In Tides

Water has always been a remedy.

Showering with the lights off.

Holding your breath beneath miles of ocean.

Crying until you can no longer breathe.

Swimming your muscles numb.


April 20th. 2010. Oil spill. Football fields of black and debris.


We made headlines.


I guess I forgot to think of humans as chemical reactions until I was reminded of the first time unholy things sparked from your mouth, knowing that you must be the conductor and, I, the charge.

When I learned about combustion in science class, I thought of the death of entire planets and the day we forgot how to say each other’s names like bible verses.

All carbon dioxide and water.


We seemed to fall apart.


Last night, I forgot what it meant to be held together by my own gravity; to be minuscule and massive, simple and complex beyond knowledge.

What it meant to have radiating energy, to come near exploding; to spend life changing, rotating, and moving.


Suddenly, I was sent hurdling.


This morning, I found sea salt caked on my wrists; a sign that the sky was darkening once more.
Talk into the sea shells. Ask the tops of my thighs, my crushed collar bones; ask my teeth cracked, acid eroded knuckles.


Ask the people who utter my name with pure rage.
They will tell you: I used to be apologetic, once.

I self-destruct in miniature ways each day.



I was never afraid of the idea of collapse.


Until today.



Driving in Cars with Criminals

After waking up this morning at approximately “way too early for life, I hate everyone” o’ clock, I got up, dressed myself, saved the world, caked on copious amounts of much needed concealer, folded laundry, and started an all girl’s school for children in Africa.

Not necessarily in that order.

Natalie had her last check in to her parole officer today for a charge she got back in high school for a catfight worthy enough for MTV and, because she had no one else to accompany her, I agreed to go with.

Mistake number one.

You see, here’s the thing about Natalie. Although she’s a very sweet and caring person who would do absolutely do anything for you (as long as her make-up was done), she’s also the type of person that, if not given her way, your best option is to “slowly back away from the animal while making soft, non-threatening noises. Do not make eye contact with the animal, do not turn and run.  If the subject charges you, you have little choice but to protect yourself by dropping into a curled fetal position.  Put your arms over your head and roll up as tight as possible.”

Yeah, I thought that was funny too until she nearly took off a limb.

So anyways, after about an hour or so of getting ready, with a couple packs of cheap Camel cigarettes and our sanity somewhat in tow, we hit the road.

Mistake number two.

Although, for the most part, the drive up there was fairly decent, Natalie decided to play her music the whole ride up there. Normally, I don’t mind when people play their music around me. I actually can appreciate listening to all kinds of music and all they have to offer.

Except for Natalie’s.

You see, Natalie listens to garbage. And by garbage, I mean watered down, post-hardcore screamo shit with song names like “Say Cheese and Die” and “Kill Me Slowly” that more or less sound like a bunch of whiny 12 year old boys going through a rough phase in puberty.

Needless to say, the rest of my day was filled with mediocre stick shift driving, unhealthy amounts of chain-smoking, unhealthier amounts of road rage, ghetto courthouse breakdowns and shakedowns, sweaty armpits due to a mixture of anxiety and a heater- happy driver, and a massive headache.

Although I’m completely convinced that my lungs are now Camel Blue crystalized, one good thing did, however, come out of today’s little adventure;

An entirely new appreciation for sleep.