this is for all the love we never made
Brooklyn, I’ve given you all and now I am nothing.
Two years and seven months, two dollars and twenty-five cents, I have one subway ride left.
October 13, 2009.
I can’t stand my own mind.
Brooklyn when will we end this war in our hearts?
Go fuck yourself and your mistress upstate.
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t write again until I have a story worth telling.
Brooklyn when will you be angelic?
When will your heart be open?
Brooklyn why did you break all your promises?
When will you leave your room full of mirrors?
When will you be worthy of my offerings?
Brooklyn why are your women full of tears?
Brooklyn when will you live in faith?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need without coming back to an empty room?
Brooklyn after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way for us to settle this argument.
Your heart is gone and your belongings are being packed, I don’t think you’ll come back, its sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of a practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
Brooklyn stop pulling away I know what I’m doing.
Brooklyn the leaves are falling.
I haven’t read the newspaper in months, the obituaries are all over the front page.
Brooklyn I feel sentimental about Europe.
Brooklyn I used to be evil when I was young, I’m very sorry.
I drink until I can’t remember every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and watch the dust in the suns reflection.
I can’t open the closet door.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Audre Lorde.
My psychiatrist thinks I’m perfectly unsound.
Brooklyn I know you so well but I’m lost.
I won’t say the Lord’s prayer, your mother says it for me.
I have mystical visions and violent memories.
I am trying to forget our past.
Brooklyn I still haven’t told you what you did to me after I came over from Buffalo.
I’m addressing you.
You are always looking away.
Are you going to let this city you built collapse?
Manhattan is only an island.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by evangelical Christians?
I’m obsessed with evangelical Christians.
They are the key to explaining why you’ve abandoned me.
I go to church and read the bible every week.
The chapel stares at me every time I go the corner store.
The bible is hidden on the bottom shelf of my bookcase.
It’s always telling me about responsibility. Disciples are serious. Religion is serious. Everyone is serious but you.
Brooklyn who could withstand such grief?
Brooklyn where is Jesus? I want to trade his cross for mine.
I can’t understand the world any more.
It occurs to me that I am Brooklyn.
I am talking to myself again.
Two years and seven months, two dollars and twenty-five cents, I have one subway ride left.
October 13, 2009.
I can’t stand my own mind.
Brooklyn when will we end this war in our hearts?
Go fuck yourself and your mistress upstate.
I don’t feel good don’t bother me.
I won’t write again until I have a story worth telling.
Brooklyn when will you be angelic?
When will your heart be open?
Brooklyn why did you break all your promises?
When will you leave your room full of mirrors?
When will you be worthy of my offerings?
Brooklyn why are your women full of tears?
Brooklyn when will you live in faith?
I’m sick of your insane demands.
When can I go into the supermarket and buy what I need without coming back to an empty room?
Brooklyn after all it is you and I who are perfect not the next world.
Your machinery is too much for me.
You made me want to be a saint.
There must be some other way for us to settle this argument.
Your heart is gone and your belongings are being packed, I don’t think you’ll come back, its sinister.
Are you being sinister or is this some form of a practical joke?
I’m trying to come to the point.
I refuse to give up my obsession.
Brooklyn stop pulling away I know what I’m doing.
Brooklyn the leaves are falling.
I haven’t read the newspaper in months, the obituaries are all over the front page.
Brooklyn I feel sentimental about Europe.
Brooklyn I used to be evil when I was young, I’m very sorry.
I drink until I can’t remember every chance I get.
I sit in my house for days on end and watch the dust in the suns reflection.
I can’t open the closet door.
My mind is made up there’s going to be trouble.
You should have seen me reading Audre Lorde.
My psychiatrist thinks I’m perfectly unsound.
Brooklyn I know you so well but I’m lost.
I won’t say the Lord’s prayer, your mother says it for me.
I have mystical visions and violent memories.
I am trying to forget our past.
Brooklyn I still haven’t told you what you did to me after I came over from Buffalo.
I’m addressing you.
You are always looking away.
Are you going to let this city you built collapse?
Manhattan is only an island.
Are you going to let your emotional life be run by evangelical Christians?
I’m obsessed with evangelical Christians.
They are the key to explaining why you’ve abandoned me.
I go to church and read the bible every week.
The chapel stares at me every time I go the corner store.
The bible is hidden on the bottom shelf of my bookcase.
It’s always telling me about responsibility. Disciples are serious. Religion is serious. Everyone is serious but you.
Brooklyn who could withstand such grief?
Brooklyn where is Jesus? I want to trade his cross for mine.
I can’t understand the world any more.
It occurs to me that I am Brooklyn.
I am talking to myself again.