the cold
reality
of a painted wall
usually just a blur
in the backvision
but sometimes
you look close
focus
see the chips
the old paint jobs
the smudges
the stains
and sundry
ad nauseam
shadowed light
texturing
the otherwise
inert
to show
fiery grotesque
demons
wings ablaze
or malicious eyes
watching
what those eyes
may have seen
may best
to have been
lost
to history
perhaps
the best
are
wonder which
are not
fights
drunken pleas
bad ***
sad ***
no ***
sleepless nights
certainly a lot of
ESPN
perhaps
perhaps this
is the
last place
I will ever
sleep

I miss her
Where did she go
Her voice
The calm
Her glow
The sway of her hips
Hypnotic and slow
A classic bit of
to and fro
I assume we all eventually
took our toll
Too many wanted a piece
Just a little too much of
her soul
Wore her thin
Blocked her magic
Devoured her flow
I hope she's happy out there
Maybe somewhere
in the snow
Strange to
miss someone you don't
really know
I just miss her
sometimes
That's all I
really know

I'm tired
of those nights
staring out behind
my eyelids
across the cold horizon
of reality
The bleakness of a future
dying twilight
twinkling
at the break
Nothing but
impossible choices
and hard truths
breaking the visage
Thoughts of tomorrow
and eternity
intertwined
like
Dark Lovers
screaming
the ecstasy of a
shared doom
in their embrace
on the distant shore
The reverberations
of their
passion
ricocheting
through my skull
in a constant dull
hum
Christ
that **** really *****

I dreamt he sent
a care package
A shabby box
filled with
wall sconces
from his
******* apartment
half filled tablets
thoughts and doodles
with a note
to not abuse
substances
and a really nice
vinyl pressing of
some nineties
spoken word piece
with one or
another unknown
ska
alt rock
grunge
band
That sure was nice
of him
I must have
sent some good
psychic *****
Spirits
they call it

I think what I liked most was that she
liked me or seemed to for a time Elegance manifest tall and slim red pixied hair cool and chic another word for elegant

you get the point

She was magic between the sheets they dripped imbued with her I began to believe that she loved the idea of me as much as I loved the idea of her

But

We had agreed it was just a moment The city called it needed her I knew it

she was made for it

And yet the want it called it needed that high Insecurity and vanity won out or just grew until the butthurt set in

And we ended

All things pure are ruined by
butthurt boys

I want to cover the bathroom walls in vintage framed prints of Europe Really class the ******* up a bit with street scenes of Notre Dame and Westminster Abbey After I die they will remove the prints to find the spaces between yellowed with age or wonder if I just ****** on the walls over the years A little probably but not that high up I am not a savant But perhaps I am That would be cool Something to hang my hat on A story for the generations That old man really was something

I am
an American
******

Cruising the waves
I cruise
aside a brunette beauty
in tanned glistening nothing
with lips that taste of
nicotine and Dentyne
and portside ***
and her

Whales breach starboard
majestic and grand
Other whales breach nearer astern
aflail french fries and ranch dressing
oppressive and loud
always half dressed
in too little

Two too young girls in too little still
stride the decks
all peaches and cream
catching lecherous gazes from old men and dried ketchup kisses from
little boys
blown
astray

Breakfast at noon dinner at six
coladas and beer every half hour between
and pizza by the plate after **** drunk
*** 'n' Coke
sing alongs with Lizzy to
Billy J. and the Eagles

Santiago
Captain of the salt stripped
El Pablito
shows us where
the Pacific and Cortez
****
amid sea foam
and sea lion ****

No gracias
echoes
down
the
shore

¿Maybe some mota señor?
or
¿Candy for the nose?

Aboard
Tomislav serves teeny 'tinis to
mustachioed **** in
sport coat bravado
smoking ****
dropping the ashes
in their
frosted glasses
sipping slow
waiting
to dance
or sing
or both

thinking

about this
Miracle
we cruise