April 2010
1 post
pseudo-interview
X Magazine: Do you have a girlfriend?
Elijah D.: Yes. She won’t let me have sex with her.
X Magazine: Oh? Why?
Elijah D.: She’s celibate and i’m horny as fuck. Haha.
Elijah D.: She’s tiny though; i don’t think i’d fit in her.
January 2010
10 posts
the doll pranced around her apartment
wearing her goth lolita and ballerina dresses
and big black hair bows
and pink ribbons around her wrists.
the monster was invited over for dinner that night
it was dark and rainy
and the lightening illuminated the dark apartment,
black and blue shadows flickered
as the lightening flashed.
the doll smoothed down her high collared
Victorian dress
as...
she sat next to me on the train the next evening.
she smiled at me.
the blood instantly rushed.
that night i took my dreams further.
i dreamt she was in pink lacy underwear
8.
i took myself to a restaurant
i ate potato soup
and bread and butter
i fantasized about the young girl on the train
7.
i didn’t go to bed that night.
at 3:00 in the morning,
i finally touched myself
to sleep.
6.
i see her on the train again.
she’s sitting diagonally from me, a few seats over.
her hair is pulled up in a loose bun,
a few dark blonde strands out of place.
she’s chewing gum
and reading a book/
her lips are stained with pink.
i noticed the bags under her eyes
but they only make her look
more beautiful,
more distant.
//
that night i dreamt of her.
i dreamt of...
5.
i settled into bed that night.
the silence of the apartment
depresses me.
i call my mother,
but she’s away- at a party,
applying and living happily as she should be.
4.
today on the train i saw
someone unconventionally beautiful.
she looked young.
she sat beside me.
there was a light purple bow in her hair
and she appeared to be in ballet clothes,
her long slender legs in pale pink tights.
she smelled of raspberries.
her eyes were closed.
3.
i wish i could meet someone
utterly and unconventionally beautiful,
who would wake with me in bed.
2.
i make myself potato soup with bread and butter
and study for my class
as i listen to music.
afterward, i undress and settle into bed-
the silence reminds me how alone i am.
i don’t know how to apply myself.
1.
on the train is where i think.
about how my day went and
if i would be satisfied if i were to die now,
‘though i am usually never satisfied,
what i will do when i get home,
why i am so tired,
this train is always so damn cold.
August 2009
1 post
if someone says hi to me
then it is a miracle
July 2009
1 post
heavy breathing
you smoke in the stairway you sleep in a coma you drink alcohol while watching dim sum you breathe heavily next to me you smell like cigarettes and tree soap you wish you could play the cello i wish you wouldn’t pass out you wish i wasn’t so thin you wish we could be out all night; eating like birds in Chinatown, smoking and laughing and drinking with dark circles under our eyes, our...
June 2009
16 posts
//
on sunday, the doll agreed to eating out with the monster and the bat they ordered pizza and salad to share she took small bites, analyzing the food as if it were some strange substance after they were finished, the monster asked, “how do you feel?” she thought a while “i think i am okay” the next day, she wore a rubber band around her wrist to snap herself ...
often the doll would come over at night and watch japanese horror films with the monster and the bat “before i die, i want lots of parties and fornication” the doll had said one night the monster raised his eyebrow, he always raises his eyebrow, the bat laughed and kissed her on the forehead
// she purged something hot he felt helpless “i’m sorry” she said “yeah, me too” she smiled then “don’t worry, i’ll be here for a while this disease will take a while before it kills me”
//
the monster lived in an apartment, that was small and dark, downtown with his roommate, the bat the bat slept all day and watched horror films...
//
one day, ravished, the doll scarfed down the entire contents of her fridge, inhaling everything and anything that her small hands could touch afterward, the doll cried she called the monster and asked him to come over “what’s wrong?” he asked, when she let him in her apartment “i’m scared” she replied, still crying “what are you scared...
// they met back at the coffee shop with many questions but refrained from the inundation of questions and decided to take a walk to the park people stared at them what an odd couple, people thought one is so big, the other so small he could crush the poor thing! the doll frowned, for she was able to tell what they were thinking just from their expressions “why do people think i am...
there once lived a monster and a doll they met at a coffee shop; the doll was drinking water and words by the window and the monster was scarfing down a chicken sandwich and a brownie she caught his eye; she was so, well, doll-like, with big doe eyes the color of caramel and long eyelashes and bright blonde hair that was almost white she was tiny and short the monster hadn’t realized that...
you know me too well/you don't know me enough
“i know you said not to call you,
but i wouldn’t call you unless it’s an emergency”
“…go on.”
“i have a knife in my hand. give me two good reasons why i shouldn’t kill myself right now.”
“i don’t have two good reasons.”
“do you want me to die?”
“no.”
“do you care about me?”
...
we will be each other’s suicides;
you will overdose
because you can’t handle water
in your lungs
and i will suffocate myself
for you
because they told me
walking into a car
hurts
if you were to die on the way home,
would you burn in hell?
would you be living?
are you alone?
are you okay with this?
i know a girl
who says “oh” and “quite” and “well” a lot
and who swears in her head
and twitches in her sleep
and watches death note anime in the dark
and comments to her friend on msn messenger about it
but he replies irrelevantly
and says things like “i was a tree today”
but she’s used to this
she wears pink frilly dresses
i like how,
behind your wide-eyed, doll-like and dumb facade,
you are horridly morbid
and obsessed
with suicide
and serial killers
do you feel my irregular heartbeat
when you touch my bones
beneath my skin?
i am starting to severely dislike food
and the process of eating food
brain sends neurons to signal movement in hand
hand puts food in mouth
salivary glands are activated
chew chew swallow
down the esophagus
oh, it’s blocked in the arteries
heart attack
false alarm,
down to the stomach
digestion
brain sends neurons to signal movement in hand
hand goes down throat
muscles...
my breath tastes
like hot acid
i want to sleep-
with his beating pulse,
his ribs mark the scars
where i plant my lips,
and where you bleed
for me,
dear
May 2009
43 posts
1.
today i am going to do something
that i will probably regret
and i will commit suicide
afterwards
and i will die with a smile on my face
because i will do something awful
and i will be dead
and no one can convict me
only posthumously.
2.
john drove us to alex’s convenience store,
who would later be my accessory after the fact.
I walked inside with my gun i stole
in my green jacket
and i walked to the back of the store
to get some sprite
because i was really thirsty and honestly nervous.
I drank it and yelled i’d pay for it,
because i knew the owner alex
and i didn’t want him to think
i was stealing.
i heard the bell to the...
3.
john nodded at me and i walked up to the register
to alex.
“hey alex.” i said,
putting my $1.29 on the counter for the soda.
“don’t move.” i said,
beginning to sound cliché.
alex lifted an eyebrow.
i lifted my gun.
“this is a holdup.” i said meekly.
alex stared at me for awhile and said finally,
“ben, don’tdothiswhyareyoudoingthisthisisstupidputthegundown.”
john kept nodding at me and...
“come on home, the poppies are all grown
knee-deep by now.
blossoms all have fallen,
and the pollen ruins the plow.
peonies nod in the breeze and while they wetly bow,
with hydrocephalitic listlessness
ants mop up their brow.”
30.
i went to bed,
woke up,
showered,
took my medication,
went to work Wednesday through Sunday.
grieve, grieve, grieve.
i did this everyday
while sinking deeper
into my own
mental illness.
29.
she committed suicide in the bathroom
___
i drove to her house,
knocked on her door
come in, forest.
he brought over oreos
and soda to the table.
“how are you holding up?”i asked.
i looked around the house.
the dishes were done,
the trash needed to be taken out,
the house felt depressed
and metallic
in general.
he sighed and put his head down on the table.
“she’s gone.” he said, his voice muffled.
“i know.”
he put his head up.
“you...
28.
maja and i spent the evening
in my bed
listening to music:
explosions in the sky
and antennas to heaven
and sigur ros.
we lay beside each other,
facing each other,
touching each other.
i have become
desperately attached.
26.5
we slow danced.
i touched her face and hair.
she touched mine.
we sat on the floor
and smoked
while listening to some
rock and roll,
specifically buddy holly
and ritchie valens.
27.
after i came home from work,
i invited maja to the stores.
i needed to buy new headphones.
we tried the large over the ear ones
and danced to little pictures
in the record store.
she pulled me into a
vintage store
and tried on dresses
and fake gold rings
that i bought for her.
then we went into a café
and took polaroids
of ourselves
and our pastries.
26.
i actually picked up the phone
and called her to say,
“maja, perhaps it wasn’t nice
to leave you there half naked,
but i felt like i was put
in an uncomfortable situation.”
“i’m sorry, i don’t know
what came over me.”
silence.
“well, can we still hang out?” she asked.
“i don’t think what we do
is classified as ‘hanging out.’”
“then what are we doing?”
“being.”
“ah. then can we still be?”
“we...
25.5
she led me to her bedroom.
i could feel her father
watch me warily.
“leave the door open,” he said.
lining her wall by her bed
were 4 large vintage dollhouses,
with beautiful porcelain dolls.
there was on dollhouse
that was larger than the other others
with 4 floors,
frosty windows that glowed.
fake snow surrounded all of the dollhouses.
i gaped at them in awe.
“oh… these are...
24.
i need socks.
just some plain white socks,
the long ones.
i will ask my mum
to buy me some socks.
25.
i woke up this morning
and turned the tv on
and stood in front of it,
as if in a catatonic state.
i did not move for 15 minutes.
i finally willed myself to move
and i took my medication
and i practised my French
out loud.
i went to my computer
and onto gmail,
you have one new message.
it was from maja.
she has invited me to her house.
sure.
23.
it was a relatively mild day out,
so i invited maja
to the forest area behind my house.
the property was over 5 acres,
there was grass and trees
and emptiness for miles.
i took a few polaroids
of the trees,
maja’s golden brown hair,
her pale dress,
and lace tights,
the grass,
the house,
the breeze,
the stillness.
we lay beside each other,
not speaking,
just breathing
and being.
20.
my mother was glad
that i was finally getting out of the house.
“invite your friend over for dinner,”
she said.
so i did.
it wasn’t as awkward
as i thought it would be.
my mother asked most of the questions, like,
“how old are you,
how is school?
do your parents know that
your friend is 22?”
to those, maja replied:
“16,
school doesn’t change for me,
well, i haven’t told my dad.
i didn’t think...
21.
maja and i would
often go to the library on Saturday evenings
after work.
we would sit in the back,
where there was the dimmest lighting
and the windows.
we kept each other’s
silent company.
the only thing heard
was the flipping of ancient pages
and the occasional dry cough.
22.
i received a lecture
from my parents today.
“what is going to happen
when we die?
how will you support yourself?”
i am waiting for them to say,
“get a real job,
a job that pays by salary.”
i said, “i’m a failure,
i will never make more
than 100 krone a month.”
“oh grow up forest,”
my dad said,
“you’re the most whiny kid
i know.”
i laughed.
19.
maja came over almost every day.
it was nice to have
someone else to talk to,
to have a friend.
we walked around downtown often,
she would buy us drinks,
for i usually never carried money
with me.
we were close,
but distant.
we still didn’t know much
about each other.
we tried to avoid asking
‘getting to know you questions.’
i don’t know her,
she doesn’t know me,
that’s okay.