Figments in Ibiza

I’d like to say I’m back, but let’s be honest…

Figments in Ibiza
JCD Kerwin

I could have been
in laser lights, magnified
by my own
euphoria.

I could have
measured my worth
by punches,
not by sad songs
echoing late at night.

(And I bet
my PF Flyers would
have worn out long before
the brown
from my eyes.)

I could have been a hero;
Instead, I play pretend:
I make paper beds
and in my head,
these pencil sticks
are cigarettes,
and with these pens,
I slay regrets
like I’m a knight
in forever armor.

But I’m nothing but a dreamer,
and I feel a little weaker
while I keep reaching
in garbage cans
for stars.

I could have been
invincible
if I wanted:
just let go a roar and
watch my breath
move mountains.

I could have been…
but I ended up like this.

(September 2016)

Angel With The Robotic Arms

Shitty Fact #2,847,942: I’m not the only unique starfish in the sea; there are many people who want to be a professional writer, a famous author. And we each think we’re the special one. We each think we’re the prettiest fucking raindrop gracing the earth with our presence. Doesn’t matter. We all fall into the same ocean. We all drown with each other. I’m not unique, creative, or the next Great American Author. I’m just another desperate bipolar schizophrenic with a pen.

Unrelated but related side-note: I finished a short story for NaNoWriMo. I was pretty excited when I started it, but by the end I realized it’s a piece of shit. And not because it hasn’t been edited. It’s just plain shit….It is an odd, out-of-body experience to read your own work and see it for what it truly is…

#woeisme #idon’tcarethati’mwhining #nowiwanttowatchmetropolisforsomereason #thisisnothowyouusehashtags

Angel with the Robotic Arms
JCD Kerwin

we’re all just broken ‘bots
that walk
in sad, grey lines,
in time
with each other.
but with each new tick
and metallic tock
of the Doomsday Clock,
we’re pulled off shelves
and bought,
second-chance
from second-hand
shops. we’ve got
no regrets except
that we gave up on ourselves
long before this world.

(Dec. 2014)

ruMble junglE

ruMble junglE
JCD Kerwin

I like spaceships and caffeine
and I have no idea
what “normal” means.

I laugh at puns,
and think we’re overrun
with assholes.

My baseball hat
is part of my act
to be someone I am not.

Airplanes give me panic breath,
I always fear dark water depths,
and crowds make me very
nervous.

I can’t live without blasting
my ears full of tunes
because I think music,
can save me.

And if I may,
I feel the rain
is worth a hellavua lot more
than to ignore
with umbrellas.

I don’t think it’s wrong
to act along
with my favorite cartoons.

I’m quiet on the outside
but inside I hide
thunderstorms.

I hate talking on phones
and sometimes I want
to be left all alone.

I think maybe books
are the closest to Heaven
that I’ll ever be.

I always fear
what tomorrow brings,
but I still want to know
what’s around every corner.

I’m friends with monsters
hiding under my bed and
deep in my head,
calling to me in low whispers.

The light in the hall
is the only thing keeping
this dark world from creeping
into my heart.

I’d like to swing from stars,
and I often wonder
if Ray is happy on Mars.

I’m sure I dream too much
(I know there’s no such
thing as magic),

but maybe somehow, someday,
I’ll build a spaceship, and
sail far away.

(October 2014)

heart palpitations

Once upon a time I went through all these tests just to have this doc. say my arrhythmia is “normal.”…

heart palpitations
jcd kerwin

i think
my second cup
of coffee is
flavored with
abjection.
it reflects my thoughts and
the listless thumping of
my heart.

blasting tunes
is useless and
all these books
just make me hurt
for things that can’t be true.
i daydream instead;
i live in my head
to keep from drowning in
this world.

yet, there’s no running,
no hiding from
the faces and places
of my nightmares.
this caffeine only succeeds
in vanishing
anyway.

(October 2014)