My Office

Veneer and gear cogs orbit my sky eyed bored writ
Face, fuzzy bottom trace rings masculine tell bells ‘cuz
I’m lazy, not hazy on congeniality or veneer reality.

This cube main lines fake hued bane mines and vain finds
Purchase on surface of brown turf dust or brick fur guts.

Higher dimensional inertia
Pulls
Until the universe shatters.
Spitting our matter as so much
Dust
In the beams of light
Shining through windows of
Consciousness.

Shards pass through other spaces
Surprising apes with strange
Lights
And images of little green men
With big heads and no
*****.

A good night’s sleep
Alongside a loved other
Unmarred by expectations
Unmolested by human minds
Moonlight and soft breath
Dreams and thoughts
Soft whir of a fan
Drawn down
Until…

And from the sky came rain
Not voices
No angels or demons
No face in the clouds
Just rain
Dampening sound from scream let free
Frustration given the reigns
But he's still alone
And the sky doesn't give a ****.

Ignore the signs of mental state decline
I’m fine is the typical reply

Depression is used so often that the word
Loses meaning as quickly as the life its leaning.

And isn't that exactly right?
You get one word to describe your problem
Your feeling overlooked, alien, lonely, and sad.
And society makes that word as useless
As all the others you scream at no one.

Makes me want to burn the world down.

Rorschach sounds test door lock found
watching ninetofivers run the hamster wheel.
I could complain
that would be sane, right?

Efficacy of coffee in drawing truth from words
belies belief belittling lies obvious strength.
Who are you to say “light"?
Just another dark eyed zombie echoing societal platitudes.

The days ways say stay to
the ***** of the broke brained overweight.
Hunger in the eyes sunder intelligent minds
beneath the crushing hand of expectation.

Buy me a sliver of happiness
Or was it
Cry me a river of helplessness
Memory fails snails snotting up rails
that funny ******* find with palm’s hand.

The throat choked by quotes from old poets
Grows dry and hoarse
Old words do that
Dusty and crusty
Musty and rusty

Soothe your throat with that
New style rap
And let your mind
Flap free from the
Constraints of tradition.

The throat choked by quotes from old poets
Grows dry and hoarse
Old words do that
Dusty and crusty
Musty and rusty

Soothe your throat with that
New style rap
And let your mind
Flap free from the
Constraints of tradition.

The scientist turns its head away
Horrified by what it saw.
“they eat everything!”
It exclaims, attention shifted to the other experimenter.
Imperious and dispassionate “yes" is replied
“they reproduce voraciously as well.”
The smell of *****
“apparently” it continues “consent is not considered”
A whirring sounds as the observation window closes.
drowning out the weeping from the habitat.
“what should we do?” shudder “the suffering….”
teeth glint
“yes, life is suffering for them.”
Dismissively “send them to that 3rd planet in the backwater system"
Sudden purpose “should we give them the test?”
A chuckle rasps “yes, give them 3 gods and see if they figure it out"
Fear flashes “I hope they don't.”

“You can’t have your spirit broken
If you have no spirit”
Wisdom
Because what am I fighting for?
Or better, what is there to fight for?

Legacy is just vanity
Success is just greed
Making the world better…. For who?
Truth, justice, and freedom are social constructs

Purpose, spirit, resolve
Just hollow comfort in a world
Full of apathy
Or empty of everything…

Love
Too on the nose, right?
Poetry is supposed to be written
By tortured souls with esoteric leanings and
Only ever alluding to the idea
That all they need is
Love

I still think of you when I wake up every morning
It’s been over a year and the ripples of pond stones
Tossed into my serene still bounce my boat thoughts
And it’s ******* pathetic to admit but I’m just so sad
That you’re not with me but I still see you all the time
You look happy, happier than me at the very least.

I got promoted, I’ll be traveling more now
I bought a motorcycle to go fast and have fun
I got into more rap and edm, horizons expanding
Life is do good right now, really good
But I feel exactly the same as I did the day I said
“I can’t do this”

I got promoted so you would see me
I bought a motorcycle to look cool to you
I got more into the music you like
I day dream about you saying “let’s try again”

And how ******* pathetic is that?
You never loved me
I was a place you’d go to When the man you loved
Was ******* his other girlfriends in your bed.
And you pretended you didn’t care
As if I could fill that painful hole for you.

To exist with such truth
Of heart's chipped tooth
Broken on the stone
Thrown from lunar throne
The ache does not abate
Though forward time’s gait.

It’s been years, but your face
Still haunts.

Loneliness.

Perhaps
Nothing lasts forever

The small space
People place

Like little things
Easy understanding

But you are more.

Pacifists feign high minded morality.
It's just easier to disavow violence,
than to justify the cause you fight for.
But no more worthwhile.
Homogeny and peace
Over
Progress and conflict.

Tell the dead they're right
For not having fought back.
Let Gandhi tell you that the world
mirrors the nature of the man.
See if his wives agree.

Let Martin Luther King Jr. tell you about
the merits of nonviolence
from his martyred eversleep.
Ask Genghis Khan if his legacy is great.
Ask Alexander The Great.
Ask George Washington.

The few successful pacifists
Are remarkable.
Because they were successful.

Rotations and revolutions
Counting convolutions
Of causality and expression.

Time

The fickle nature of reality
Surprises me
The moon sliding past the horizon
Shattered my world

Memory of a hard soul
Frozen by such a long winter
Brittle as thin ice
Gravity of her near approach…

As I slowly slide down steep sided peak
The idea occurs
“Is purpose portrayed in progress?”
The mutable perspective of time’s fickle trickle
What experiences we lounge in
Slow boredom
Slippery distraction
That glacial crawl past pain
The ever fleeting ******
Senses suppose suffering’s supreme,
It seems.

They seem happy enough
Though I can’t understand them.
The things they enjoy and value
So Alien.

I like to pretend that I’m
A stranger in a strange place.
It makes rationalizing easier.

An easy excuse
To be alone and
Disconnected.

To the ground and drown in your “realism”
Pessimistic dismissal of moon shot missiles
Just because your lust for more bit the dust.

Show me that drive to rise free of worry's ties
Let me see your grit when your lip gets split
By the bones raining down like so many stones

And who cares if you stumble on the stairs?
It’s not like there’s no hand rail
It’s not like the vapid, energy sapping, yappers
Have a real hold on those ideals unsold.

Rise strong.

Re-entry was not kind to me.
After falling’s friction fried my shell
The crater.

Steep walls rim the impact depression,
The rain slowly fills it.
One day I’ll drown, I think.

Such is the price of holding the moon
Of reaching….so far above yourself.
At least I can still see it,
And relive the ascent in memory.

Lightning and ants
In limbs and in mind.
Like fire up the spine
Or aforementioned bugs in pants.
I’ve got no chill
No glass left fill.
It’s like this need to dance
Electric shock
A tick with no tock.
But reality won’t grant
The end to need
Or greed
The root to plant.

This melancholy gets old.
Writing about it gets ******* old.
And the quiet times remind me
that I’m still alone.
I try to drown out the quiet with fans
and videos on YouTube that make
absurd promises.

But my head rests on pillows
and not the fun fleshy kind.
The lifeless, soft, comfortable kind.
My body is warmed by blankets
not a lover.

The puddles pretend depth
With muddy murkiness
Which quickly dries to dirt
When passion's fire gives birth
To love's burning star
Of hearts merged from far.

I need a loving heart to win
And a sea in which to swim
Which boils but stands firm
Strong enough for our sojourn
To home in hope's future
Where together our hearts suture.

They say I over-think things
That I read too much into things
Or overcomplicate things
The simple, shallow, impulsive
****-ups
Should lament their inability to keep up.

Even if eyes fall
On warm and soft
Smiles

Even if fingers grip
The warm and soft
Skin

Even if words heard
Are warm and soft
Spoken

I’ll still slight the stone
For seeing only you
For feeling nothing after you
For hearing the end.
That cold and hard
Lump.
I’ll still slight that stone.

Fire brain throat teeth
Frustration felt in my entirety.
Sell me something
Beat me at something
Tell me I’m wrong
Dismiss me

**** I’m tired of being the optimism of your life
While you wallow in the filth of your depression
Anxiety pills, relaxing scents, and dreaming peasants

Skeletal fingers grip an oblong stone
Cords of tendon thin muscles stiffen
A jaw set with determination
Eyes glassy and feverish

Another chuckles, circling like a carrion crow
It grips their lover's hand warmly
And sighs down at the starving man
“you'll never squeeze any blood from that dry stone”

The words uttered, shatter his resolve
He curls into that common dying pose
And waits for mercy's final blessing.

In the silt with the rot
Like such guilt shame begot

The grey black brown mud
Cakes and stains my mind
Finding purchase within me
******* the life into muck.

“**** it, let it burn”
Words whispered while
The man drowns in
Still waters.

Like droplets of blood
Slowly suffusing pools of tears
Darkness stains my ephemeral future
Swirling in inescapable fractal mazes
Until all paths point to pain

Flowery words cannot obscure
A history of failure
And futile struggling
Against constricting chains
Only further tears fragile flesh

We act strong because we are weak
Bold for fear of being meek
And when we finally sleep
Our legacy is earth’s rotten reek.

Softly
Like wind's remnants on the forest floor
Or dew dropping from leaf's tip

Loudly
Like ocean waves crashing on defiant rocks
Or summer thunderstorms raking the plains

Passionately
Like the bird sings in the morning
Or the argument between lovers

Don’t miss the chance
It may only come once.

I realized today that
I’m better at being me
Than I am at being a part of them.
Or us.
It's too easy to be the crutch
To get stuck while helping us out of the ruts.
But when I’m the stress pressed mess...
Step around.

Ever the alien
Ever the desert
Ever the tree standing tall in the field
Watching the forest retreat.

Should your heart be sliced
And veins fill with ice.
Fall not before the myth of vice
Lest your hopes be destroyed twice.

For drugs, lust, and sloth
Merely leave you empty.
It is only like the froth
Atop the waves of emotion let free.

Feelings left reeling by simple words peeling
Back the cracked and dried scab of love's lack.

Yes I’m doing well.
But I miss you like a cave misses the sun.
I wish I had the courage to tell you.

You're beautiful
But you don't see it
Makes me wish I couldn't either
Because you'll never be mine
No matter how many times
I listen to your struggles
And offer bad advice
You already found your love
And I’m just a nice guy
You know from there.

and I know who I am.
Like the clack of horns clashing,
Knows the ram.
Or like the torrent of rushing water,
Knows the dam.
Their intent expresses their character,
and their words expressed their intent.
Although they try,
the point remains
as elusive as line one.

The earth shook
The sky became firm
The waters rebelled

Because we live such
Brief lives
We fail to see the
Impact our heavy
Footfalls leave

And so the arrow
Strikes low
The future flows for feeble
Wisdom

The grizzled veteran looks out over no-mans land,
scars visible on every part of exposed skin.
Eyes search the horizon
knowing the next assault will come.
…you're ugly…
…you're alone because you're flawed…
…no one wants you…
Each shell lands
near enough to true
cratering my field of resolve

I just want safe hands to hold me.
To give me the peace of mind
of knowing that I won't sleep alone.
That I won't wake to this hellish battlefield.
Someone to shield me from the artillery.
Someone to fill in the craters
and soothe the scars.

Whoever coined the phrase
Peace and quiet
Should feel the violence of this silence,
Hear the savage emptiness
Try to sleep in it
Regret that time passes and the morning comes
Let it pull you into that dark hole of
Memories and insecurities.

There is no peace in the quiet.
Or maybe, there just is no peace.

The wisdom of age is caged
By rage
By pages staged in cultural serfdom.

The youthful burnt by truth's
Supernova
Of time and its rotten fruit,
wisdom, hah

So you find me between
The rage and the explosion.
Gritting teeth beneath pain's expressed grief.

Full to the ******* brim
With wearying wretchedness
Lips sneer.

Empty and entropic
Missing mutual memories
Lump throat.

Lost in this listless state
Pretending perfecting purpose
Eyes down.

Do you see that man clutching a
Heart shaped stone
Wrapped in a cloak of the world
Holding these double edged shields
Of politics, materialism, lust
To protect him from the winds of
Regret, isolation …loneliness.
It must seem foolish
From your outer space perspective
But don't judge him too harshly
He's just broken.

My first love was the sky….
All my eyes could scry were blue on high.
I couldn't stay in the air long enough to feel the sky's love

My second love was the moon…
lunatic heart harpooned by simple smile's boon.
She was surrounded by stars and I don't shine bright enough.

I tried to love the sun….
platitudes shunned and truth shot from love's gun.
Her light shined on tall trees before me so I took my leave.

When had it all gone wrong?
That young man full of song
So innocent
Full of bliss
Now broken
Alone, unmissed.

Such growth while away
Hardened in the fray
Searching for truth
Lost in fog
Groping at cliffs
Fingers failing
Losing grip.

“Push through the pain!”
They say, seeing his strain
He welcomes the sound
Full of ignorance
Now remade
All scars and endurance.

Sour mouth truth teller
Spits on the graves of
Vanquished foes
Vanquished friends
Stares daggers at
Jealous lovers
Anguished loveless.

The taste of words and grapes.

I think I drank too much coffee
I feel like a slow motion explosion
Or the incoming tide of motivation's ocean

Depression interjects
Regression to lonely obsession
Regret opposes repose, daily

I must not be human
Or just one of the few men
With no beau tied to them

There must be something I’m doing wrong
Or something wrong with me
I’m 32 and only been in love once
And just for a few months.
I guess I’m just an ******* who can't sweet talk a princess

When ice finally covers the earth
And life's last light winks out
I’ll still be the luckiest man to have lived
For having known your warmth.

I just wish I could get you out of my head
And I’m terrified of moving on from you
Because how could I reach a higher peak?
And how devastating would a fall from such height be?