Join Together.

It's odd to think that, in 50 years, most of the people I see today will be thousands of miles away.
That, or dead.
So, what is it?
They'll be successful,
or they'll die stupid deaths. 


It sounds like right now is the hardest time to live through.
So many drugs, man.
And it's changing everything.
It'll change mindsets, priorities. 
...if they get that far.
I could kill myself driving.
Driving on the railroad tracks.
I could light something  on fire.
The possibilities are endless.


What if I died in a car wreck tomorrow?
Or, I got hit by a bus?
What markers do I have to say I've been here, and that I've done something?
This blog.
A headstone.
It's just the same with everyone else.
Their absence won't make a difference, really.
Unless you're one of the people that got in with them.
And I can't say I have that many people who would really remember me.
I should do something.
I should write a book.
I should build something. 
Achieve something.


Ah, well.
I'm just a person.
My impact is small.
If I die, I will.
I've done most of what I've wanted to.
I've lived a pretty full life, at 15.
Maybe I'll just try to live at this point.


That seems to be out of character for a 15 year old.
Oddly enough.

Silent, Sleepy, Still.

It's early morning time.
Nothing moves.
Nothing creaks.
All but dead.
A slender figure moves through the dawn.
Cutting the still air.
One squeaky shoe.
Nothing else.
The silent rustle of cotton and wool,
with smells and memories.


Hair.
From her.
Never before seen,
such a perfect being.
Perfectly composed,
perfectly presented,
perfectly dressed.
One gin and tonic
had the perfect color
to match her skin.
She was not ghastly,
she was not stupid;
she was of her own.
Now, but only a memory.
Of the night's events.


Cigarettes.
Not his, obviously.
He tosses them into the gutter
after a moment's thought.
"These could change me,"
he thought. 
Forever sophisticated,
without eternal life.
The cool
takes from your life 
in the end.
Is it worth it?
Another moment's thought.
"Maybe next week."
As gravity carried the cloves
to their end.


Anti-perspirant.
Not his, again.
came to save the day.
He finds that
even a small thing 
like sweat 
can keep him
from having a 
good time. 
Still,
the horrendous stench
of a third party
caused him to
not have a 
good time.


Phone Numbers.
One was too tall,
one was two short,
one could barely stand.
Six 9's,
four 5's,
three 1's,
three 7's
two 8's,
two 3's,
one 2.
With any luck,
he'd dial them in the right order.
But,
without luck,
these ladies' 
answering machines 
joined the cigarettes.


Pen.
With great potential,
was always at his side.
Writing silly things,
important things,
forgotten things,
redundant things,
irrelevant things,
things that didn't matter.
His name 
was the only thing 
worth writing,
but the pen would lie dormant
for now.


The long walk
seemed very long,
without end,
never tiring.
He didn't know where he was going,
just where he'd been;
what he'd had.
He didn't have much
from the past;
but the future,
though bleak,
was pretty clear.

Damn Thou Louse.

Thee louse who annoyith me to no end.

Thee louse who persistith.

Thee louse who taketh so much.

Damn thee, louse.

Not a normal day foreith me.

Not a single friend foreith me.

Not a happy moment foreith me.

Damn thee, louse.

Help me, not.

Assist me, not.

Taketh; do.

Damn thee, louse.

There be-ith but one louse;

not 'lice'.

Not 'them'.

Not 'some'.

Damn thou, louse.

The Fading Collection.

"Le Pull."
December 15, 2009.

A union.
A union of love.
The unbreakable bond.
The mortar to life's bricks.
The greatest thing on could ever have,
while also the most disappointing.

When love is broken,
the sweater, the weave,
is all undone.
One tug
on one thread
destroys the entire piece.
The piece that has been woven
by time, by experience.

Although nothing is the same,
although nothing seems right,
the threads still exist.
They can be woven
to make something wonderful
again.
Not the same, though.
Different.
A different pattern.
A new design.
A stronger weave.

....shall we begin?


"An Evening With Loneliness."
October 6, 2009.

The hum of a refrigerator,
the tick of a clock,
are the ambiance,
the setting's sound.
A large house
keeps the rain out,
yet the loneliness in.

A warm study,
a cold mind.
Cold couches,
cold chairs,
save one.

He sits there,
holding nothing but a note:

"Goodbye, Friend."

All his eggs,
having been in one basket,
have been broken.
All ties have been severed.
Only him remains,
for himself,
for his sanity.
She can move on;
she has others.
But she was his world.
The only basket
worth his time.

So now,
he sits.
Alone,
without a friend in the world.

With his note,
with his warm chair,
with his cold heart,
he waits.
He wonders.

What's next?

Foiled Again.

I don't know what's going on.

I don't know why these things keep happening.

Maybe it's the company I keep.

Or the fact that I keep no company.

I can't have anything I want without destroying something else.

And it's not even my fault.

I'm just me.

I've become this horrible thing,

everyone hates me because

I'm the 'bad guy'.

When things go wrong, it's my doing.

But it's not.

I didn't do this.

She did.

She would leave everything, everyone for me.

And everyone knew that.

So I turned into the enemy.

And I still am.

She'll only have me if she wants to lose everything else.

And she doesn't.

Jesus Christ.

This is on of those times

when you can have everything.

There's no need to purge.

I just want her to be here.

I don't want to ruin everything.

She left me, and I think no worse of anyone else.

And I know I've made mistakes.

But they aren't mistakes if they don't happen again.

It shouldn't be this hard.

It shouldn't be this hard, for her.

Why can't she have me and everything else?

I'm not preventing anything.

I'm sorry if all of you hate me.

I'm doing the best I can.

She should able to be with me and retain everything else.

Because I know I'm not worth it

if being with me means I'm all she gets.

Dancing With Myself.

There's good in everything.

After the initial events,

the rest seem good.

You have to go through pain

to get good.

I wanted to fall in love again,

and by God I have.

And it's exactly like it used to be;

a distance between everything.

So many hurdles to clear to get where I want to go.

But this isn't like Twister,

it isn't awkward,

it's natural.

Nobody's worth more;

only a few are worth less.

I've arrived at the place I wanted to go.

I'm single, but not alone.

I'm not close to anyone,

so no one can break me down.

I'm invincible.

I'm new.

I'm Bailey White, God damn it;

fear me.

The Departed.

Tim Bruder is no longer.

He died in his sleep last Saturday,

and was not there yesterday.

I did not know him very well,

but I always held him in the highest regard.

Even while cracking jokes in the back of the room.

I'd always do what he wanted,

even if I didn't know how to do it.

He had a silent knowledge about him,

first assuming we knew,

then stepping in with his encyclopedic knowledge.

He was forgetful,

at times he was uninvolved,

but it was because he believed in us.

It was because he trusted us.

Even if we were the scruffiest bunch in the school,

he trusted that we'd do the right thing.

And if we didn't,

he'd rewind the tapes,

and smack us down.

Verbally, of course.

And even know he's only said my name 4 times,

I'll miss him.

I'll miss him dearly.

Because he represented my favorite part of school.

Auto shop.

-----

But that's not enough tragedy for one day.

My wonderful Taylor is now elsewhere.

With another man.

Giving her love to him.

And it's all my fault.

I put a stranglehold on her.

And she longed for freedom.

And that's what she got.

She got away from me.

I lost the greatest thing in my life.

Out of the great love we shared,

all that's left for me is anger.

And memories.

We traveled together,

we slept together,

we put trust in each other.

But, the emphasis was too great.

She became resentful,

because she was my only priority.

Everything had slipped away,

and only she was there.

For me, that was everything I wanted.

I wanted to be seen with her.

I wanted my kids to be like her.

I wanted the security of her,

to show that I was not hopeless,

that I could have another in my life,

and that it could work.

But,

that was shattered.

All we had is now gone.

Replaced with resentment and disdain.

All she can give me now is her appearance.

Her glowing face,

and wonderful smile.

But I know it's not for me.

She doesn't smile because of me.

She doesn't smile for me.

She smiles for her freedom.

She smiles for the present.

She smiles for doing what she's done.

And there's no turning back.

I'm not at the top any longer.

I've fallen into the sea of everybody else.

But I know,

that she loved me once,

and as I drift in the sea,

in the sea of everyone,

I wonder,

if that will be enough for her to love me again.

I have a lifetime ahead of me.

But maybe not.

In the words of my stroke-plagued P.E. teacher,

"Tomorrow is promised to no one."

If I can never have her again,

I will always have the memories.

And hopefully,

in time,

she can be mine again.

And we can share the time,

knowing that we're good for each other.

Knowing that nothing can ever break

true love.