3 Things My Hands Did



This is not a panic attack, but it kinda is

February is cold
no matter where you are.
March is an open wound.
Say that your blood’s path is set like veins,
pretend it is not free form.
By April, the wind pushes back all your happiness,
leaves it months ahead, waiting for you.
May is all band-aids and broken teeth,
just like last year.
There are no new thoughts.
Every writer writes this poem,
the poem you are writing has been written.
Someone else wrote this.
Your throat bleeds a cliche
that tells you to walk away from all of it again.
This happens every few years.
No sleep, no rest,
no change to the pattern.
Close your eyes.
See the colors in the darkness.
Think about
the rushes
the shakes
the failure
the smoke
the phone bill
the anger
the warrants
the fines
the job
the no job
the aches
the free will
the boils
the gray hair
the old
the older
the questions
the seizures
the “why am I having seizures?”
the waking up piss covered in the warm of the sun shining through an open window
the afraid to take a shower
the afraid to drown in the bath
the shame
all of the shame
the guilt
the guilt that causes the shame
the embarrassment
the lonely
the shame,
and then sleep for ten minutes.
Wake up and do as the locals do.
See them scatter themselves across the park
like ignored dogshit baking in the sun.
Bake in the sun, it is shining today.
Yesterday was rainy.
Yesterday is always rainy.
Wish you could play an instrument,
wish you weren't allergic to bees.
You see a friend who asks why you look so sad,
ask them why they look so happy.
Realize it is the same question.
Know you always look sad and angry.
You are not always sad or angry.
Notice that the locals stare at you even tho you look just like them.
The breeze snaps your line of thought, it was about mandolins.
Mandolins are what happy sounds like.
Mandolins sound like Sunday morning.
Sunday morning sounds happy.
Happy sounds like Sunday.
Be happy.
Be like Sunday morning.

The Five Things I Learned in an Oklahoma Bar Fight on my 22nd Birthday

When the glass breaks over your head,
notice the flash of white that takes over the whole world.
The blood will seem like an afterthought,
the afterbirth to your newborn concussion.
Stand up, leave the bar in a bolt of confusion while
the other patrons turn spirits into ghosts.
Never be anywhere with so much hate.
When you get outside, light a KOOL, and smile.
Do not get angry when the tears streak down your face,
curl off your top lip, and snuff out the cigarette mid drag.
When you wipe the tears away and realize it is blood,
thank the cigarette for the warning and the cancer, throw it on the ground.
Never smoke anything laced in blood.
When you notice the police officer
noticing you fall towards your truck,
show him your keys, unlock the door,
show him your keys again, throw the keys
to the other side of the parking lot,
climb into the cab of your truck,
wave to the police officer,
lock the door,
lay down and sleep until sunrise.
When the sunrise does not provide you with sobriety,
go back to sleep.
Sleep until noon.
Never drive while you are bleeding.
When noon re-wakes you and you notice you are still bleeding,
mumble in a way that scares the birds while you look for your keys.
When you find them, smile for the little victory.
Stumble to the hospital, while pedestrians only
gasp at the sight of you, and do nothing to help.
Never go to the hospital unless you have to stumble to get there.
If the woman behind the emergency room desk
does not seem to care about your bleeding head, 
or your broken heart, 
withhold your disappointment.
Do not blame her,
simply pass out in a sweaty, bloody heap of self-righteousness.
That will show her.
When you wake up alone in a hospital bed,
examine the scenarios that could have
led you to a less stressful evening.
Always rethink your life when you wake up alone in a hospital bed

I want to fight Tom Cruise, or eleven things I wanted to say out loud so I wrote 
them down, numbered them, and called them a poem

1. I want to fight Tom Cruise.
2. The actions of some should never control opinions, that’s how they become 
generalizations, generalizations are usually kinda bad.
3. There is a whole genre of music that consists of white people rapping over country 
music with drum loops. They have rebel flags on their CDs and logos. NONE OF THEM 
SEEM TO BE JOKING. They call it…”Hick-Hop” or “Tractor Rap.” America is stupid 
4. I really want to fight Tom Cruise.
5. Gray hair is seen as a badge of honor by some. Others are the reason hair dye is 
a billion dollar industry. I am mostly bald, but my arm hair is turning white. To 
quote Jurassic Park, “nature finds a way.” Although that quote is about females 
having babies without males. I am a male. An American white male, which means 
I am taught to co opt things that scare me and apply them to myself because I 
am taught that I am the center of the universe. As examples: Hick-Hop, Jazz, 
Blues, Rock and Roll (side note; Fuck Led Zeppelin. If you don’t understand why, 
you might not know who Robert Johnson is, and probably should.), the Cowboy 
culture, AMERICA, a host of ideas brought forth by women that were stolen by 
men that we will never ever know about, reproductive rights, power in any form, 
and NOW, I have stolen the meaning of a quote from a book about female dinosaurs 
being cloned and reproducing without males and applied it to my own vain need 
for a product called, “Just For Men.”
6. I really REALLY want to fight Tom Cruise.
7. Science has proved our brains learn more from succeeding than failing… 
Stop Failing.
8. Jose Canseco, Madonna, Tyler Perry, Hulk Hogan, The Rock, Tori Spelling, 
and Dog the fucking bounty hunter, are all New York Times best selling authors. 
America is very stupid sometimes.
9. Marissa Tomei and the Civil Rights Act both turned 50 in 2014. Both are 
beautiful at any age. Nicolas Cage also turned 50 in 2014. Both Nicholas Cage 
and the Civil Rights Act seem much much older than they are.
10. I want to get very drunk with Glenn Beck until he admits that he based his 
whole bit on bad guy wrestlers and someone took him seriously, and now he make 
too much money to stop when all he wanted to do was be the next Paul E. 
Dangerously, and that there are 4 days worth of outtakes of him breaking down 
and saying, “can you fucking believe people buy into this shit!?”  Now I want 
to fight Glenn Beck.
11. I’m not sure why I want to fight Tom Cruise. Maybe it was Vanilla Sky. 
Or that shitty accent he had in Far and Away, or Legend, or Last Samurai, or 
maybe it was when he joined a cult and started saying things like, 
“Psychiatry is a pseudoscience.” When the word “crazy” is used as an insult 
to those who have never been diagnosed in some way, it arouses a slight anger. 
To those who have been diagnosed in some way and then publicly labeled as 
“crazy," it leads to more depression and further removal of ourselves from 
society. Tom Cruise also said that “postpartum depression is fake.” As far 
as I know he has never given birth, so his opinion on postpartum depression 
is as valid as his opinion on good movies. If you can’t do it, do not assume 
you can have an opinion about whatever “it” is, TOM, just stick to cults and 
dyslexia and colon cancer (it's coming Tom). That’s why I want to fight Tom 
Cruise… that and Top Gun. 
             (Oooo! Also, did you know his real name is Thomas Cruise Mapother 
              IV?!!?!?!?! HA!)

About Wil Gibson

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