Wrapped all around me.
Locked tight behind my back.

I could stay here for awhile.
She doesn't seem to mind.

Drawn together,
polarized lips.



It's something else.
It doesn't conform
to sensibilities,
to expression.

It's ethereal,
it's a misted forest path
winding through
a familiar vale.
A hidden walkway
you never noticed,
even though
you've been
down this
trail before.

It's something that
words can't convey,
but you know it
when you feel it
and you're powerless
to ignore it.



Drawn together,
tangled up,
wound about,
bound,
knotted.

Drawn together,
fated.

Sometimes those words left unsaid
go on chasing their tails in my head
until I finally get to spout them out
to anyone who happens to be around.

They'll look at me with a questioning eye,
so exquisitely curious as to precisely why
I felt that they were the one with whom I'd share
the fact I **** my pants and ruined my underwear.

"I was going mad!" I'll say with a glare.
"I had to tell someone, I suppose...
You just so happened to be there,
and so that's just the way it goes."

Betrothed to a great and unending sorrow.
Grasping, wide-eyed, at advertisements
luring the wanting soul inside with
decadent promises of quality and joy.
Perfection marches on, lingering in the eyes
of millions, so that they may divulge themselves
of hard earned money for brief spurts of happiness,

and it is indeed true happiness,
even if momentary.
Clicking the blue purchase button,
the anticipation of package tracking.

Another thing.
Another thing to pile up, and throw away.

It's not the thing that's being purchased,
it's the promise of fulfillment.
It's the brief respite
from that great and gray cloud
to which we're all wed.
It's the moment of joy,
that's what's really paid for.

Oh, and have you seen that new cellphone?
I want one.

You should too.

I want to eat
until I don't feel anymore
because
when I feel
I don't want to eat anymore.




I'm going to start seriously drinking again
because
I've been doing a lot of serious thinking again.

**** rhyme.
It's been made
ten thousand times.
*******.
**** me.

If you die
before me,
I'll exhume you
and curl up
against the
cold flesh.

Finally your outside
will match
your insides.

Chilled,
and rotting.

God let out a sigh in the morning frost,
burying the valley in billows of thick fog
and as I drove, white knuckled, through
his great exasperation with utmost care.
I saw the evil within myself painted so
meticulously in the rear view mirror.
A toothy demon looked back at me as
I smiled, after smearing cold, gray asphalt
with the blood of some crossing rodent.
I was pleased with the double thwump
sound, indicating that I had ran it down
with both the front and the rear wheels.
Killing **** felt good that dank morning,
I relished in the thought, in the blind fury.
I quivered in delight at the idea of burning
gasoline, chuffing choking clouds and fumes
into the air to mix with this blinding fog.
I gnashed my teeth hungrily at the notion
of polluting the beauty that surrounds us all
while bouncing the needle off the rev limiter.
I wanted to watch it all perish, I wanted to
find every last happy person on earth and
drown them in a river of my filthy anguish.
I felt my anger swelling, and I swam into its
rippling currents. I dove into that sea of rage
and drank greedily of it's salted undertow.
My mind was a plane of fire, a flat rift of pain
where everything I've ever loved would never
be allowed to love anyone or anything again.
Jaw clenched so hard I felt a molar crack and
a rivulet of auburn blood trickled down my chin.
I saw my destiny flash before me in a sudden
blaze of pulsing red warning lights popping
through the dewy fog, and before I had time to
even consider an apology to whatever it was
that I called God, the inside of my windshield
became plastered with the contents of my skull
as I crashed full speed into the back of a stopped
school bus.

Finally happy,
yet still a poor soul.

That familiar dizzy
graces me again.

Tastes like a grimace.
The taste of fate again.

Twelve bucks
is cheap
to feel this
blessedness.
To feel this
sin.

That familiar fuzzy,
vision blurred again.

Tastes like forgetting,
the taste of home again.