throw him a curveball

Late at night
when streetlights silhouette inebriated youth
I sit alone in my living room
under my favorite blanket
riding cotton waves with flattened palms
like grease traversing a rose petal.

Sure, sometimes it’s lonely
sometimes it’s sickening
and sometimes it’s just another night alone.

But every now and then
I hurl the blanket to the floor
pop open a bottle of wine
and hunch over a legal pad
clutching a pen that secretes blood.

Blood as black as ink.


cliff weber (Santa Monica, CA, 1986)

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keep it simple

"Don't be fooled by the moonshine. The night is young and the night is ours. I can see you are wary. I can see the goosebumps beginning to crawl down your arms. They trickle past your elbow like Plinko chips and I watch with disco ball eyes as if a $10,000 slot sits above your middle knuckle. Don't be scared. Trust me when I say I will protect you. Trust me when I say I love you. Don't be fooled by the moonshine. Don't ever give up on a night like this."


cliff weber (Santa Monica, CA, 1986)

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the heavy musk of masochism

I busted my ass for $20 a week squeezing cellophane dreams out of jugular veins. Flowers hung from sad, limp stems in the raspy hallway of my apartment. My life felt like a screaming frenzy of nothingness. I began panicking, deteriorating, gnashing my teeth late into the night. And then one Sunday morning, as the churning sun beat down on my ingrown toenail, the antidote appeared wearing a silk suit.

The lion no longer chews upon my heart.


cliff weber (Santa Monica, CA, 1986)

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