Gaging your spot in this world with acid-burning insides.
      
                      A hazy head.
                      A faded sense of everything.
                      It seems that this isn't working.
                      You feel no passion;
                                       that's on you.
                      There's something that you ought to do but that thing won't
                       stop the burning.                                      
                  ­    Admittance won't clear the haze.
                      Action won't bring you closer to what's (at least) functional

                      Let's not talk about realities for a minute...

There has been
oppression
further back than
ball and chain gangways
in droves
as doves flew freely before them.

All the way
up until today,
when anonymity is entitled
to the one who
delivers this deadly recoil.

Think not in terms
of tones
bestowed upon us.

Some of us welcome it.
Regardless,
it is.

The most ****** up thing
before the trigger releases rounds
into your intentions to be
is the thought:
"She is this,"
as you take.

Us and Them
make us black and white
with the same hot, red blood spilling on the concrete.

Lost in the clips til I was lost to this
Beside myself; come tell me what eats you
Tell me why and how
your existence was shaken

When nuclear family detonates
we are left here in ceremonial garb
with no hands to pick up the pieces

and where is he to be found?

alabaster wool over a lamb


           bleat like a tinseltown
earthquake

Every broken heart screams for someone to see who they truly are.
Every day I step out in guise
wondering if they here my crys.

Very few do.
I love them dearly.
I wish they knew.

Jump from a bridge into a stream
High up in view: the dark sky spinning
Cannot shake my binding roots
Fixed until they are fully torn

A shielded stranger keeps still
Indifference being the function
Minding my own as my body knots
And my torso turns to wood

the past is a dream that comes back,
                            
                                 in the waning moments
                                       in the sloping seconds
                                            taking all images with them

When I slipped into sleep
flattening the frostbitten blades
that liquify under my body
the creeping amperage of aches
distract me from exposure

When he said 'It ain't easy out there'
he didn't envision blood curdling screams
Vivid nightmares that would pop me off my cardboard mattress
The ever common theme of falling
hoping I would hit the gelid side street

The path is singular when succumb to tunnel vision
in a gritty simulation I carry light
wallet, knife, and the daunting magic meter
In the romantic beginning, I was Aristippus twice removed
sailing on an escape route, against the grain until the end (at least)

you pity those people
crying in a field
momentarily
then you pity yourself

“They have no idea what it feels like to wait for the hurting to begin.”

you wait
you light a cigarette and wait
you have convinced yourself that you will see them again
you know that will not happen
but you are convinced
repeating the mantra to a faceless god

“If death is salvation,
I want you to bring me to the garden
where I can eat peaches
and have unprotected ***.”

When we look back
there is nothing but blotches

A faded remnants of the
brown-eyed school attendants.
Uprooted like floating log houses.
Convergent whims of the ******* children.

I'll be sure to take you down with me.
Down deep into the cellar.

i used to be but i've also been much less. now i dunno what i am or where i'm at. can't find my pants, either.

Rose gold and agave tincture drops
laid to rest upon the serpents tongue
until the speakers shake
the tree from which the martyr
falls unto the cloud
that splats on impact

Oh marmalade sweetness!
to what do we owe this
trembling rotten-legged pleasure?


Surface now in overtime
the sirens screeching
at the child across the street
who sinks into the boiling malt

Bring with you the chalice
full of aerial photographs
to drink the spectators thoughts
stuffed within the temporal stone

Remembering to forget
this holy place of presence
draw the mighty bridge we cross
into enveloping florescence

you would not come back from this
to scrape the resin off these walls
messages and photographs
cue the light that stings the eyes
round and round the vinyl slide
vicious sick it spins again

In the darkest night
plastic soliette carves resolve
to misplaced indignation

I've already died a million times
Reborn without missing a beat
A gridiron burden much larger than fading

I am here: as is, where is. so it goes...
Life hit me broadside and I danced naked in the streets,
exposed in lunar illumination

Enveloped in fearful curiousity
I dared to be different within an archaic monoculture
I cannot lie down, I've already tried!

This is who I am

Caught in a tank
with the chimes bristling above.
Slime hanging in the tension
that breaks bones.

Fair maid with a
stiletto pick.
Stop pressing, my dear.

In fear of looking up
anticipating two lungs capsized.
A plummeting vessel praying
through the facetious clouds.

Dawn takes over
and we refuse to stop.
Locked in embrace:
A false foot embedded
in the substrate.

Kelp explosions
holding us lightly,
grazing as we float
toward the surface.

Skeletons tangled in a mess
like that summer when you looked your best.

Take the last breath,
plunging the depths
to find at the bottom
a two-metre
tube worm.

Squirming as my lungs burst.
Post-partem.
Pre-historic.
Fleeting in the tunnel light
thats eaten up by its
benthic brother.