I went and sat
in a cemetery
today.
It was nice
and peaceful
and the grass was cold
and wet
and felt like my cats’
noses.
It didn’t feel like
my best friends’
cats’ noses
or any of the cats
I work with at the animal hospital’s
wet noses.
Just my cats’ wet noses
which made it feel
really homey and nice
there
in the cemetery.
I didn’t go to the cemetery
to visit anyone
or anything.
I just went there because
I had this invisible
party hat
on my head
but instead of actually looking like
a party hat
the invisible party hat
just looked like
an old, gross toilet brush
on top of my head.
I went there because
I had this old, gross
invisible toilet brush
on top of my head
when I was supposed to have
a regular looking,
invisible party hat
on top of my head.
I went there because
everyone else in the world
had regular looking,
invisible party hats
on top of their heads
and I was tired
of looking at them
and their stupid,
regular looking,
invisible party hats
and I just couldn’t get
far enough away
from them.
I was just so
sick to death
of people.
I just soooo
couldn’t take the sight of them
and their regular looking,
invisible party hats
anymore
so I thought,
What’s the opposite
of people?
and then I answered
myself with,
Dead people?
so I just drove
to the cemetery
and got out
and sat down
near some tombstone
and chilled there
on my cats’ wet noses.
I sat there and felt
all of the bones
under the ground
beneath me.
I wanted to dig them
all up
and build a cabin
made outta the bones
and then live inside that cabin
forever and ever
and finally be safe
from the world full of people
with their stupid,
regular looking,
invisible party hats
on top of their heads.
That seemed like
a lotta work though
so then I just felt like
simply murdering
every single person
on the planet
and doing so
with the same kinda
plastic fork
that they give you
whenever you order a salad
at McDonald’s.
Every single person…
One by one…
All of them
painstakingly and slowly
stabbed to death
with a plastic fork…
It just felt
right.
It just felt
good.
It just felt like
the only solution
even though it felt like
even more work than
making a cabin
made outta
dead people’s bones.
Then
wanting to murder everyone
in the whole, entire world
made me begin to wonder
how different I was
from the kinda person
who goes into a school
and shoots up a bunch
of innocent kids
but then I realized
I’m totally different
from that kinda person
because a school full
of innocent kids
wouldn’t have been
nearly enough.
It had to be everyone
in the entire world
because that was how
unhuman
I felt.
I wanted people
to go extinct
just so I could be alone
and
therefore
just so I could become
what’s normal
and maybe
just for once
not finally feel
so scared and different
from everyone else
because everyone else
would be extinct
and there would be no one else
to feel different from
but only
to most likely
and eventually realize
anyways
that I still felt
scared and different
regardless
and
what’s worse
that I killed
the whole, entire world
just to find out
that I’m so broken
that I still feel scared
and different
even though people
were now extinct
like dinosaurs.
I sat there in the cemetery
and felt like I wouldn’t be safe
from the world
and that the world
wouldn’t be safe from me
until I was living
in a cabin
made outta dead people’s
bones
because I felt that
fuckin’ broken.
Then I realized
the main reason
I wanted a pretty girl
in my life
that I could date
wasn’t because
I felt lonely
but was just because
I wanted one of them
to validate the fact
with their prettiness
that I wasn’t broken
and that I was human
because that’s what
humans do.
Humans date
other humans,
right?
So if a human
were to date me
that would mean
that I was human too,
right?
But girls dating me
never lasted
anyways
and after it never lasted
it always hurt so much
because it just seemed
to prove the fact
that I wasn’t human
after all
and that maybe my heart
was just some alien
and my body
was just some robot
that my heart-alien
was controlling.
I felt like that
was very plausible.
I sat there in the cemetery
and stared at the name
Anna Wilkins
on the tombstone
in front of me
and felt like
she never woulda been able
to love me
either
and that my heart
being some alien
and that my body
being some robot
that the heart-alien controlled
was a very, very
plausible scenario.
I felt it was all
very plausible
because of certain situations
I had experienced
in my life
that I couldn’t understand.
Situations
like whenever I saw people
smile at babies.
Whenever I saw people
smile at babies
I was always just all like,
What the fuck?
I don’t get it.
I don’t get
what these people
are so happy about.
What’s wrong with
them?
Ugh…
Seriously…
Like
what the fuck
is their problem?
And I never understood
other situations
either
like waving to people
or striking up conversations
with strangers
or laughter.
Laughter
always seemed like
a good idea
and it always seemed like
it would be fun
like that that game
at the carnival
where you squirt water
into a clown’s mouth
with a water pistol
but still
even though
it seemed like a lotta fun
I was always
so weary
and skeptical
to try it
even though I wasn’t too sure
why
I was so weary
and skeptical
to try it.
I just was.
I was skeptical
and weary
so I just sat there
in the cemetery
and contemplated
ripping my eyes out
just so
for once
I could finally see things
differently
even though I’d be
seeing nothing
at all.
But still
seeing nothing at all
seemed better
than how I was seeing things
at the moment
because all I saw
at that moment
was the grim, dwindling hope
that somehow
these days were the days
I was gonna miss
when I was an old fart
who had nothing left
to fight for
and nothing left to do
except wait for Death
and hope that my party hat
didn’t look like a dirty
toilet brush
when Death showed up
because having a regular looking,
invisible party hat
on your head
when Death arrived
was how you
won,
having a regular looking,
invisible party hat
on your head
when Death arrived
was how you said,
“Fuck you, Death.
I won, asshole.
Go ahead,
take me away,
bitch.
I’m ready.”
That was all
I wanted.
That was all
anyone
ever wanted.
But it just seemed
so impossible.
It just seemed
so unreachable.
But maybe
it was supposed to.
And maybe
sitting in a cemetery
all alone
wasn’t a totally
balls-crazy
kinda thing to do.
Maybe geniuses
weren’t people
who found ways
to make their invisible,
toilet brush party hats
look like
regular-looking,
invisible party hats.
Maybe geniuses
were just people
who enjoyed life
and accepted it
for what little
it had to offer
therefore
keeping the regular looking,
invisible party hats
on top of
their heads
or
in the other case
learning to love
the invisible toilet brushes
on top of
their heads
and therefore
eventually turning them into
“regular looking,
invisible party hats”
by the time
Death arrived.
Maybe genius
was just a form
of acceptance.
Maybe
all you had to do
to make it
to the final level
of the video game
that was life
was to continually lie
to yourself.
I wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t sure
at all
so I just sat there
in the cemetery
on my cats’
cold wet noses
and listened to the rain
fall
even though rain
wasn’t actually falling
and wondered
if that was the case
or not
and if it was
that was okay.
I never really
wanted to be a genius
anyway…
© Calvero 2013
poetry by Calvero 