the other things

sure,

you tell me

you love me

and

say it

at the right times,

somehow

knowing when i

need to hear it,

and yeah,

you’ll give

me a kiss

when you walk

through the door

knowing

i need to feel

your angelic softness

to calm my anxiety

from a day

of fabricated stress,

and it’s true,

you’ll wrap your

flawless body

around me

in the morning

when we

wake and

open our

dream weary

eyes next

to one another

caffeinating me

with your

electric touch,

but

it’s when

you hold

and comfort

my

mangled, butchered

feet and legs

when you’re

not thinking

about anything else,

and when

you rub my head

with your uneven

nails

as we watch

mindless television

(what’s new on Netflix?)

and when

you fix me a

sandwich

seasoned with

ingredients borne

from love

when I don’t even

know I need to eat –

it’s those

things,

the intangibles

embedded

within the

tangibles,

that mean

the world to me,

and it’s why

I’ll love you

forever.

 

-JDR-

where i’m going is where you might be

things are about

to go back to

normal

to a place of

anxious comfort

and

empty

meaningless

“how are yous?

fines.

and yous?”

 

looking for love

around

three-quarter-

felt-grey walls

short enough

for me

to peer

over

at peers

 

staring out

wall-to-wall

windows

on the 12th floor

wondering

what the freshly

paved asphalt

feels like from here

 

cords wrapped

around limbs

wrapped around

phones

covered in wires

wired to devices

entangled

in

an

inter-

office

romance

 

plastic bag lunches,

lunches with

plastic bags

(hold the latex)

 

and in another world

there are

kids that carry

food up,

down,

and around

the mountains to feed

their families

while i swivel about

in this ergonomic

chair

sipping on a

vile

ten dollar

organic super-detox

juice

figuring out ways

to pass the time

and sneak away

from my family

 

there has to be

more to this life

This Life

but the flickering

tube lights above

play tunes like

the living horror

movie inside

my head

 

I tried living

a simpler,

No, not simpler,

A fuller life

once

but it turns out

I fear originality

 

I cower in its

presence

 

and

maybe,

but probably,

and

most certainly

worst of all,

I’m a slave to

the taste

of

expensive alcohol

nice clothes

fancy shoes

sports cars

bloody steaks

pretty women

moral bankruptcy

apathy

and

white male clichés.

 

-JDR-

reunited with no attachments

someone i know

died a couple weeks

ago

and it’s not the first

time

someone

from my

label straddling

generation

has departed

before me

 

some people i know

reunited with

people they once

knew

last week

to reminisce

about what they

used to be

twenty years ago

 

pictures

and all

 

posts of

receding hairlines

extra inches around

the waist line

crows feet

crowing desperately

at the vanishing

act

of youth

with a

shared

confused

disdain

for the youth

of today

 

kids and marriages

addictions and hiccups

half-truths and

full-blown lies

ripple

from the smooth

rocks

skipped

smoked

and

concentrated

along the flooded

streets of

tears from

dead dreams

and empty

pockets

 

one two

three four

they went they came

less and more

more or less

 

i watched from afar

a safe distance

from the

palpable despair

 

without a care

 

without a care

 

-JDR-

bon appétit

today

as i

walked

the streets

to my local

pharmacies,

 

one to pick up

syrups

and bars

 

another to

pick up

codeine

 

one to buy condoms

and cigarettes

 

another for

paper cups

and penicillin

to dissolve

the ludes

 

and one just

for the fuck

of it,

 

i saw a man

walking with

his hands

 

he had both

legs

 

but they

were

crossed

and

tucked

 

he gracefully

sauntered

with

those hands

better than

most walk

with their feet

(especially better

than the drunks

i know).

 

i’m not sure what

he was doing

or why he

was performing

such a remarkable

stunt

 

but i did

wonder if

he ate with his

feet

just to

fuck with

the ways

of the world.

 

-JDR-

new views old habits with scorpions

I’m

in a new place

with a different view

of dilapidated rooftops

and uncoordinated

color schemes

it all

seems familiar

perhaps

the naked ladies

and the cologne

I spray

when I want to

remember

her

and

the incredible

blow jobs

ignite the neurons

or

maybe

it’s the overpriced

cheap red wine

made from

agent orange

grapes

fermented with

the blood

of the innocent

sipped from

recycled paper cups

decorated with doraemon

that makes it

all seem

so familiar

but one thing is certain

as I lay naked

and drunk

on a cigarette burned

and cum stained

couch

scorpion

in the background

I’m not used to living

with someone I don’t know

and surely

she’s not happy

about it

either.

-JDR-

social media regrets

I was late to the social

media

spectacle

and for many reasons

I regret

my decision

to conform

to the inevitable

 

my life as a contrarian

hadn’t produced anything

worth more than a

“I’m better than you”

quip

for not blindly

following the

uncivilized masses

 

gifs and memes

blogs and vlogs

shares and retweets

 

snaps and emojis

 

insta-internet-stardom

 

were not on my

lexical spectrum.

 

fast forward two years

since I finally

bent the knee to

the modern day kings

 

and now i recieve

reminders about

who i became friends with

 

what news stories i shared

 

what drugs i consumed

that led to ill-fated

pictures

black-eyes

and

incorrect predictions.

 

and in this

i find solace

and

peace

that in two years

from now

 

this poem

will

reappear

on my timeline

 

and i’ll remember

this night,

 

especially that it was

like any other night,

 

drowned in booze

and

little round pills.

 

-JDR-