Thanks so much to the Boston Poetry Magazine!

Boston Poetry Magazine

by Calvero


I had just left
the liquor store
with a bag
full of booze.

I was walking
back to my car
and every footstep
I took
sounded like me
openly admitting
that I hated the world.

I looked up
at the sky.

It was blue
and full of white clouds
and looked pretty
in the sense
that it looked very much
like the kinda sky
that was capable
of raining a single sombrero
from it.

That would be
cool…
I thought.

I pictured
a single sombrero
raining down from the sky
and landing perfectly
on my head
and then I smiled.
I wanted that
to happen.

I wanted a single sombrero
to rain down from the sky
and land on my head
and have no explanation
as to why it fell
and just be so amazed
that it did fall
and not only
that it did fall
but by…

View original post 620 more words

I sat in Dunkin Donuts
one day.

It was really packed
inside
which made me feel
really lonely
for some reason.

I tried to ignore
my loneliness
by looking out the window
and up at the sky
or lack thereof.

The sky had been gray
for, 
    like,
the past seven days
straight. 

The sky
didn’t even look like
it was there.

It looked like the sky
had just up
and left
or something.

The sky looked like
a dad who
went to the corner store
for a pack of cigarettes
and just never came back
leaving me to wonder
if it was my fault.

Was it my fault
the sky had been gone
for the past week?

Did it just get tired
of hanging over
someone
that was so unappreciative
of the nice, summery-looking 
days
it helped create?

Someone so unappreciative
of life in general
and someone
so hung up
on his own problems
that he just ignored
everyone and everything
else around him?

    Fuck… 
I thought.

It was me… 

I totally made
the sky
run away
because I wasn’t good enough
for him.

It was my fault
he had run away
and I was absolutely
certain of that
and that made me feel
really bad
and also like I had
to do something 
about it
too.

Fill in for the sky
while it’s gone,
    I told myself.

It was
an idea.

Do it.
You have to.
    Plus,
        in high school,
you were voted most likely
to become the sky
one day… 

I dunno why
I told myself that
though.

That wasn’t true
at all.

I couldn’t back
that up.

I think I just told
myself that
to help convince myself
to replace the sky
because I knew I had to
but because I was scared to
too.

It worked
though… 

I went home
and put on this bright blue
sweatsuit
that I got for a Christmas gift
but that I never wore
because of how butt-ugly
it was
and then I built
a big-ass stair case
up to where the sky
used to be
and jumped in.

I stuck
to where the sky
used to be
like someone in a velcro suit
sticking to a velcro wall
and then I just hung there
and tried to look like
the sky.

I didn’t feel like
I was very good
at looking like the sky
though… 

I didn’t cover
nearly as much territory
as the sky did
so I just stretched myself out
as far as I could
and tried my best.

Then I realized
I didn’t have any clouds
going
either
so I told myself
little, white lies
and then the little, white lies
became my clouds.

    You’re doing great,
I told myself.

POOF!
    Cloud… 

    You’re a real natural
at this whole
cloud business. 

POOF!
    Cloud… 

    Don’t worry.
The sky will be back
soon.

POOF!
    Cloud… 

I felt lonely
up in the sky
but it was a nice
kinda loneliness.

It was nice because
I was finally all alone
and felt lonely
instead of being surrounded
by people
and feeling lonely.

I felt like
I was finally synced up
with loneliness
and what it was actually
supposed to be.

It was funny… 

I was a half-assed,
shitty excuse
for sky 
instead of a half-assed
shitty excuse
for a human
like I normally was
but yet 
    somehow 
I felt more human
than I ever had
hanging up there
where the sky 
was supposed to be
instead of back down 
on earth.

It was like
I had to become
a half-assed, shitty excuse
for a sky
wearing a tacky, bright blue
sweatsuit
constantly telling myself
little, white lies
in order to finally
feel human.

Then I wondered 
    why 
lying to yourself 
felt like such 
an essential part 
of being human.

It just didn’t seem
right

    or even
worth it.

Not even
a little bit

    but regardless
I still did it
for some reason
anyway

and just hung high
above the world
and high above 
the humans in that world
and finally
    being so far away
    from them
felt like
one of them.

It was awesome.

So awesome
I never wanted
to leave.

I wanted to hang
above the world
and feel nicely lonely
and nicely human 
forever.

Then the sky
returned.

    “Dude,”
the sky said.
    “What the fuck
are you doing?”

“Oh… 
    I thought
I scared you away
so I was just filling in
for you.”

    “You idiot.
Me going away
is what overcast
really means.
What?
    Just because
I’m the sky
doesn’t mean I deserve
a break or vacation
now and then?
    Huh?
        Is that it?”

The sky
was a douche… 

I mean,
    you imagine
meeting the sky
and it being really nice
and amiable
but he soooooo
wasn’t.
    He was just
a douche.

“Alright,
    get the hell outta here, 
kid.
    Come on,
        beat it…”
the sky said.

I unstuck myself,
collected my clouds,
ate them
and then climbed back down
the stairs I had built
and went back to
Dunkin Donuts
because
    honestly
I didn’t know where else
to go.

It was still packed there
inside of Dunkin Donuts
and it being packed
made me feel
really lonely
and not human
again.

I looked up
at the sky
through the window.

    Sure
he was pretty
but he was also
a really big douche
and I hated him
because he was the sky
and most likely felt human
even though he wasn’t
    and I was human
and definitely didn’t feel
human.

At least not
anymore.

Ungrateful douche,
    I thought
in regards to the sky.

He had no idea
what kinda kick-ass job
he had somehow
lucked himself into
and I hated him
for it then.

I really hated him
for it
right then
and there.

Still do.

© Calvero 2013

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

Every time
I finish an iced coffee
there’s always this hidden patch
of sugar
laying in wait
at the bottom
    hiding underneath the ice
    like the sneaky-ass
    mother fucker it is
that I always accidentally
suck up
and that is so abnormally sweet
and that fucks up my taste buds
so good
that I always have to double check
and make sure
that one of your breasts
isn’t at the bottom
of the cup
and that my straw
isn’t somehow hooked
onto your nipple
and that I’m not sucking powdery milk
outta you.

I always think
I’m sucking powdery milk
outta one of your breasts
at the end
of every iced coffee
but
    unfortunately
I never am
and then I always get
a little bit sad
when I realize
I’m not.

I get sad
because it bitch slaps me
that I’m not tasting
you,

that I still don’t know
the taste of you

and also because
all of my iced coffee
is gone.

It sucks…

Finishing an iced coffee
always feels like three, swift kicks
in the nuts
and I really don’t know why
I still keep drinking
them
when I look at it
like that.

Maybe it’s because I feel like
one day
one of you breasts
will finally be
in the bottom
of my iced coffee cup.

Maybe it’s because
I can’t get over
the fact
that my first thought
is always
that I’m tasting    you
in the bottom
of my iced coffee cup
and not the sugar
that I know
is there.

I wanna suck milk
outta your nipples
in real life
so this way
I can burp up your taste
kinda like after I have
Taco Bell for lunch
and then I burp it up
and taste it
in my burp ups
for the rest of the day
    but it’d be ever cooler than that
    because I’d be burping up
        you
and even though I’ve
(sadly) never tasted you
I still somehow know
you taste even better
than Taco Bell.

I wanna put a speedo
on my cock
and then dip it inside you
the same way
a little kid
dips their foot into a pool
testing the temperature
of the water
and then say,
    “Ooooh!
        Just right!”
even though deep down
I already knew it’d be
just right.

(I think my penis
would look really cute
in a speedo
and doggie paddling
inside your vagina…)

I think I could love you
forever
because I know
I could never entirely
figure you out,

because I know
I could never fully unravel
your mystery.

Like I know
I could never solve
the mystery
as to why
every time I finish a cup
of iced coffee
that I think one of your breasts
is hiding
in the bottom.

I know
I could never understand
how you taste
even better than
Taco Bell.

I know
I could never understand
how perfect you feel
when my speedo-wearing penis
dips itself
inside of you.

I know
I could never solve
the mystery
as to why someone
like you
and with a heart like yours
is being subjected
the cold, constant
stares
of human beings
instead of living on some far off
distant planet
where everyone loves
as strongly
you do.

I know
I would never stop
being amazed by you.

There’s just too much
of you to discover
and only one lifetime
to figure it all out
with.

I wonder
if you ever suck on
a popsicle or something
and think you’re tasting
my wiener.

If you do
I hope the popsicle
is cherry.

Cherry popsicles
are the best.

I want my wiener
to taste the best
and not grape
or something.

Ugh… Grape.

Gross.

I’m handsome.

I know so
because my mom
tells me so.

My mom says
I’m the most handsome
guy
she knows.

She tells me constantly
and as nice
and flattering
as it all is
    I’ve gotta say
it’s never really
been enough.

The love of friends
and family
is like having
Cap’n Crunch
every night for dinner.

    Sure
it’s good
and it’s filling
if you have a lot
of it
and it will keep you
alive
and stuff
    but it will leave you
wanting pizza
or steak
or tacos.

It will leave you
wanting more.

It will leave you
wanting better
    and you know
there’s better
out there
because you’ve
tasted it,

because you’ve
tasted
the pizza-steak-tacos.

I want love
so great
it makes Nicholas Sparks
cream
in his pants.

I wanna fuck
the woman
of my dreams
on top of The Eiffel Tower
as the sun sets
    and I don’t mean
the top platform
either.

    Ohhhh no…

I mean
the needle-like thing
that diddles the sky’s
asshole.

I’m not sure
of the mechanics
of that
or how it would all work
exactly
but I’m pretty sure
the only thing better
than cumming
on the face
of the woman
of my dreams
is cumming
off the needle
of The Eiffel Tower
during sunset
and onto some poor bastard’s
head
down below.

    Haha,
that’d be awesome.

That would be
    really, really awesome
and I’m not going
to settle
for anything less
than that either
because settlers
are pussies.

    And to clarify
by “settlers”
I don’t mean
I mean people
who migrated to America
and colonized it
because they were
as tough
as balls.

I just mean
people who settle
and live their lives
without fire
because
fireless people
are sloppy,
wet,
dripping
pussies
and the last thing
I’d ever wanna be
is a sloppy,
wet,
dripping
pussy.

When I do
fuck
the woman
of my dreams
on the needle of
The Eiffel Tower
during sunset
and then cum
off the top
onto some poor bastard’s
head
down below
I hope that poor bastard
is a settler.

Then
after all that
I’ll probably go home
with the love
of my life
and we’ll nap
with our cats

    because as awesome
as that all sounds

it sure as fuck
sounds pretty
exhausting
too

but I guess
exhausted
is good.

Exhausted
means
you’re trying.

Exhausted
is a symptom
of fire.

© Calvero 2013