german poundcake

an old poem I found




I cooked German poundcake last night
instead of studying for the two tests
I'm going to fail today,
with honor.
Her favorite comfort food
to help soak up the vodka in my mother's
gastric juices.
More like spongecake
I guess.
I'll put some candles on it tonight
I considered a morbid black,
but settled on
White.

A Happy Death for the
Birthday Ghost.
Maybe it's too much like
living in the past or being in denial
But she asked me to,
Something to accent the two balloons
for the turtle pond I think.

Today will be one of those days-
constant indigestion
with a mouth sore from getting too impatient and
burning myself,
I keep tonguing it and
pretending there is no irony attached.
She's already flitting around, busy tasks,
expending nervous energy
and then there is this sinking
Like the childhood dismay of watching the last of the warm bathwater
swirl down the drain or
Waiting until the last minute until suddenly
there are none left.

Last night I dreamed of spontaneous disco dance contests
after being rained on,
being hunted on the playground,
trying to hide from the afro-man with closed eyes
while the audience watches knowingly.
It's an epic playscape, and I'm quick like a pixie
but even with shut lids he finds me every time,
typical.
Needless to say
I was disappointed,
in myself and in my subconscious
for giving me such shitty lingering sensations upon waking;
trying so hard to live up to expectations
and leave some sort of impression,
Like every pursuit is a contest.
So pale in comparison to
past nocturnal themes
that I wish I had stayed up all night studying
like I used to do when I gave a damn about school. Sort of.


Maybe then I could have aced this German test
and given her a reason to smile at me from oblivion.