitis alphabet got on my face and in my mouth. The cocktail isn't as bad as it used to be, people keep telling me. I've had no side effects really, so basically I just don't have to go to work until after the 30th when I go back to the Department doctor.

The whole story is quite odd.

He was 65 - jumped from the 4th floor of a nursing home.

I could describe it further, but I'll save that for not the Internet. Besides, I think the basics say a lot on their own. Since I know no more, all that's left is in the imagination. How did he break the window? What did it look like? Were other people in the room? What happened in the 15 minutes before? Why? Why did he decide to jump? How many friends and family did he leave behind? Did they know this was a possibility?

These are things I'll never know, and with time what I have imagined will become increasingly less clear. Like any death, most of its details become lost and only the fact itself remains. And isn't this for the best? The details are part of dying, but are so unromantic in reality. They are raw and off-putting and sometimes shocking. This is for the best.

This isn't even what I intended to write about, but it's what happened.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

walking is still honest

I want you to know my creative mind
I want to speak to you in the tongues that reach me
I would love for you to understand, but have no romantic expectations
I want you to see beauty, hear it
the way I do
but not in my way
i want you to experience beauty
in your way
i just want you to feel that

is it fog or is it rain or mist
how could the bronx be so still
i am the only movement
walking up the middle of Decatur
cone shaped meta-prisms below street lamps
mark the length of the street
there is no one
from where it begins to where it ends
i'm just going to by ice cream
but now i want to see where it ends

and so i walk

Sunday, October 22, 2017

Letters to the Universe

They had nothing for me to do at work last night, so I laid on the futon in the girl's locker room and fell asleep. Once asleep, I began to dream.

I dreamt it was you and me and old friends and new lovers
it was you and me:
old friends, no longer lovers.
and it was so nice
it was oh so nice.
to see that elusive smile again
to be together in front of everyone, feel not devious,
not subversive
just happy.
everyone happy.
what a dream that would be.

Friday, September 29, 2017

I Want to Rock Your Gypsy Soul

I sit here alone in my apartment at 4:53 in the morning finishing off a bag of salt and vinegar chips and drinking coke out of a mug because I can. Because no one is watching and the only people who can think anything of it are the ones who will read this and by then it will be too late and there will be nothing they can say to change my behavior or make me feel guilty for it.

I am 31 years old. I haven't perfected living, and know I never will. I think sometimes that I am immature for my age...that I am somehow stunted and incorrect. That I should have a husband and children by now - I should wear heels to work and be a mother. Be a caretaker, a teacher, a comfort, and a disciplinarian. I shouldn't worry about acting immature because i shouldn't be doing it. I shouldn't be eating like a slob at 5am at all. If I wasn't doing it I wouldn't have to worry about someone telling me don't do it
don't do it
stop doing it
grow up
you're too old for this
I don't know if there is any efficacy to either way of thinking or if both sides have their merits. All it dictates really is who you get along with, who you can relate to. Are you a disciplined, respected adult? Are you a 5am unhealthy slob who just wants to be left alone? And all the combinations and permutations of traits and tics we have. And we have so much.
No matter how little our pockets hold our minds are full.
Sometimes it's thunder
sometimes it's overcast
But sometimes it's summer's heat lightning coming from all corners of the dark night sky to interweave and connect, culminating in a burst of beauty that cannot be ignored.

I wonder what I'm doing here; I wonder what I'm doing on earth, in life, in the Bronx, at my job, in school - I wonder what I'm doing eating junk food at 5:16am on a Friday morning. I wonder if I do any of these things for a purpose, and if so how many? How many serve a long term goal? How many serve only as an escape from the rest?

I wonder for what I am searching.
I wonder if I am searching at all.
Then I decide: I am sure I am searching for something, and not because I have an idea of what it is, but because I have an eternal restlessness within me that will not be quelled.

Wednesday, May 3, 2017


the first time
i said 21 and defiant
i'm not happy, i'm done
i'm crazy and can do whatever i want and you'll still want me
you'll still take me back you love me and i know it
i was impatient
i wanted to have everything i wanted when i wanted it
i expected it
and not from life experience...just from you.
and when i came back and said
i'm sorry i love you i made a mistake
you said i'm sorry i can't, i won't.
and if you had, would you have cheated on me anyway?

when people ask about my relationships i tend to brush that one off. 'oh it was just silly. a friend from high school, it only lasted 5 months and we were never in the same city.' but it wasn't silly. i always had my 'cool girl attitude' but i was in it. i was so in it i didn't even know. i acted tough and untouchable, but it took me a year to recover even a little. over something so silly, right?

and i can't help but wonder if i'm making the same thing now.

Saturday, April 29, 2017

at once i was beautiful and mysterious
i am now a large-print book open

So why? Confidence lost...desperation?
it's ok amanda you've never known you've never thought you were anything

Sunday, March 19, 2017


heartbreak on heartbreak on heartbreak
the others seem so frivolous now
but they are my life
and life is fucking precious
fucking fleeting
must cherish even the silliest of things
ex-boyfriends and old crushes, flames extinguished

it's all ok. it's ok to feel and it's ok to let go. it's ok to care and it's ok to care too much. everything is ok. more than ok, everything is to be thankful for - even when it hurts. it's ok to feel. feeling is human and it's ok it's ok we all do it stop pretending we don't have to be unfeeling robots, we don't have to be tough. you don't have to be tough amanda you don't have to be tough and stop apologizing for being soft. those moments of softness are beautiful meaningful moments (and god i don't care that i sound like someone i'd tell to shut the fuck up) to be celebrated. i am a human that cares for other humans and i know i'm never going to be number 1 on my list of priorities. that's me and that's it. anyone who has ever called me selfish and caused me to question that part of myself: i forgive you for you couldn't have meant it. i care for you and i care what you think of me. i care if you love me, i care if you think i'm beautiful, i care if you think i'm kind and smart and generous. i care and i have time for your shit, always have time for this shit. and i do need this. and i will continue to take the abuse because it's worth it to me.

girl, you were always an angel.