the helicopter's searchlight
against the trees project the
shadows of leaves bobbing in the street to
impersonate the reflection of water
it looks beautiful, honestly
until the
slaps of my soles on
suspect blacktop bring me
back and i wonder
who the hell they're looking for

please forgive me
if i don't talk much
there's too much conversation
in my head
and to speak anything
into existence
would be unnecessary

roses are red
violets are blue
you ******* *****

he sank the entire ship
just to **** his captain.

back to the basics
of vibrating atoms
geometric patterns
accept reality
as a projection
of senses and
unseen dimensions
attract what you need
and always feed the dream.

sitting on my bed
i have to ***
all the **** is gone
the screen is still blank
that stupid line blinks
i feel something
something powerful
but it won't come out
so i sit here looking
dumb
until i write a
****** poem about
how i can't write.

think of the sunrise
that will bloom a new day over
your grave
or the tree that will give you shade
whose roots will cradle your casket.