"We build too many walls and not enough bridges."

Introvert

I’ve worked on faking extroversion. I’ve received and handed out my number. Genuinely attempted to remember a response is appropriate. My hand went through all the right motions, from the simple gesture of a strong handshake and the typical 90 degree angle leading upward to my mouth- timed perfectly so I was not incoherent. My head, beginning to dizzy, even reminded me to unfold my arms. I even recall the limitation of small talk and the absence of disagreement. I presented myself to be likable and so I was. I could not though refrain from biting my tongue, and although my eyes were contacting theirs, I was not interested. At least not for good enough reasons, perhaps only because her words lingered, “you need to meet people and get out and make friends or you’ll never be happy.” As much as even then I wanted to shove that same run on sentence down her throat, I did it again and bit my tongue, pretending that there was justification in the fact that other people will make me appreciate myself more. Of course, it worked for a split second as soon as a seemingly moderately decent male approached eventually leading to “you’re adorable, we should hangout sometime.” My ego hurt less momentarily, until somehow I talked them down in my head. “They don’t have a job, they don’t go to school, and they’ve just admitted to doing too many drugs.” My thoughts caused my ego extreme whiplash as their approval, attention, and compliments lost their credibility. I knew she probably shouldn’t have held so much credibility, since she was suffering from teenage angst for the last 20 years and despite being of legal age to drink managed to get us kicked out. Belligerent, an alcoholic, and openly loose. Somewhere she had stopped, not just pushed paused, but stopped, with no intention of playing the rest. Yet I accepted her criticism or as she would say “advice” because there was a sense of obligation but mostly confusion. I wanted to bring her to care and to grow with me instead of withering. I needed to understand the reasons why she acted so cowardly towards her future yet did not posses the quality of being a coward with her personal interactions. We both lacked what the other had. I knew, however, I could not progress through the future fixated on possessing her extroversion in the true form because I too would have then ceased. 

Eyes find an escape

From the book’s intent: degree

To the brown bottle.

Poem Structures

So they both are about the same topic, but I could not decide whether or not I wanted it to rhyme.  

 

I don’t remember slurring that sentence

or the details on why our clothes took an absence

I do, however, recall

the burning of the alcohol

my laughs sounding in perfect interludes

attempting to allude

to a vague invitation

accusing the state of intoxication 

the past should have been a clear warning

for the awkward good morning

I don’t remember:

thinking clearly under the influence

both of us ever being sober together

refusing any invitation from you


 

I remember:

thinking I could handle the persistent burn down my throat

my laugh that sounded in perfect intervals- it annoyed me too

being jealous your eyes only caught your phones glance

I’d like to forget:

waking up, however not alone, feeling awkward

the shaking, anxiety, and regret

showing up

Just lying on the sidewalk

staring at the dark sky

and the exhaled smoke

while I finish the night with one more drink

I didn’t need it but I was waiting

why’d you just drive away

not say a word physically

but I could hear the door shut

and the breaks

I think we need a mechanic 

needing your assistance

he was troubled

puking, crying, suicidal

and you knew him the longest

but you just left it up to me

and all I could do

was cry right along side

Continuous game play

why?

I read you so well now

I knew your intentions

lonely

to say the least

but yet here I am

eye to eye

nothing more

but our minds say different

I’m Drunk 

Can I please be the next Bukowski?

I promise I’m just as fucked up

I can’t open it

this is suppose to be a new start

filled with wonderful intentions

beautiful scenarios 

of me skipping around

in love

making you jealous

yes, that’s what I want

but all that fills my head is 

the stupid past

I swear if I have to go to bed once more

with your name being the last thing 

I think about

-empty threat

I’ll admit

I just figured out 

that I only care

for the sake of caring

because revenge is not an emotion

This makes no sense

but I don’t give a fuck

I write this hoping you’ll see it

but you won’t