Once, I had it bad for a girl
She let me play ******** music
in her living room,
and she had long brown hair.
she had a big *** dog.
it was a good dog,
nice to be around.
she was too.
I'm pretty sure
That they both
bit our bluesman friend
at one time or another,
but that's beside the point.
Once, we stared at each other for a long time.
Nothing really happened
Except that I fell into the chasm of her eyes,
And have spent every day since
Working my way up the cliffs
Outlined in shades of blue and green in her retinas,
a Bedouin for my affectation
and enamoration with the woman that I used to know.
For a moment,
I was even tempted to move into a cave in her mind,
But the spirits called me forward
Into the desert of my own mind.
It's been a few years.
She's in the embrace of methamphetamines now.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
"Put a lucky-seven noose around my neck
so I know it's real."
Tie me to a fence post,
Beat. Me.
Leave a buckle-ended imprint on my ***
Call me a dull-minded imbecile.
A stupid little ******
If you will.
Oh, take me back.
Take me as I am.
Baby, you make me feel
Like a child again.
Scrape at my scars
so I know it's real.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 5:33 PM UTC
I have missed your company.
Enveloped in strange faces,
The only coterie I keep of late
Is that of your overwrought descant.
Oh, James Douglas.
What happened to your dream?
DO NOT DESPAIR,
FRIEND
The words you once transcribed
Your intoxicating,
Or was it intoxicated
Ragtime
Linger in the subconscious of a generation,
an unnoticeable haversack
Traveling
Seeing
Traveling
Watching every ounce
Of the determinate world
Seeing
Acting as
The portmantoligism of my conscience
And what is left of my intellect
Until I realize that my
Crippling loneliness,
Is the only palatable fruit of disillusionment.
See, Christine?
Anybody can use big words to write about the 20th Century.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
My life,
A PLOT DEVICE
A STAGE DIRECTION
a footnote.
But at least it serves a purpose.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:37 AM UTC
The world, my oyster
My
Wooden
Orbital
Strand
Oyster.
A hopeless search for an ersatz pearl.
I hope you're proud
Of what you have built.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
I am not a morning person.
I am not a man built for the sunrise,
unless said sunrise is rising sullenly over the ridge
on the culmination of a long summer's eve.
This is not something that
One
Should
Necessarily
Lament
When considering the fact that
Mostpoliticaladvancementisdoneintheweehours.
The hours of night beckon unceasingly.
Time well spent in the company of Erebos.
In a world where neon seems to burn with the brilliance of hydrogen,
A confundation of chemistry comparable to my every interaction.
Yet I find myself yearning for the age
That I fall asleep on the same day in which I woke.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
Crawling
Malicious Flow
From every crevasse
Seeping, Oozing, Running
Blanketing everything
In Unadulterated Apathy
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
Lethargy
creeps into my consciousness.
I would gladly do something to fight it.
If I wasn't so ******* tired.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
Her face
A decade of over ex-posure
to synthetic radiation coupled with far too much
-Time.
Time spent looking disgusted at non-trivial ventures
created an irreparable
leather-bulldog façade.
A healthy dose of
nepotistic narcissism
and the articulation of
railroad spikes trailing across an empty slate.
A month's compensation
signing the all-too familiar signature
across the fibers of her liver
How to resist
Such a specimen of modernism?
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC