driving home from college
at four in the morning
with tears streaming down my face
wasn't my proudest moment

fragile promises easily shattered
and smiles easily reversed,
the heartbreak i felt
wasn't the easiest lesson.

perhaps something steered
me toward that mountain road,
or maybe i wanted to be lost,
adrift, for just a little while.

but when a doe sprinted forth
and i slammed on my brakes,
it stared at me a pregnant moment
before continuing on, as life must.

missing

wake up, grab the soap,
shower, make coffee,
drive into work,
stay there, drive home.

realize the soap is dial,
remember she liked dove.
notice the coffee is black,
think of her love for creamer.

listen to NPR on the way in,
and how she'd blare her music.
pass that French restaurant,
she made me try that I loved.

get home and sit on the couch,
in one of two over-used cushions,
before retiring to my bedroom,
where I have one too many pillows.

my shadow

i first saw my shadow
when i was 10.
my mom went to the store,
and didn't come back.

it hung around from there,
in the corner of my room
most days, watching
as i sat on my bed, alone.

it disappeared during the day,
in the sunlight, as shadows
are wont to do,
but returned every night.

i battled and kept it at bay
as long as i possibly could,
even as it became a cloak
that wholly enveloped my soul.

i became the living host
of a terrible, terrible thing,
and knew the only way out
was to take away its source.

random thoughts from an aspiring comedian

waterboarding at guantanamo

sounds like a lot of fun,

if you didn't happen to know

what either of them are.

when you think about it, 

your shadow is light

that traveled 93 million miles,

only to be blocked by you.

they should film

a sequel to the movie

groundhog day,

and re-release the original.

on april fool's day a porno site

should make a video where 

a plumber shows up to a house,

fixes the toilet, and leaves.

i wonder if my dog follows me

into the bathroom when i pee

because i go out when he does

and he thinks that's how it works.

every single day,

someone on earth

unknowingly lets out

the biggest poo for that day.

thanks for the Internet,

I've probably seen more

naked women, then all

my ancestors combined.

if Goldilocks slept in three beds,

then momma and poppa bear

slept separately, and baby bear

is the only thing keeping them together.

older vehicles used to have 

automatic collision avoidance

and could take you home if you were drunk,

then we got rid of the horse.

cowboys who ride off into the sunset

will quickly run out of daylight

and have to camp outside of town.

should've just stayed put for the night.

the idea of a ghost who moans

probably came from children

whose parents were having sex

and denied having heard the sounds.

i'd like to thank the brave men

and women, who died long ago,

tasting which plants were edible,

and which were not.

in 500 days i could meet someone,

get married, have a baby,

get divorced, and still

be using the same box of Q-tips.

if you think about it,

taking candy from a baby

would actually be a very

responsible thing to do.

(from reddit showerthoughts)

domestics on 2-2-8-0

my dog, short, squat, gazed

with pleading eyes

as He munched on a

granola bar with chocolate.

"can you be careful?" i asked,

"crumbs from those get everywhere."

He wasn't having a good day,

and soon after, neither was i. 

it's grotesquely fascinating

how fast you can cede power

like a boxer cedes a match

after blow after blow. 

another: while sleeping

my toe scratched his leg,

or it must've,

as i awoke with a bruise.

i'd reached the end of the rope,

mine not being nearly long enough,

so when He asked if i was fucking his friend,

the lie slipped as i had a hundred times.

pong

the guy in the cubicle
in front of me
has a pong screensaver,
the one with the little ball.

back and forth,
whenever he's in a meeting
or out to lunch,
perpetual motion.

he died over the weekend,
now his screen is blank
as i ponder all the time
i've wasted watching pong.

nigga

heard a lady on the L lean over to her friend
"well i just don't think that if we aren't allowed to say it, neither are they"
and i looked over and it took everything i had not to get in her face
get in her face and stare her in the eyes and tell her:
fuck you.
i'll tell you why you don't get to say this word, because this word isn't yours,
you haven't lived the word, know what it means.
your words are found in SAT prep books and college classes
this word - this one word - isn't for you
it's for the 12 year old who comes home and makes his 6 year old who isn't going to school mac and cheese for dinner because his moms is drugged out on the couch for the ninth day in a row.
it's for the street corner he's gonna stand on instead of going to school to provide.
maybe - maybe - if your kid's kids' kids go through the same struggle, maybe they can use it, too. but not you.
you get so many words we don't. so we get this one.
you get "good evening, officer", and we get handcuffs and a face full of concrete.
so how about i trade you our one word for those three.
then maybe you'll realize that even if we wanted to and we didn't say the word, we still need to watch out for police, just like you watch out for your purse when you see us on the L.
don't think i didn't notice.
you take your stares, your fear with you when you get off in your safe zone.
because i don't want it, or need it where i'm headed.
i'll just take my word.