Didnt Realize

Self By Trial

Since I didn't have
The resolve to follow through
With who I'd love to be
or what I'd love to do,
I jumped at the chance to
Stumble Clumsily into you.
But I was committed to nothing,
Nothing but commitment itself.
I was a love conundrum,
And you were not.
So we were,
And so,
We were not.


I finally found a way
To tear my gaze away.
I read all day
In preparation.

My eyes blurred all kinds,
I was so used to type.

I smiled,
Without regard to if
It was returned.

I saw my


Smoke as a collage

Let This One Play Itself Out

Are you okay, he asks. His disbelieving stare reveals how tense he is. What's wrong with you? I say, pick up some girls on the bus. Except he can't see their faces, so he won't. I get their attention. Hey yo girls! The back of your head is ridiculous! I get their affection, but he still won't. flawless faces turn towards me. I Smile. I've bitten of more than I can chew, so I go for my gum, but I'm out.

So, I smoke.

Light finds my face through a window. I get out of the bed, and open a door. I hold up my picture, to show A man sitting at his crowded desk Have you seen the person in my image? He goes a bit stiff, so I offer my smokes. I only had 2 left, could he share with the woman, gasping on her bed. Their heads mechanically turn towards me. She says, you know we don't..

So, I smoke.

In a bustling courtyard, I doubt my intuition. I feel an increasing number of eyes on my back. I rotate my head, disturbing my meditation. From the corner of my eye, people. They look at me with their mouths open. Above me, a box of paint, on the ground. I wonder how that got there. I wonder how I got here. I plant my other hand beside the box. Everything is covered in rainbow specks. Those that watched seem to scramble in their pockets. I rise to my feet as a camera flashes. I become suddenly very uncomfortable.

So, I smoke.

Dazed, I grab my backpack, but leave the broken glider. I walk towards a big white house. That felt... I can't quite seem to.. Wait! I'm looking for that guy. That seems to comes back, but I can't grasp it. I'm planning them a surprise. I try to think of what that is. I can't quite remember..

so, I smoke.

The skate park is locked. I knock. The woman opens the window. Get my ass in there before somebody calls the cops. She takes me upstairs. A face contorts in fear, looking at me, the person in my image. You do exist, he spits, I'm not crazy. He tries to process what is happening. What is happening? He says, Everyone thinks I did that! I almost thought I did, somehow, I couldn't believe it, but who would've believed this?? But I'm not Crazy! Because you Do exist! I feel a bit nauseous,

So, I smoke.

I'm on a train, and I feel content for the first time in.. Ages. Somehow it slips away exactly who, but I had mistaken who I was, or my identity.. An intense and slow surge in my gut, like I'm at the start of something wild. Suddenly the thought, My cycle is nearing it's beginning. Where did that come from? Was I not just worried about.. Something? I take a big breath, and decide to just let this one just play itself out. As I drift into the dreary country-scape, I feel something in my pocket. It's a picture... A picture of me? I cover it up, but a pair of eyes finds mine from the front of my car. She knows I saw her looking, and she licks her lips just a touch. Making her way to my seat, swinging her hips ever so slightly, in an irresistable fashion. She stops next to my row, looking expectantly. I still make her work for it. That seat's taken. She studies me queitly for a moment, then laments, you don't smoke, do you? I feel for a pack in my pocket, but when I look up, she's gone into thin air. It makes me feel like I want a cigarette to smoke,

So I don't.

Madness as a collage


Ever here, it's
Never not.
Life is ever
A never knot

Everything accounts for nothing,
Because Nothing does not.

Nothing is boring
to those with an interest
In the interconnectedness
Of evanescent impediments.
Which may mean nothing to you,
As it does to me.

I am a contradiction,
You are a knot.
So are we,
Or are we not?

Madness as a collage

"Nothing lasts, But nothing is lost"
-William Blake

"Everything is nothing,
With a twist"
-Kurt Vonnegut

©2018 Corey Boiko