I am by no means happy.
Thorn born and ludicrous all my joy.
what is sweet is salt
and what is salt is sleep.
And what is Sleep but an anvil
to believe in.
I hammer loss. ***** at the throat
of a forgotten opera.
all days are the end
as all my honey blacks
where the white theme of a blue world
bleaks the withering
of my constant debacle.
I come from a hell in myself
but choose to linger among you
like a mockery of the same.
Too many stars
and too little light
to conjure them.
broke where it counts.
slumming in the forge
of my misery
as all unbearable love
defies the answer
to a quiet
numb.

I close my eyes to find you there
and find despair
I open my eyes to see you’re not there
and find despair.

My house is an empty home
made of stone
without you in it
I become a cynic.

I look
and see nothing
so I shook
any feeling of loving.

Life is pain
life is sorrow
so I watch the rain
and pray for tomorrow.

that ad on my porch is like smoke preaching fire to an ice cube.
got me hot, ironically; all of me purging a T.V. Dinner.
some of my best jokes are Friends.
but nothing sells *** like a useless needful thing
on a loop.
I Can’t Believe It’s Not Marginal!
we’re all in,
barking mad at the cathedrals
of our perpetual sieves…
sifting through giants as granular
as a perpetual
Scheme.
the bees keep dying,
but we’re selling Biaural speech.-
to a hivemind. squandering the verity of a reason
buy shilling the dream of a better Whatnot
to not have a Nonesuch
in the bargain
of our
Stupidity
versus
the entire peach
of our wanting.
stone pit gleaming
like a Disco Ball
At the heart of a Lie
for a Human.
as gullible as
Alive.

Oh, you got jokes now? did I inspire you?
my inner cleft palate, too savage for your average villainy.
Oh, I get You...
Ghost town deputy -
slapping tickets on my flow.
but
I don’t know you though...
just so you
Know.

my wings sting hornets
cloistered in an endless performance
of how we love things.

troubadour magic
where the windmills are
semaphore

balking at the Fascist storm
of your prattle.
to make battle
with young stars
more golden than
your Solution.

more than your binary coffin spittle
in the wink of a furnace in the palm
of a shell game alchemist.

but with all
the jewels
you can’t
leave
with.

because I said so.

Submarine sailing
subaqueous submersion
floating through darkness
resisting radar
circumnavigating sonar
avoiding armada armageddon
torpedoes armed already
silent running stealth mode
eliminating unnecessary sound
surveilling would-be attackers.

Submarine suffering
sapphire scenery brings beauty
obscuring obsidian vanishes viewing
blinding black proximity paranoia
observing the unknown
behind titanium walls
contending colossal tentacles
extending from my kraken mind.

Caterpillar crawl
underwater undulation
supplies sparse
a city is needed
shore seems nice
party port
reconnaissance recognized
rejection redeployed
pebbles tossed in the ocean
sink to the bottom
but never die
and start submarine sailing.

Childhood chills
sledding down hills
adrenaline adventure
barrel to the bottom
sensation celebration
reluctant realization
arduous climb back
ascending again
legs languid
exhausting escalator
planting a flag at the peak
finding breath in fresh air
inspecting the landscape
made for more
hills become mountains
formula for faster
avalanche astronaut
garnering Gs
the bottom bottoms out
cavernous canyon
can’t climb back
ground too uneasy
shifting environment
hazards harass
some keep sledding.

Scared of the silence that presses
Clinging to you like my too tight fitting jeans
Suffocation isn't a possibility
It's a reality
Left gasping and grasping for air that will never come back
Trying to speak the truth
But the language has abandoned me
I'm not writing
I am thinking
Trying to think away the silence
I am drowning

Waves of sadness make me hostage.
I’m broken down, taxed, and can’t pay homage
to the ones who love me because they won’t exist.
My determination? Destitute. My drive? Despondent.
I’m tired and tied in *******; beatings make me blind.
Fearing too much of being not enough; timidly
with flight or fight, I’m frozen and stuck behind.
Losing my hope is a snowball decreasing
my peace of mind, but increasing proclivity
for this piece of mine to knock off a piece of mind.

The terror taking thoughts as I tear a wrist.
Mentally. In my mind, I paint vividly.
Nothing. My writing lacks imagery;
temerity isn’t consistent and it’s not fair to me.
With this life, I feel disparity. Please stop the abuse,
it’s not even a rarity. I need care for me.
The blues keep playing until tears produce.
Smiles are only arriving rarely; numbly
I’m barely feeling it a little bit.
I’m neutral, where’s polarity?
Prosperity? I’m probably spilling it.
Making a mistake seems so scary
when its dreams, seduces, and reduces,
your will to go on because of the bruises.
And when I take another hit squarely
to the chest, I’ll just cry and take another hit
to the chest, until they’re enthused and I’m used.