When I was younger and began diving into moss,
I heard whispers of a place where the hours flew on the wings of wandering albatross.
There, never would you find a sore thumb sticking out.
Or hear the name of the lovers who left you in sacred drought.
The misty morning fog could carry you to shore
Back just in time for the service of the church of locked doors
And I'm still waiting for my ticket in
And for that I have sinned
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
Where does love go?
Does it hide under the shade of splattered moments?
Or in the smiles of passing faces?
Can you contain it in a jar and stir it until it becomes one even component?
Like salt in water/
Love sinks to the bottom and collects with the rest
And that's where the sages sing their hymns
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
All of your colors
They bounce off my shutters
And create a flume
Steady as we crash
when we make the shortest dash
to the empty spaces we find between our sheets
Can you make your way back down to earth
or
draw a map to the center of the room
Or are you lost in the ocean of limbs that our bodies constitute
You are me and I are you
We are the windows of a big house
And the wicked little things that live within keep us shut all the time
Are you mine?
That's all that matters in the end
But as we drink our wine and
spend our lives we forget to say I love you
So we never know and maybe you never will
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
There was something distinctively heretic about the way this girl was tampered with.
The way she moved.
It was as though the finer inner workings of her Body and Soul were borrowed from another who's fate was drowned in blood many ages ago.
A symbol of beauty wrapped in the grips of a violent dance with inertia.
Cursed to make love to this world over and over again till love was reduced to a stain on the wall
A photograph of the sun,
all shine and no shimmer.
Standing beside her felt like the first time glass hit concrete.
Was I happy or was I just not paying any attention?
That is a question worth asking twice
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
In the spirit of the season
Cut your sleeves and come take
a walk with me
Down Victory Avenue and Sunshine Street.
Where a lung collapsed next to an old radio
We blame it on the snake
But it was really the toad
It's frying your fins
UV Rays and telescopes
We keep finding probes in holes that weren't there before
Is this what it feels like to waste away under an umbrella?
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
Sometimes gold clings to the bone
And that's where she comes from
On chariots driven by drunken sages
She'll glide gracefully into existence
and then fade right back out of it
Id like to think shes playing a game with her own shadow
to see who's leading who
As the night rolls on
The glaciers will melt into puddles in our cups
The dust settles into a stool next to mine
And takes on a familiar shape
We both look at her in reserved amusement and snicker like young school boys under our drinks
One of us will end up in her bed tonight
Cheers to that old friend
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 2:25 AM UTC
The first time I saw you
I saw blue
Crimson, bright,shimmering and effervescent.
You could paint the bottom of the ocean with her complexion and would be able to see all the way down into the
deep
dank
abyss
You are atomized sunshine
And the culmination of all the desires that a
kindred soul could feast upon in this material world
Oh yes,
I loved you in a million different ways
but
I could never be in love with you
Not in the farce sense at least
But, rather
how a tornado passes through a small town in Ohio and destroys everything in its path except for the bar
Enjoy your time in the sun, bluebird
You can find me withering away where you saw me last
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
I’m chasing an early grave down Euclid Ave
and no one is looking in the right direction
Did i mention i was on fire?
This is store-bought depression
with the white plastic bag that says THANK YOU in red lettering
Now its turned to blood
This is how you feel
when you can’t recall where you were during 9/11
Give me your mass-produced discontentment
I want to smoke and not die
Sometimes i dont want to die at all
Today the oldest person in the whole-wide world took her last breath
she was 117
On her birthday last march she said her life felt too short
Where the **** does that leave me
I wish i were born a lobster so id
get stronger and meatier with age
and then when I’m at my prime they’d ****** me up
to sell on the market for a few hundred dollars
When you devour me remember to wear something nice
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
Little bits of you are scattered around this place.
Here are the steps you rested your thoughts upon while you smoked.
Here are the dust pans and assorted brooms that you once blessed with your touch but now they just hang around and slump to one side.
This is the rug you stumbled upon in a hazy trance time and time again
These are the hallways and the people that led you to me.
And this is the door you'll never walk through again.
I look up and you're still not there.
This is the hell I've made for myself.
The pay is still **** but it's better then being stuck at home with you on my mind.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
So you're at this bar in East Atlanta.
Lofty, softy East Atlanta.
Where all the lovely cannibals gather in a mass frenzy
of mendacious liveliness
and pseudo-intellectual conversations.
Everywhere you turn
it's the same gang of
disillusioned catastrophes
Husky Hank has a jaw that can cut through concrete.
He's seated in the stool next to mine,
(A handsome brute in the midst of his quarter-life crisis)
hangs his head at an angle,
And begins to sob hysterically.
Snot and all.
From what I can make out,
some damsel had broken his heart due to his lack of stamina and her lack
of support for his band which he says
"kinda sounds like Radiohead before they went mainstream "
Now he can't imagine going on with ought her.
Says life has lost all it's precious meaning.
I want to tell him:
"with a face like yours I could rule the world"
But I let the Greek god howl
For his mortal mistress
There's considerate Cathy in floral slacks
waving her cigarette about like its contagious.
Says she wants to save the world.
But she can't even save herself.
"In the emerging world of ethnic conflict and civilizational clash, Western belief in the universality of Western culture suffers three problems: it is false; it is immoral; and it is dangerous."
She quotes Huntigton ( yes I've read him too)
It's robotic and was almost certainly pre rehearsed periodically in front of a mirror to evade her stammering sputter prone vernacular.
I want to tell her none of us
are really worth saving.
That in a couple thousands of years;
not a single wretched soul will remember the story of a place onece called earth.
But she's still an option
I want to keep open
So I bite my tounge and smile real big
Insufficient Isaac sold
his first painting last week.
Or was it last year ?
Sarahs singularity
Conors dancing catharsis
Forgettable Francine neglected to
Flower her Siberian Iris's
At 8 o'clock this morning
Now all she wants is a
Fogy eyed
Two bit stranger
To bang her skull against their headboard until she sees god
Sovereign Sally has yet to
spend a single cent of her moms
pension because it makes
her feel secure
I ask her to buy me a drink
Where am I again ?
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC