DEADLINE

this is how it happens:

it starts out that you’re moving mountains
on your back.

“you are working on
a deadline
don’t fuck this up okay”

………………gold stars…………all those gold stars……
..meant nothing………“good behavior”………..“times tables”………..
“not using the bathroom as much as that one person who uses it too much”

“wan,” she says, “you look wan”
or was it “your words are wan”
and “you look unwell”

so you rewrite, and this is the dreaded part
at three in the morning when the coffee has
bound to your fat for eternity like lsd on your
spinal cord just stuck there stuck there, a
part of you now, just chemicals, you’re just
chemicals, you’re just……………………………..

and there is a brick wall that you crash through
and the cursor blinking on the screen drives nails into you
and you reach a point where you would rather die
than write a single word more about basketball
and you say the editor can go fuck herself
and the editor can deal with 10 inches instead of 14
and the editor can suck my dick
but the editor is a nice lady
and it’s not her fault that

………………..
you go home.
and everything becomes a series of things that happens
which is normal, that’s how things normally progress
this you tell yourself after your alarm turns itself off
you’re watching flies fornicate on your thigh
but in some weird way it turns you on so you don’t move
until they’re done, then you’re late anyway so why go into work at all
nothing seems to work in this place

///////////aahgh//////////ahhhh///////////////help me/////////
you can’t stop thinking about those days gone by though
you wonder if Michael Jordan has buckled under the pressure
you wonder if it’s possible to buy your way to happiness
you wonder if it’s possible to buy your way to Michael Jordan
you wonder if it’s possible
you wonder if it’s possible

it’s all too much to bear,
you think

…….everything…………infinity………..#000000………alaskan tundra…….
ambient black metal…………the endless things buried beneath layers
of dust and concrete and the human film that belonged to people who
fought their food before eating it and their bones and the bones of their
food and the screaming screaming screaming voices of all of those
things wanting to be recognized……………………………………..cascadia.

and then one day as if waking from a dream
you write fourteen inches about high school
b-ball. in half an hour. and somehow you
are back in business, still afloat, feeding off
the sun. plankton cruising the surf. and it
all seems too great, america, all of it, everyone,
the alaskan tundra, it’s full of possibility
that you just cannot wait to dig your heels into
and break forever the virgin smoothness.

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Published by

CJC

Freelance human being.

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