Thought Addiction

Thought Addiction
By Lei

I like you in the folds of my brain

I like you lingering in last night’s sleeplessness

where you feel like a disconcerting dream

 I cannot quite shake off

I like you wandering through my lucidity

weaving in and out of the sanity

 I pretend to maintain

I like you where you are

just far enough away

 for me to sometimes forget you exist

I like you hiding in my memory

& then suddenly attacking the forefront of my brain

 with some arbitrary moment in our past interactions

  usually one I spent ninety percent of in my mind

   worrying you were criticizing every bit of me

    or imagining some extended version

     of our current conversation

      and then replaying the moment

       on an endless loop

        in the ensuing days

         like the favorite song

          I can’t get enough of

I like you popping up

cropping out reality

 as I try to focus

  on anything else

   anything that’s

     not you

I like you even in my angry realization

that you’re not who my mind tells me you are

 no matter how often I want you to be

I like you slipping

trickling

 falling sweetly into place

  never into my arms

   always into my mind

I like you as you are:

my very own idea

 the one that never

  fails to make me

   smile

Pompous and Single

By Late Night Writings

I feel like shit pretty much all the time, but I function well enough to do what I need to do. I’m miserable, but I use it to my advantage. My life isn’t that bad, really. I have some pretty good things in here. I just don’t let them make me feel better about myself because they aren’t the things that I want to make me feel good. I don’t want nonspecific joys. I want incredibly specific joys. I only want those joys. When one of those nonspecific things plugs the drain in my tank of happiness, I will yank that plug out and let the happiness drain. I want to be fixed by what I want to fix me. Those are things I probably won’t get. Maybe I only want them because I can’t have them, but I really fucking want them, so I am going to get them. I’ll put forth all my effort. I will use all my patience waiting. I will make more patience and more effort to use. I will be happy on the terms I want and I won’t let the happiness from stupid little things infect me. Those should-be-grateful-for things that I am not grateful for. I will be spoiled. I will let myself be spoiled. I want to spoil myself with the weird things that I want. I want to go across that bridge. I am not talking about a metaphorical bridge, I am talking about that little bridge that’s completely unnecessary. I will walk up that delightful staircase at the end of that street I would otherwise not have a reason to visit. I will get fucked in a magnificently expansive field in the middle of the day. I will go see that abandoned building. I’m trying to sound like I have a specific building in mind, but I don’t. I want somebody else to choose for me and I want them to take me there. Spontaneously. I want to do all these things with somebody I love to be with and I want to feel like they love to be with me. I want them to be as excited about my stupid adventures as I am. Maybe two people. Maybe three people. As long as we all enjoy each other, love bridges, stairs, fucking in fields, going to buildings, and every other stupid thing I might want to do or they might want to do that I want to do too. I want to feel that belonging. I want to satisfy my self. I want to live the life I want to live, the life I see, the life I think of. If I can be happy in the one I’m in, I don’t care. I don’t care about this life that I am living. I want the life I want, and I want to be happy in there.

I will do every unnecessarily specific thing I want to do. I will do every single one of them and it will make me happier than I deserve to be. But I want to be that happy, so I will be that happy. I’m going to do it and I will be nauseatingly proud of being as happy as I will be. People will look at me and know that I have what I want, just because the smile I’ll be wearing will be as pompous as I will feel. That smile will be my badge of achievement. It will let everyone know that I am happier than they will ever be. In the mirror, it will remind me that the effort I put into getting what I want brought me all of it and more. My pompous smile will be worn proudly.

Souvenir on the Skin

By Jem Morgenstern

During the day, it’s so hot that even the rocks burn. Even in the shade, my skin boils. Looking through the windows, all I can see is the heat. Sitting by those windows, I can feel the heat seeping through to strip my skin of the little moisture it’s able to retain. I treasure the little water I’m allowed to use each day. I worship the plants that thrive six levels below the surface in the greenhouse we rely on to survive. I’ve never seen a bird. I’ve never stepped foot outside. All I’ve heard of the outside world is that fixing pipe H on the exterior East wall is the worst experience of our engineer’s life. Nobody else wants to talk about the outside. When they step back in, they ignore the questions I ask. Most of the time, it’s like they don’t even hear me talking. They’re always tired. They smell like dirt. They get extra water for the trouble they go through out there. The torture of the sun.

Someday, I want to go out there.

I want to feel that dry air, that dirt, the sun’s rays that burn everything they touch. Even if I can only get out there for a second, at least I’ll have felt it. Even if I only get to reach my arm through the gateway, at least a part of me will know what it feels like to be out there. A piece of me might be scarred by the sun. A patch of my skin could be a souvenir from the outside. It could be my own piece of the sun. I could look at it to remember the electric sting and the torrid air. The barren outside world would follow me on a reddened splotch of scar tissue.

But they’ll never let me out there.

I’ll never feel that air.

I’ll never be consecrated with a scar.

I’ll never be tortured by the sun.

Human Intentions (and other unknown luxuries)

human intentions (and other unknown luxuries)

by leiani brown

why’d you tell me you two were close?

why’d you say you missed me and hated the distance between us? why’d you say you were out of money, then splurge it on a trip up the coast with people who were not me?

why’d you ask me how to make your friends like your wife?

why do you look at me like you could eat me, like there’s a hate bubbling just beneath those eyes and it’s no secret?

why’d you tell me you deleted the one person i care about most?

why’d you laugh when i told you he died?

why’d you tell me it was gonna be okay? why’d you tell me i didn’t have to sit by you, like you were some kind of burden, some pity acquaintance?

why’d you tell me you were institutionalized? why’d you say it like that?

why’d you try to take your life? didn’t you know it’d break their heart?

why’d you tell me you liked boys? why’d you scream it in a confined space on the night that was supposed to be someone’s utter bliss?

why’d you tell me you loved it? why’d you ask me to do it again, with just you?

why’d you assume you’d be so replaceable?

why’d you ask me to go with you?

why’d you keep it a secret? how could you ask me not to talk, to suppress the truth that was ripping apart your body? couldn’t you see i was already silent?

why do you share with me your life, in ten second vids? did you ever want to really know me? did you give it up after just two tries?

why’d you tell the world i was your happiest memory? then look at her like that?

why’d you ask me to open up? and pretend to understand my silence? then shout at me for volume, in front of all of them? then go on laughing, like you couldn’t see me?

why’d you thunder with applause?

why’d you take those pictures?

why’d you tell me not to trip?

why’d you teach me how to hit? why’d you tell me i could win? why’d you invest in me?

why’d you wait until i spoke first?

why’d you stop replying?

why’d you stop replying?

why'd you stop replying?

the answers are a luxury

my own confused human jumble

will likely never claim

and your intentions are yours i know

but wondering will always belong to me

Conceptual Piece Four

By Late Night Writings

Finding an entire community in the belly of a gargantuan beast isn’t so rare these days. Anytime I’ve been swallowed up by an immanis crocodylinae duplus, I would rest easy on my trip down its esophagus knowing that I would be sleeping comfortably in the bed of a cozy inn within half an hour. Each time I have been guzzled up by a loxodonta grandis maximus, I've known I’d land in the welcoming arms of a small city whose economy runs on tourism. Whenever I have slurped up by a balaenoptera corporosus inmensus, I've gladly immersed myself in the local culture.
Before the Galactic Scale Reconfiguration, this wouldn’t have been possible. The largest animals on Earth weren’t physically capable of containing even a small village. They weren’t capable of swallowing a small trailer. I doubt a dog house would even fit in there. Looking at pictures from back then - any year prior to the reconfiguration - you can see that their elephants were about the same size as a modern bloodhound. Bloodhounds were about the size of a modern mouse. Of course, not everything was scaled up using the same ratios, so this won’t give you the full picture of how much things have changed, but it does give you a vague idea of how much things have changed. For an example of something that almost didn’t change at all, there’s us. Humans were scaled up so slightly that the percentage of growth is entirely insignificant. It’s not noticeable. Even for the people who were alive during the reconfiguration and therefore experienced the changes, it mostly went unnoticed. Some people may have have just had slightly less trouble reaching the cups on the high shelf, but it made no significant impact on their lives.

Imagine living in a version of our world so small that an eight hour non-stop flight from the East coast of North America to the West coast of the European landmass was considered long. Imagine living in a world where rats were known for being sneaky little rodents that were small enough to be squashed with a pan or small enough to use one of our modern gnat traps. Imagine not knowing you have lice because they’re too small to see when they’re young. These days, lice are as big as our fingers, and there’s no way that you could be uncertain of whether not you had one nestled in your hair. Imagine keeping a parrot in your living room, instead of boarding the windows to keep one from smashing its way in to steal your pet cicada. Back then, there was a completely different set of domesticated animals: dogs, cats, rabbits, a ton of things we see in zoos these days. They were completely different, as you already know, but it’s amazing to imagine seeing miniature versions of those things rolling onto their backs and begging for treats. Think of replacing your mantis with a miniature cat, putting a leash on your cat and walking it about town, or picking up a cat. Even just picturing these things feels silly. Though imagine how people from before the Galactic Scale Reconfiguration would feel about how the world is now. All the bugs that we keep as pets used to be freaks of nature. They would complain about sixteen hour flights. They wouldn’t survive here. The world we live in isn’t for the people who made it. The changes were for the people of the future. This future seemed barbaric and disgusting to them, but we all think it’s pretty good. Moving forward, we have to keep this in mind. We have to remember that changes like the GSR were made for the people of the future and that many of the decisions we make are also for the people of the future. We may not benefit from the changes, we might be terrified by the changes, but the future isn’t for us, so we need to work to build the future that the upcoming generations are demanding. If they end up regretting it, it’s not really on us, and they’ll be able to handle it.

fall disillusion

fall disillusion

by lei

dethroned of all naiveté

stripped of warm preconceptions:

a premonition of harsh winter winds

winding their way,

weaving into me

—soft whispers of tomorrow’s gusts.

i hear their stories

watch their lives unfold

try to convince myself i’ll get there one day

but tonight,

in cold autumn waves

i realize i will wear the title of youngest

til the holes in the soles of my shoes

are no longer the negative spaces

but the overall -ness.

Renovated Shack

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To the Fishbowl, Again

By Leiani Brown

yeah

i told you i'd try

not because i will

but because i have learned how to please

how to shut people up, out

i live in a replica fish bowl

where i am surrounded by alien clone fish

i've met their doppelgängers

and learned to hate them each

one by one

then left my fish bowl home

to meet their doubles

and learn hate

all over again

and it's funny when you think if you think if you dare if thinking is your thing if you don't fear

pain

it's funny,

i succumbed to this naive belief--

its clutches so cowardly beautiful

--that running by flying

away meant newness

newness in the smell of wind

newness in the shape of trees

newness in the people that people my dreams and people my inside and people i wish

i was

but even paradise has its parasites

complete with plastered smiles  

pity--shot out from every angle

side glances and ulterior messages,

dripping in its dense gooeyness that shouldn't but does make me feel like nothing

until all i am is a pile of the stuff--

and nothing i or you can do will make your kindness

not taste forced

"congratulations you changed the scenery

emptying pockets and filling expectations in the process

only to realize nowhere is new enough

to make people not people you know

to make hate not the spoiled result of you trying to love them

to make opening up not feel like a chasm awaiting daggers

to make you

not you"

i mumble this

in my skin every time i walk away

leaving you believing you've somehow helped

and you have

you've given me practice to learn how to please

how to shut people up

and out,

how to shut people out.

because i don't even like fish,

Victoria's Diary

By Late Night Writings

I’m a dramatic person and it does actually cause a lot of unnecessary problems, but I’m not going to change. Katy didn’t respond to my text yesterday. It was a question. Isn’t she terrible? I certainly think so. Darla didn’t like a tweet I posted last week. That’s the first time she hasn’t liked one of my tweets, since she started following me on Twitter five months ago. What kind of statement is she trying to make? I think she’s trying to say she’s better than me. Nobody is too good for my tweets, especially not Darla Peggy Pots. That’s right, her middle name is Peggy. Nobody can pull that one off. I know you might think these things sound stupid and I want you to know that I think they sound stupid, too. I used to get really hung up on how stupid this sort of stuff is. I’d get home from a date and immediately tell myself that “I made such a fucking mistake” because I didn’t get great vibes when he dropped me off. Vibes. Then I would get angry at myself for having that reaction. Then I would get upset with myself for getting angry at myself for having that reaction. It went in circles. Now, I just let myself feel my stupid feelings and I don’t get angry. I’m better for it. I throw a tantrum, cry, tell myself “I need to stop making these stupid fucking mistakes”, and then I get over it. Now that I don’t let myself get angry at myself for being irrational, I recover from irrationality a lot faster. I still know I’m an idiot, but I don’t get mad at myself for it. Being dramatic keeps me connected to my feelings. My many feelings. Well, I guess I don’t have a big variety of feelings. By “many feelings”, I mean I feel two or three things very often. Those would be disappointment, sadness, and frustration. That’s just me. I’ve accepted it. I still feel the other ones, for sure, but not as much. Just last week, I was real happy because I was getting the attention I needed. It sounds a bit pathetic, but people just need attention sometimes. That applies to everyone. The really pathetic part of it is that I felt like shit after because I felt bad for relying on other people to feel good about myself. Yeah, I think I need help. Anyway, I’m in-touch with my feelings. I get them. Obviously, I’m big on overthinking things and that helps me understand myself. I’ve tried a lot of things to get myself to be normal. Nothing sticks. Nothing ever sticks. Nobody ever sticks. Around. For long. Anyway, nothing sticks and I think I need to stop worrying about that. If I can’t change, I really need to stop trying to. What am I going to do to fix the problem? I’ll control it. I’m not going to get better. All I can do is keep myself in check. Know when I’m overreacting. Katy isn’t really terrible. She was busy and I knew she was busy. I also need to recognize when I’m one-hundred percent right. Darla is absolutely playing a game. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have told everyone about her fugly middle name. She’s not going to win this one. I know I’ll change in other ways. I might be more refined. I might be more confident. I might be more exciting. I won’t be changing in this way though. I will always be overly dramatic. I will always read too far into things and read too far into things that aren’t there. I’m never going to process my emotions in a normal way. This is me. I’m not perfect. I’m not amazing. I’m fine.