"Why did you stay up so late?" she asked
Because my mind is a machine
And this machine controls my body
And this machine told me not to sleep
So instead we paced and we paced
And we paced until my body was tired
And than back to bed the three of us went
And we lie awake pondering -
All the things, minuscule and big-
That I can not, will not ever change
Until it reached the point of futility
My body ready and willing, begging
The machine resisting, pulling itself apart
"Just wait for the collapse" I told myself
Then and only then, will this machine-
Release it's grip on me
Then and only then,
Will I be allowed to sleep
Wait, what's that sound?
What's that sound?
It's must be the sound
of the answering machine
Please leave your message after the...
Soul of dew
Dried by midday.
‘Tis a sensible hour.
He is the one who is called
I am the one who is called
Soul of dew.
I am the one who is now
Into an evanescent being,
Only to dry
Much too soon.
Forgot soul of dew, hurled.
Soul of dew
Hurled, Forgot was too late.
I can feel the energy leaving my arms
As if there's nothing left to write.
It can't be true; however,
that there's nothing left to write
There's got to be something
That got dark fast.
I could write something,
I think I have the energy
But what to write about?
i’ve forgotten the sound of your voice
except for the time you yawned
and daisies were pushed through the grass.
your hands are locked together, aren’t they?
i can’t open them anymore because
i’ve foolishly lost the key.
don’t forget to water the cactus
give it a kiss or two so it remembers
even when you bleed, it’s still loved.
are you still listening? i've been
wandering for days in the desert
looking for your last drop of water.
orange has turned into green now
but only you’ll understand why
my heart breaks when the flowers bloom.
each beep an hour
as i stare at this screen
the watch i forgot to deprogram tells me
what the numbers in my eyes scream
i feel my ears to listen to
the stillness between
as the tires jolt in circles and travel
and it beeps
but what do we do now?
myself and who i thought i was--
unfinished projects began
to be forgotten
because the tires jolt in circles
i become impervious to beeping
scrotum on the carpet
is my constant state of being