clear cut corners

on the road again @snapshotsteve

—

life used to have clear cut corners
and it was colored-in proper,
with familiar shapes
and a brick road with our deaths
at the end of it.

then you fucked it up,
and now i’m walking in a fog;
the colors have smudged into blacks and greys,
the lack feels great,
i have no interest in what’s in front of me.

the road to death is growing closer.
i’ll start jogging,
maybe i’ll run into someone special,
or maybe i’ll fall into a hole
that smells like bitter beers
and back aches.
maybe the hole’s so deep
that my back breaks,
and i have to get used to looking up
instead of looking at what’s ahead of me.

i’ve been walking towards death all this time,
but when i look up all i see is life.
no one’s ever told me i couldn’t fly
and if they ever did,
i’m sure they’d just want someone
to hold their hand while they
walked on fog-patterned bricks
to death.

life used to have clear cut corners,
then you fucked it up
and now i can fly.

—

“clear cut corners”
©Steven Cuenca

2017

one of the happy bits, @snapshotsteve

—

2017 started with
dancing drunk.
she and i were broken up and faking it,
at least she was.

the ball dropped–
on my fucking face

what a start, what a start

i cried in my mother’s arms
my brother’s arms
my puppies’s paws
i cried playing video games
i cried to the musix

doo doo doo so sad so sad la la la so sad

2017 eased up on me a little
gave me a car in my name
a job
and a new best friend.
it gave me rhythmic thoughts
and the drive to translate them.
it gave me some of my favorite memories
in this life,

thank you ’17!

’17 figured it could fuck the sad out of me
13 different attempts to be specific,
i don’t remember half their names;
trying to medicate with ha ha has
and hoe hoe hotels.

self-destructive and selfish

2017 had a lot of funny jokes, like:
CRANBERRY JUICE CANNOT CURE
YOUR CHLAMYDIA

a shot and a pill did

you were the last person i got sick.
i felt so bad, i figured i’d go celibate
for the rest of my life,
but you never left my side
and I don’t know why,
but here you are, 3 months later.

my last gift from ’17

—

“2017”
©Steven Cuenca