I know someone is there

with their eyes fixated on a knife

wondering, pondering, remembering

those times when they were young

those times when things didn’t seem so hopeless

and when the light wasn’t consumed by the abyss,

continuously playing a game of chess

inside of their own heads.

I know someone is there

reminiscing the faded hand of another,

recalling the smell of a dusty attic

feeling the fur on a favorite pet 

who has long since passed away

seeing the trees grow in matter of seconds

just to see them rot and die.

I know someone is there

because I can feel their hands shaking

because I can feel them trembling

inside of the walls at night.

I know someone is there

because their ghost is right beside me

crawling into my ear

creeping into my brain

consuming my mind with darkness,

and as I lay on the floor

staring into that knife

I smile for the simple fact

that they’re aware of me too.

- Thomas Francis Malley

I’m sure that some day

everything will become balance

and these scales that you

continuously have to adjust

will finally level themselves out.

And at some point you’ll open your eyes

and all those phantoms and revenants

that once manifested your dreams 

will be replaced with fields of flowers and

foxes with their kits leaping over your head

as you lie down and watch the blue sky pass.

Everyone else seems to be waiting for something, 

some sort of final conclusion or a great war to happen

but me, I’m staring at the stars waiting for the foxes,

the blue skies and for the day I can finally breathe.

- Thom Malley

I lost track of who I was and where

I was supposed to end up years ago,  

because that truly means nothing in this world.

I’ll eventually die and so will you,

both of us will be the same 

buried and being eaten away

or burnt to crisp so our lovers or family

can do as they please with the remains.

Not caring has done me fine but what afflicts me is 

The persistent bothersome notion

that everything will remain and

everything will stay right where it is

even though I so desperately want it to fucking move.

I fall asleep with this pain, and when I wake

it is still there waiting for me like a damn vulture. 

The constant thought of never having a thought again

or no longer being burdened by a memory

that makes you so ill you can’t move,

to me it sounds beautiful like a yellow bird’s 

symphonic melodies as it flies by your head

or the last gun fired.

-Thom Malley

Your life starts to fall apart…

once you’re separated from your cat.

-Thom Malley

“Just like Brautigan’s hope,

just like Johnston’s mind,

just like the gods from the story of Ragnarok

or exactly like her…

which ever way, I’ll be ready

clenched fist staring down god

or the devil.”

-Thom Malley

The sound of talking, where you

can’t make out any of the words

that are surrounding your ears.

The smell that seems so familiar 

that you can recall the flower

that you picked for her that

one day in April all those years ago.

The vision that you can hardly focus on

because your mind is miles away thinking

of that long drive you took to Maine 

with your mother as she puffed away at her Misty…

Where you are is nowhere

but sometimes being nowhere 

has this way of making you feel at ease

whether you rather be there or not.

…and I swear I can still smell her cigarette.

-Thom Malley

I sit here with this bottle

with only four days until my 21st birthday

and I now rest my head inside of the house

that I was raised in until I was 12.

The same house where my sister 

forgot all about her little brother,

the same house that my father drank

and drank until the memory of my mother

became nothing but a fever dream.

The house that had more animals 

than I could count on 4 maybe 5 hands.

The house that once had our family pictures,

but now is filled with a family that isn’t ours.

Even when I look outside I remember when 

we we’re young micahel,

when we we’re supposed to be millionaires

for finding that dog skull

that we mistook for a dinosaur. 

When your fingers were stained with cheetos,

and my eyes were red from the thought of you leaving.

I write this for you

and to the only other person 

who could ever understand

these feelings that I have,

my mother who was forced away from me

when I was 12 to the stress

that her family put onto her.

And as much as I miss her

I am glad that she is not here

to see the disappointment

that I’ve become. 

Whenever I open my eyes I see it

that hope that I once had,

that determination that has faded away.

The time when everything seemed so far away

but here I sit, nearly ten years later

with this bottle wondering

why am I so fucking blind 

to the hopefulness that surrounds me.

November 11, 2011 [Thomas Malley]