The lightswitch turns off, and so do the shadows that illuminate treachery in my soul.

good   night,
and sweet dreams to the
   ants that cover my bedside cookies. the milk is half
drunk

The tree sits in place forever and never gets to leave

When the saw Mill takes its lover
The shadow falls like heavy linen draped over a small child

It doesn't ask for much,
  just to be left alone in the summer rain so it can remember all
the things it never got
to do

Writing poetry when you have no audience is madness,
It's like the schizophrenic transient babbling about spacecrafts
But the second you put him on a TV show
It's genius

"WHAT'S YOUR WORDCOUNT?
WHAT'S YOUR WORDCOUNT?" he shouted

I don't know, but I make my words count

Never trust someone who doesn't know the difference between jail and prison.
If they tell you they went to prison for shoplifting, or drunk and disorderly they are full of ****;
especially
if they write numerous poems about it. there's only one poem to write,
and it's about sitting in your bed frame watching jerry springer.
The rest are breakfast poems
Stop lying

If this is all it takes to bring down a civilization, then maybe it should collapse
modern humans are weak , and the 'primitives' would be laughing at how pathetic and far man has fallen. Like a wolf sadly glancing at the pellet-filled
chihuahua barking tethered from a fence. It was lost a long time
ago