what a waste

what a waste Feb 2018

Every single second it’s another parsec.
I know I’m a wreck, but the least you could do is visit.
I’ll grab you a map, so long as you don’t look at the distance.
I promise you won’t miss it. What’s another car trip?
No, you won’t get carsick. It’ll be but a minute.
Plus I got a plane, so it’s nothing but a thing.
What do you say? Wanna be my Sunday?

what a waste Feb 2018

Collapsing Arteries

I’m smoking like I was reaching for the nose bleeds.
Watching **** youse slip through the grit,
you can catch me grinning up a **** storm.
Got the women wet and their boys warm.

Yeah.

Sometimes I think I’m gonna die,
but I keep on spinning anyways.
We’re all here until where not, right?
Would you smile at your last goodbye?

I would.

That’s why I keep a heart tattooed to my hand.
You can always find Indiana and ask him who I am.

what a waste Feb 2018

Pills & Liquor

The chosen has awoken.
Time to kick back a few potions.
You know, swashbuckle the swig like a showman.
I’m here for the heroics,
all the way down to the goldfish.
I’m the bottom feeder that figured out floating.
Sorta doltish.
Got rank and file like, “Hold on, ***, he’s still loading.”
Um, Ma’am? I think you meant molting.

It's hard not to hate myself sometimes

what a waste Feb 2018

Rusty

I sold myself as an ocean.
Sailed it til I was lost out in the open.
I wonder if it's cause I thought myself brave.
The waves seem to sink beneath the days.

what a waste Feb 2018

Painfully Honest

I shake trees and watch junkies
drop like leaves. Please, it's a subtle breeze.
If I wanted to, I could puff this place
to it's knees. Freeze! It's a robbery.
Got you reaching for the stars.
Heh, as if you could follow me.
I'm toking up an ocean.
Floating up this poem.
Got it bottled for the coastland.
Coded for the devoted.
Duly noted were the roses.

what a waste Jan 2018

A B C

I only hear the dead.
Only grieve The Never.
Possessed like specter.
Melon working like a piston.
Ignition. Yeah, It's a weapon.
Boom but bigger; think destined.
Mutant to these silly humans.
Beetles bejeweled to a windshield.
Equal to a decal, now just how does that feel?
Best to kneel before General Zod.
If not, it's the drop top, Cogs.
I could swerve outside the lines
and still stay on course.
I'm like an astronaut to the horde,
casting lightning bolts when I'm bored.
My crown's adorned with worms,
best believe I feed the birds.

what a waste Jan 2018

Imaginary

I need a cat nap.
Who's got the catnip?

My opinion..
Bristled whiskers warrant the Tinkerer's missiles.
Get lost in a field of lily-white when the doom plume glitters.
Around here, the suspicious get slipped into sinkholes
like a billion dim pixels fading through a fishbowl.
Although, we all know, vertigo provokes the sickest flow.