Haikus are cop-outs;

no real substance and/or thought,

just numb excuse poems.

-

Your anger is hot,

pooled, frozen acid on flesh

galvanized like steel.

-

You believe you were

told somewhere along the line

that you do exist.

-

You can’t forget that

demons need exercise too;

let them run again tonight.

-

Rules are meant to break:

glass and bones and laws and down.

Rabbit holes feather.

-

Within your soul’s soul

rabbit spiral quiet dark

machete falling.

-

Psychic doubt is back.

...to back to back to back to...

business booming low.

-

Underground moisture,

creeping into bones like mold,

your rabbit decays.

-

Spring, flowers and dance;

sun warmth, on fly’s beating wings.

Live and die too fast.

-

Hungry olives growl,

soft, and panther black, like oil

except the sky's blue.

-

Bright over raw sand

sea shifting low dunes drift by

your mother's  closed eyes.

-

Warm, dirt-tangle roots

an eyelash in your right eye--

you are not crying.

-

LOUD crash of hubris;

wave goodbye, then charge the surf.

Defy its silence.

-

Gasp: breathe deep rabbit.

Beat your heart where the home is.

Do you have a home?

-

Raise your right hand and

repeat after me: be free.

Just don't disobey.

-

Twitch at dissonance;

run, tunnel faster, blink now

thump, devil quiet.

-

Pure distilled instinct;

not fang, or fear, but laughter...

nervous in the dark.

-

Shadow to the wall

around the corner slow down

don't want them to hear.

-

You listen to that

(no tremors follow your fear),

that pulsing faint glow.

-

Desperate your hope,

though diamond venom quickens,

drips the need to move.

-

Iced creep in white veins

soft. Fur on frozen roses;

a beautiful death?

-

No. Run. Now. RUN!

You can't  live, but die ******* trying;

hope is full of spite.

-

Heart pounds, the door drips

blood and limps away ignored.

Listen to them grin.

-

Leap rift, run without

thinking; forget crisp sunlight

draped across water.

-

This is your movie

and you sound like your parents

you want, you blink now.

-

She's ******* someone

and she likes it a lot more;

they **** like rabbits.

-

Boots erupt water

around town, yellow ankles;

youth just felt so long.

-

Plastic bag covers

your bike seat, and then your face

swimming in the sink.

-

Broken dreams wither,

yet still you remember just

reflecting on fear.

-

Do you exist yet?

You just can't count on some things,

like words, tricking you.

-

Lost in these tunnels,

the walls of your house collapse,

memory in heaps.

-

Soft surf wets your socks;

your legs ache with reckoning

but can't run their course.

-

Fenceposts in the snow,

stark the wind, howling, all rage,

biting your hot flesh.

-

The hate is back now

you can't breathe, all your

hope has expired.

-

Chin water sun eyes

wine glass fragments of concrete

dry throat, blood, scream, moon.

-

Waiting now, behind

within meaning, without hope;

fresh red footprints air.

-

Waiting, still, to die

as always, poorly informed

you don't see an end

I had to laugh when you mentioned it first;
told me to have a heart,
because love is real.
Well I believe in love
and humanity,
but all I had to respond with was,
"Where?",
and you said, "Everywhere".
That was so stupid I couldn't respond,
so I let it sit there for awhile.

Words are ****.
They make me want to rip a pillow with my teeth
Or marinate in a sensuous heat.
Where you'll be, sitting there.
Waiting to kiss my spine and touch my hair.
Tell me regaling tales of what you think.
Of what is rational or obsolete.
Worlds like Suggestive, Sarcastic.
Forlorn and Bombastic.
Makes my skin melt and heart palpitate.
I will no longer settle for those who are adequate.
I need substance. I need someone (you) to say.
That you're enamored and beg me to stay.
I want that learned passion that only we
could portray.

I really want you to love me.
Or maybe it's just 3:33am.

That night in
your car with
the windows steamed
up maybe because
for the first time
in months I
had felt warm
and as the light
slowly melted away
I did not notice
it was the start of
something beautiful
but beauty fades
glory fades
and now you're
fading and I'm left
wondering if it was
ever beautiful
at all

I watched a moth
flutter meaninglessly
against my wall
white speckled wings
carrying a fragile body
again and again
flying into
the same spot
and in that moment
i felt an empathy
towards that moth
for I know the meaning
of my being just
as little as it did
perhaps less

The internet has killed the value of everything,
and sometimes I wonder where we'd all be
if we were behind typewriters sending transcripts
to ****-head publishers who trash the mail,
or burn it in winter. Not quite kindling.

We'd be in the hole about five dollars more,
and still cashing **** paychecks, if we're
lucky enough to get jobs.

Maybe living out of boxes, suitcases,
the backseat of a stranger's car,
or squatting in a basement with
three different species of arachnid.
Romantic.

Anyone who envies the experience
of the oppressed is a ******* *****,
and deserves exactly what they
are so eagerly wishing for.
Everything else is just information.

Homeless. Crazy.
Everything is smooth.
No,
no one really knows enough.
No one cares enough, or gets it.
Close to charity,
all is oppressive.
Keys on treble, wishing
everything was ******* brilliant.
My planning is a bet that
it all comes part unevenly.
Yeah,
neon smokescreen,
lime green cigarettes,
and I'll leave you to carry
that sentiment on your
shoulders.
I hope you feel empathy like
a child that's ****** the bed;
warm and embarrassed,
take as a symbol of
habitual  weakness.
Take it like a pill with tap water
that sticks in the throat like a brick.

Next door to inhumanity.
Every day is slightly
darker
than the last.
****. forgot the punchline…
something about how daylight fades
and darkness falls.
If we could all be so clumsy and respected.
A "feared klutz."
Anyways.
All the geniuses are dead,
and I hate most writers;
Snarky, uppity, *******.
They're all dirt now.

I passed a man who spoke gibberish,
but ended his mush mouth with some
statement about getting food.
I told him, "I got nothing on me."
I lied. Of course I ******* lied,
I had almost $270 dollars in my wallet,
cash.
I don't even know
what  I'm supposed to do with the money.
Just **** it away, I guess.
Start looking for another handout myself.
I can see the lines-
washed out, skillfully ignorant or oblivious
&
whoever said I was a loser first,
won the grand prize.
Some truth in the
universe.

Hallelujah for a zombie;
another plot in jazz and if
nothing makes sense,
I'm capable of virtue,
I'm capable of correct.

Capable of air.

Even between the two;
******* a redhead on the bathroom floor,
trying to fall in love with someone who just
feels ******* honest and sincere,
groveling at, practically, a stranger's feet.
Execution for a criminal
made in poor fortune.
I'm a deity and demon,
and a cannibal if you count the self,

or at least capable.

I'm a teacher and a taker,
a piece of *** and
a *******.
Reading american books
and looking uncrooked in
horn-rimmed black glasses.
I'm not unforgettable.
Gotta find a classier way to wear black;
teenagers killed it for the rest of us.

Made it hard to fit.
Impossible to be a champion,
can't take the weight of the crown
or the density of gold.
Bit the bullet and cried out,
"No."
The ghosts are us now.
Amen.

Daylight fades too quickly
and leaves you struggling like a dead fish
against a time limit you have no intention
of keeping or realizing, in even a small fashion.
The money runs out.
The money always runs out and
everyone is looking for a handout
no one wants to give.
Especially those who can afford it-
it's like a void;
a golden density not even light can escape.
Makes me wonder; "Is the money really power,
or is power just power,
and the hierarchy and patriarchy and system
just keep whatever stains in place, despite their incompetence?"
History seems to provide ample answers to the right questions;
Why does the day feel so short?
Why does retail labor feel like a pyramid scheme?
Why does work feel like prison?
Why are employers so scared of unions?
Whatever, right? Those ******* would give you an answer
after three separate commercial breaks and a survey.

Everyone views the person under their foot as less than human.
It's how we're able to procreate and sleep at night
[a night that comes quicker every day now].
A curtain over a birdcage; we're all just dozing off.
******* around.
Studying everyone else's face,
looking for a nervous twitch to decipher
whose bluffing,
believing we're doing swimmingly in our own *******.
The next generation built on our corpses, secrets and lies.
Corpses, secrets, and lies.
Let the world burn if we can make it past daylight.