Hello stress
Goodbye rest
Hello late nights
Hello appetite
Goodbye judgement
Hello lament

Workouts are fleeting
Enter bad eating
My addictions just shift now
From TV to...what now?

It's drugs in the morning
It's food at lunch
A smoke ring I'm forming
Now back to the crunch

Next'll be uppers then downers then more bull
And soon I'll need hard **** to feel half normal

At the end of this hectic whole putrescent week
It's a buzz and some rest and some love that I seek

Altruism, at its best,
Is only a means to pass a test
That you perceive you are in...
Of an absent God who licks your chin

    "What, in her do you see? Pray tell!"
"She's so selfless; generous to all."
    "So she tells me", I think to myself.
"...To all but you.", I think.  And stall.

What do I tell my dear dear brother?
What do I tell this brilliant boy?
That I'd rather he find another?
Altruism schmaltruism - Where's the joy?

Out of the ashes
Altruism arises
Here in this place
There are no prizes

There are no rewards
Other than bragging rights...

Cut the cord. Loose the bonds.
It's flimsy fodder - to offset fights

I'm in my childhood home
Or a reasonable facsimile thereof
And this holy man with a tome
Talks of visions and love

I seem to recall him relaying
A vision of flame on the ceiling
And fervently preaching and praying
For the group of us gathered 'round kneeling

Like an inverted brook of fire going
Up the stairway and over the hall
The fire represented The Spirit flowing
Like the tongues in Acts alighting on all

And the holy man looks like my father
With sports coat and mock turtleneck
But about details, this man can't bother
And I wake with a start. What the heck?

Trudging through the frightful torrent,
The stinging rain could cut through my clothes
The stinking smog smell is abhorrent,
And the train rumbles as it goes

I'm trying to reach a resting place,
As faces are flying faster past,
A sheltered bus stop I reach at last,
And sit myself down, and thank my good graces

I'm not quite sure just where I'm heading
It's always out of reach, it seems,
Being late is what I'm dreading,
...*That's one of my recurring dreams