through the turbulent toss of a coin,
time drew its arrow back like a metro bus slowing to accept sparse, fresh picked passengers.
love, mind, and my soul swim together in a psychedelic pool of
the drowned sirens of old.
When night is cold, cold like the ship brimming through ice
ice Atlantic Ocean water
Eyes heavy, warmth of sleep, drifting through dreamscapes
she comes to me and runs her salt licked fingers through my hair.
And it doesn't hurt when she bites - well,
or maybe I succumb to it like all things
but when she pulls me down into the water, it all
becomes oh so clear.
I'm here to experience, like you
and for now, I suppose that really can be all there is to it.
This morning, I woke up in the bath
Hydrated, aware, no usual withdrawal
But I can't explain all this water on my floor and walls

You used to date someone who expresses her love for you in
secret love letters,
in far-away stares,
and in closed doors.

You used to settle
for kisses behind curtains,
attachments on empty hallways,
and memories being hidden.

Until you met me
in broad daylight,
in sunny days,
and blue skies.

Until I made you realize that
you are not meant
to be locked
in darkness.

You are meant to be free—
in colours,
in sunshine,
out there.

Sometimes
I don't want to breathe
but I still do
just to spite myself.

Making each morning
the remainder of questions
and the child
I know nothing about.

Tripping on Lynch
and sipping a fix mysteriously
digitized while any friction
imprints onto my drifting mind.
I used to wonder if the missing time
disappeared into the wicked "Why"
until it proved that concern was
the hidden eye that's twitches
behind the lid of the night sky.
it's indifferent to the light that splits
blissfully prismatic,
these dimensions lack what we wished they did.
That's a sick sadness to witness.
Believe that.

Tragic like the traffic lights reflected
what's left the windshields of smoking cars.
Bent steel,
horns blaring,
gas leaking onto cracked concrete.
Stars hang silent as the space between them.

Comfort zones.
I abandon those even better than I used too.
So pursue what you want.
Because as you can see I don't hesitate.
I chase narrative threads
like a pretty face in a crowd.
Being dead to things that chain you
to the proverbial radiator is good.
I promise.

Wrap myself up in Saturday
Tighten the day around me
Relaxation should be fashion
With a stage of people lounging
Letting the week fall away
Wouldn’t that be luxury
A runway show
Of casual mornings, easygoing evenings
Affordability in the convenience
Drink down fancy coffee and hot chocolate
As Saturday becomes a world renowned designer
Of my relaxation

Point the barrel at me.
Let me see my future
unfold right before my eyes
as you pull the trigger.

the
scars of wars
entangled
our
souls
marching
cattle herds
into
the
Steel Vaulted Gas Chambers
and
through
the
Arnold Red Brick Ovens
while
marching us into the wind