I'm not married to any one color of ink,
but only how well it can cover distinct
and interesting topics pulled out of the air
while behind it a movie plays without care.
Can I create something of value from here?
In a place remote and removed while still very near.
For the movie has been playing for years and years
will all its goings-on, hi-jinx, drama and tears
But it always plays just beyond my reach
I'm front-row, orchestra but this cast doesn't teach.

I am,
Dim and without substance
Offering neither zest nor challenge
Naked. numbing. neanderthal
Nauseous niceties
Amorphous and devoid of form
Insidiously simple
Hateful at Heart
Aspiring to uninspire
Truly untrue
Eager to envy
Yellow, yucky
Old and Sick
Un-alive

Break me,
disassemble me if you must
but build me better next time.
I can’t bare another ill-fitting ego.  
Dancing in these ridiculous shoes
outgrown a decade ago
the idiot grin finally yields
to burning blisters.
Even the dance, spun from necessity
is outdated and awkward
In fact, every dance I see
every silly play, every make-work crisis
clumsy, clueless  conductors
orchestrate tone-deaf symphonies
while we dance our days away.

From the moment she  first put me in my place.
Following  with texts and pics of her ivory face
I was smitten
From the first time she taught me something
new,
      fresh,
           and  fun,
A force, beautiful, brilliant, real as the sun.
I love her irreverence but kind at the core
We're both damaged , and jaded but tough as iron ore
Spicy, Sassy and smart as a fox
She gave a middle-aged guy butterflies; considerations of detox.
Given the choice I wouldn't change a single thing;
This girl's the real deal,  in a world full of dim

Last week, on a particularly dark Sunday;
With only a permit between me and eternity;
I exhaled and it was gone.
Gone was the hurt and anger and pain
Gone was self-doubt and anguish and fear
Gone was the guilt and regret and self hate
Because gone was me
Not my body, or my mind
Not my love or appreciation
Those were expanded, exponentially.
No I literally mean me.
The guy driving, the pilot
The Great and Powerful Oz,
I pulled back the curtain
and no one was there.
And I was absolutely ecstatic
In a rush of pure love
The talking head exploded
and a butterfly took flight
"I think he's really gone this time"
Good riddance.

If not for insanity,
I'd have no sanity.
Pass the salt

There is no wound like regret,
a festering infection
lingering long past initial cut.
A reminder of its infliction.
Of failed attempts to change course.
Of time squandered
on madness masked as problems.
Of a way once clear and easy to follow.
Now untended, and overgrown,
With pitfalls to spare.
Once surrounded by companions in travel,
Now only a few broken remain;
Too weak, and sick, to clear the path again
So we sit, and obsess,
on festering infections
While the weeds continue to grow.