Fluttering lights
Like night sky butterflies
Waver between death
And endless life

The leaves that blowing in the wind
All whisper out a name
And as I peek up at the sky
I see clouds spelling out the same
**** thing I been thinking bout all night
Tryna keep it outta mind
Tryna keep it outta sight
Cause I'm drowning in my head
Can't keep afloat atop this dread
From thinking bout the past
Back when I used to fantasize
About commiting suicide
To help me fall sleep at night
Because it didn't feel like death
It felt like an escape
From the various mistakes
And potential bad decisions I've yet made
But since I seen it first hand
My uncle swinging in the wind
I realized it's just cheap
So I value the position that I'm in
And I've come to respect it
And come to respect my kin
And wouldn't want the weight
Of that decision to be on them

But sometimes late at night
When I'm tryna fall asleep
And I listen to my mind
It says that she should be alive
And that it should be me
That's buried underneath

Hey *******,
not once in my life
have I ever hit my elbow
and ******* laughed.

Whoever the ****** was that
******* named it that
should be shot.

I may drive truck for a living
but don't let that fool you,
my full-time job is really
fighting off the voice in my head
constantly telling me to
not give a **** about anything.

Miles of art
All buried beneath
These mounds.

Mounds of dirt
Meant to drive away
Silent hill people.

Under the art,
Under the mounds,
The world's on fire
Under the ground.

This place feels like
A cemetery.

I could paint the sky
With the color of my sighs.

Blue,
Purple,
Black.

A bruise of a day,
Preceded by a shameful evening
Of bearing my yellowed teeth.

Inhale the dye,
And stain my insides.
Because sometimes even the hidden truths
End up being lies,
And I'll tell myself
It's the hand we've been dealt.

These new jeans are too tight,
And just for self-spite
I'll go and cut them up into
Beautiful butterflies.

Dawn brought a bruised sky with it,
A spattering of trundling snow clouds
Scattering the radiant light of the rising sun
Into nothing more than a blue and purple smudge
Peeking through the gap in my bathroom curtains.

It was just enough light to see a silhouette
Of myself in the mirror hung above the sink.
It's fun to imagine the reflection isn't a reflection,
But a window into another universe, another
Perspective on how I actually exist and persist.

I want to reach into the silvered glass,
Like it were a puddle of polished chrome,
And give the silhouette a squeeze on the shoulder.

I want to let him know that
He's doing a good job,
And that I'm proud of him
For everything he's done.
Even the little things
Like getting laundry washed
And waking up on time.

"You're doing alright man,"

Were the first words I spoke that day,
Smiling to myself.

A little more light was pouring in now,
Liquid day filling the room a bit,
And for a second I saw the silhouette
In the mirror a bit more clearly.

I could've sworn he mouthed the word:
"Thanks."

I need a war.
We all need a war.
A real war too, not this
falsified and opaque war
on terror or whatever the ****
we've been doing for the past
twenty years in the desert.
Give us something bigger
to ******* ***** about.
Give us good verses evil.
Something more meaningful
than this curse called the internet.
Give us something to die for,
in a violent and ****** rage.
Give us some meaning,
give us a new age.

Tap into a new state of mind,
there you may find
something worth your time.

You've said that you just don't know
what it means to see growth.
It's rather slow.

I missed
the good and the bad,
the happy and the sad.
They passed me by.

But these walls still
whisper your name,
it's becoming a game;
staying ignorant.

Honestly not much has changed.

Just little things like
rodents uncaged.

It's tough deciding
whether I miss you or not.

It's a lonesome matter,
and I'm just a selfish ****.

I don't miss the mania,

I don't miss the mania.

Dawn is here again,
But this time
make it a little different.

A simple, subtle change.

The voice of logic screams in pain
at the sight of my toothy, idiotic grin.
Heart beats drill into my brain
with a percussive pounding maintained
onward deep into the night and
following my thoughts throughout the day.

So sometimes reasoning goes away
when love is dripping from my face.

Porcelain
Sharper than swords
Whiter than ghosts
Shattered in a pile
Porcelain
Like a shallow pool
Of tepid tap water
And I'm dying of thirst
Porcelain
Don't go chipping on me
Now that we've been set free
Dear, you're a skeleton key
Porcelain

My, how the trees keep secrets.
My, oh my, how they grow.
Oh, how the trees all whisper
as the fierce winter winds blow.

Tread atop discarded leaves,
between branches; carefully weave.
My, how the forest impedes.
Trees never tell what they know.

They aren't silent, these trees
emit creaks and gutteral groans,
like giants waking from slumber
and stretching their turgid bones.

The canopy then blocks out the sun,
compelling me to break into a run.
One hand clasping tight on my gun,
should've never wandered off alone.

I watched
As you
Twirled
And
Spun

Now I just
Remember it
Over
And over
Again

Taste of blood
Like the
Taste
Of a
Gun

I'll just
End up
Where
It all
Began

I watched
As you
Loved me
And
Sprawled

Now
I just
Remember
It
Dying

I watched
As you
Gave me
Your
All

Now I
Can't
Even
Remember
Why

Why I just didn't see it
At the time

Why do I find myself
In this paradigm

******* posers.
I'm the real deal,
*******.
Watch me
Dance
My stupid *******
Monkey dance,
And listen
To me sing
My dime a dozen
**** heap song.

Real is as real
As you want it to be,
But if you ask me,
*******,
You're all faking it
Just as much
As I am.

So get crispy,
And leave me
The ****
Alone.

Giving up ****
Feels pretty good to me.

Think I'll stay awhile.

It's worth
The wait.

I'm hungry,
In a primal
Kind of way.

Come
and
Satiate.

Let's leave
Lovely little stains
All over the place.

Let's ruin
Some clothing,
With remnants
Of love.

Let's lie
On the verge
Of muddy sleep,
Let's dance
On the razor's edge
Of consciousness.

Let's,
Let's...

Just let's.

Let's do it
Again,
And again,
And again.

Better wait.
I tend not to
Hesitate.

It's big in my mind,
Meeting your daughter.
I'm sure it's fine.

Walls crumble
At your touch,
Regardless of how subtle.

A new house
In a new state,
She wants people
To come and stay.

It's tough
To justify a visit
When you moved
Four hours away.

I wanted to see
How it would be,
But maybe not during
A pandemic holiday.

Dreams still come true,
A place down by the beach
Is still a place down by the beach,
And I look forward to it every day.

In a gross misconduct,
And verbal conflagration,
I regurgitate these words
That wouldn't be digested.
Now I'm covered in my mess,
Bits of vowels stuck to my chest
And my new jeans reek of
Conjecture and ignorance.

We measure our success
By what we build
SoOoo

Sand castles and recycling bins
Which can I stack higher
Built too close to the tide
Maybe self sabotage is what I desire

When the glass topples and shatters
And I sweep up the shards
The fine dust is what actually matters
When it tears my lungs apart

But who knows when I'll decide
That perhaps what I'm building is wrong
And life could be better spent beside
The people that I've loved all along

Hope she's got a pen on her,
I bet that she does.

Blessed fragility.
My grandfather lost his religion,
somewhere along the way.

Not long after Mom passed
he gave up Sunday mass
for long and unrequited naps.

I wonder what dreams are seeded
by the ever present soundtrack
of Hogan's heroes.

Hitting backspace too much lately.

She stretches.
On a lazy morning.
Under my covers,
In my bed.

Weight.
The emotional scales
Become a teeter totter,
And I can't find a balance.
I could never find my balance.

I'm over-dramatic.
I know it's all in my head,
But...

Thrown away,
Dug up.
I'm divided.

And, ****!
Ain't the good, just..
..so, ******* good.

Ain't it just..
..some kinda warmth..?
..some kinda... God?
Her, here again?

Ain't it just clutching me?
The dripping wet maw of lust,
The dire, clenching grip of lost love,
The light, whispered touch of fair skin?

Ain't it just ripping me to shreds?
The dichotomy of who I am,
Verses who it is that I want to be?

All I know is, she got legs for miles.
And man...
Don't you just know that
I'm gonna savor
Draping those legs upon myself.

I'm gonna wear her like a knit scarf.

I'm gonna savor her flavor.
I'm gonna savor her smell.

I'm gonna look at her
The way a ******
Looks at a loaded needle.

I'm all tied off,
I can feel my heartbeat in my ears.

Time, clocks
Circles make us up
Wheels, cogs
Back where I started from

Years of flipping through them,
Torn pages filled with photos
And things.

Must've thrown them away
At some point,
Maybe recently.

The book was in the cupboard,
The photos were in the book,
She was in the photos in the cupboard in the book.

It was there for years,
And years and years,
Every time I looked.

Now they're gone, and I'm not sure where
They may have ended up, but...
I don't really care.

Because sometimes it takes
A little letting go
To let the past fade out,
And to focus on tomorrow.

My bird returned home,
Only not in photo form.
Those photos may be gone
But now there's time for more.

I can feel it
in my bones.
Is this my home?

Twist the pops
out of my spine.
God, that feels divine.

Do your best,
take it slow.
Make a call on your phone.

Do not stop,
keep it aligned.
A beer helps me unwind.

A smell, a vibe,
the fear of being alone.
Do you want to be my home?

Weaver of tales,
fiddler of twine.
Author of all my time.

Got done work
early today,
only an eight hour shift.

Was eager for bed,
didn't clean at all.
I just got drunk instead.

Girl's coming up tomorrow,
gotta make the bed.

Gotta pick my place up
and not get drunk instead.

I lie to myself
and say that
I keep it clean for me,
but only I know
that without someone else to please
I'd let this place
slowly accumulate
my garbage and debris.
Until the detritus
overwhelmed me,
in my comfy old jeans.
I'd be in over my head,
because I wouldn't be able
to delegate,
and I'd just
get drunk instead.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe there's a tangible thread
that dangles and wavers,
ever so slightly,
as my eyes turn steadily red.

Yellow
Tastes
Fields
Of gray
Shallow
Puddles
Rainbow stain
Burning
Scent
Stinging
Smoke
A cloud
A sign
A single spoke
Spinning
Wheels
Cogs
Enmeshed
Work together
Drive the rest

Inspired.
Penned a letter to a fellow,
Told him thanks for the tip.
He taught me that nothing
Is really worth a ****.
"Wise man, wise words,"
I thought, with a grin.
Grimacing at the pine cone
Taste of this gin.
So now what's the plan,
Where's my next place to sin?
I scan through the faces
Of my fellow patrons,
And consider myself lucky,
brimming with indignation.

Lucky as a duck,
To be this ******* numb.
Imagine having emotions,
God they're all so ******* dumb.

I've figured it all out you see,
It's not about you and me.
It's not about love,
or life,
or honesty,
It's about...
...it's about...

...What,
was I taking about?

It's cool to be sad
Be hip
Be trendy
Be alone

And you'll be popular
In theory

Doesn't take a cashier
To make some change
And there'll always be time
And it'll feel familiar
And it will frighten you
I think that's what defines
The proposition of change
Better now than later
Hair will grow back
These things will be different
But always somewhat the same

Even this, feels familiar too.
Unpleasant though.

Strange and weird but,
maybe I'm just
missing a piece
of the puzzle.

Ugh, I feel so sick
to my stomach,
though that is unrelated.

Somehow, although much has changed,
some of these feelings
are still the same.

Like waking up
from a bad dream,
and then falling back to sleep.

It's alright
It's okay
There'll be
Another day
And someone
Will wake you
By grabbing
And shaking you.
You'll stretch
With a yawn
And see that
It's nearly dawn
With the sun
Peeking it's head up
Over top of
The horizon.

Gone and done
Sit quietly with it
Feel what there is
To be felt

Apologists say sorry
To empty rooms
In a haunted house
And sigh right back at the wind

Tomorrow, yesterday
Time is a rippling plane
And every imperfection
Casts a perfect shadow
Across the thin veil
Of reality

Nothing matters
But not like that,
Like nothing is something
And that something
Means everything
To nobody

Make me feel
Like a man,

And

I'll make you feel
Like a woman.

Am I a ****** brother?
Guess I'll have to ask him.
Maybe when he's older.

Laughter still rings
in the empty glasses
scattered across the counter.
A bird sings in the sun,
through the open window
there's hope.

Outside looks charming,
intoxicatingly inviting.
A breeze, a babbling brook,
chipmunks scurry through
last year's fallen leaves.

But here, inside these walls
the laughter still echoes
and echoes and echoes
like ghosts of jokes told.
Like sand on the sheets,
grating, but a reminder
of what once was great.

Wet one, this year.
Fully saturated,
everywhere you step
squishes and squelches.

The sun still sleeps,
all tuckered out
and tucked in
behind grey stormy blankets.

I don't own a rain jacket.

Guess I'm gonna be a prune again.

I like raisins.

Come at me bro.