i bought us two tickets,
underneath the stars,
our plateau in the distance,
fly the wind with me.

i block the sound of crickets,
muffle right ears with my palms,
alone we bare resemblance,
together we hear calm.

i like to feel your exhale,
warming like summer fog,
let's hike from here to mecca,
have faith in our song.

voyage is illusion,
cannot separate free,
beauty is our fusion,
to air our symphony.

remember when mourning doves
used to loop their song,
hula hooping chorus grooves
flooding dew drops at dawn.

feet wake dancing under sheets,
restless legs stretch long
upon shaky knees
preceding rush hour like fawn.

metropolis blues
beat twenty four seven
like hotels and hospitals,
their pulse.

i was sloshin' through a pool hall one day,
when i saw snake eyes lookin' back at me,
and i wondered if,  i'd ever be the same.

pulled up a stool, to narrate my picture,
she was takin a shot of my go to liquor,
**** it, "hey momma, lemme get your name".

feelin like a creep, to even ask her,
she peeped my phone and demanded my password,
i snatched it back, said that secret's still full a shame.

pressed a thumb to the screen and opened up my credit,
woke up that morning with only lint in my pocket,
down a dark hole,   but out it's sunlight again.

found a note in my wallet,  still never read it,
she disappeared like a forgetful rocket,
comes once before, comes twice, now it's all the same.

to scratch my back and straighten my rug,
her perfume burned like, a desired hug,
i wondered, "hey momma, where'd you get your drug".

******* and opinions
everybody's got em'
one in the back
two in the front pocket
we're all right here...
    so mind your p's and q's.

cynics are silhouettes
dressed for the occasion
never on time
but they always try to fake it,
we're all right here...
   so heed your tongue and move.

_TRF

your "friends" that we meet,
i forget their names,
my calloused palms are greased,
by their  squeezing hands

i remember one's a banker,
or he could have said a thief,
his ******* words were flanked,
by my misbelief

i was held hostage,
you were a smiling drone,
i remember when i lost
to Stockholm Syndrome

their Heirloom Suffix changes,
on tuxedos and trust funds,
my rental wears just fine,
i'm not the danger

shorting stocks on tuesday,
while playing ball in hand,
what a shame to lose me,
busted seams this man

I am not a banker,
I am not a saint,
I cannot to be trusted,
I won't place the blame.
I am not a proxy,
I am an astronaut,
But this distant world you live on,
Is far from my plot

Up high above in the dark nights of fall,
Shines a Star that’s more stark than other flashing lights that lure,
Burning since the birth of time, hazy hindrances still may obscure,
Like bait that patiently awaits the oblivious all.

They say one is born every day, but only you illuminate bliss,
You can escape from this infinite space and when shooting make a wish,
Radiate through the hate, create a new fate, you are unique- Not a spate- and amaze everyone,
Oblique where I gaze you are nigh shiny sun.

She came, she saw, she wondered in awe, “where will I be?”
Are the words that pierced Stella’s skin written as a scrawl? Time will tell and we will see.

-TRF

Met a girl in Memphis,
home to Mississippi,
4am to Tunica or Tupelo,
I got lost in the mix of it.

She stole my breath that morning, knocked the wind out of me,
lost the lights of the discotheque,
we were pollinating free.

Psilocybin chocolates and silk *******, stars as far as eyes could see,
city lights replaced by fireflies,
the Delta's soul soothes a detoured man's decree.

Scent of perfume or poison,
could have been the peonies,
moon shined on domestic horses,
staring back cautiously.

Breeze sang static harmonies through the telephone wires,
And we whispered our hearts desires.

If you asked us,
about the world back then,
We'd have a laugh for an answer for you my friend.

Can you carve color like you crave attention,
My eyes are starving,
for a golden glimpsing,
Will we wander or will we surrender,
To the darkness,
Blinding our vision.

Will these wild white words
Garner redemption,
I'm just a poor boy,
from the home of the hits and,
Can we feel like we do on the streets of New Orleans,
Watch your glass and half your portion.

What in this white world changes?
Dust bowls now filled, aren't so dangerous,
But let's Forgo the colors and drink from loving cups,
Give your hugs to a stranger.

i woke this morning to the blues,
tired eyes can’t fathom this phantom news.

fire breathing out his window pane,
in my dream, thought i'd gone insane.

fictitious facts dawned on me,
my heart scrambled for her recipe.
  
                          So i turned it all off and ran away,
           the twenty four hour cycle versus my ten pound nemesis,
                               can't bear this brunt day after day,
            redemption songs need some bliss.

trust in me as trust in you,
find my flaws....... don't perfect them.
a little boy, i'll re-main true,
cease the fire A-gainst the wind.
casualties can't be subdued,
mind the dice........but don't crap out.
there's no ice that seems to dew,
extinguish flames, round your bout.

                                     Be on my side, I'll be on your side.
                                     Be on my side, I'll be on your side.
                                     Be on my side, I'll be on your side.
                                     Be on my side, I'll be on your side.

TRF                                              TENtwoTW­OthousandSEVENTEEN

Couldn’t grasp a report today… dear child.
My broadcast body tuned to this frequency
Wouldn’t turn the channel ‘mind so beguiled
Me and my ******* voracious tendencies
Like a blood clot in my brain these words are filed
This new sensation is my delinquency.

Let’s shut it off... and get away.
Flip the switch on my ten-pound nemesis
Can shoulders bear its weight day after day
So Long the time has come to finish this.

This child as pure as I am blight; Let’s both be free.
Don’t Plant the Red Fern angel, he has long to Grow
Son, here’s my soul, please interchange with me
Like the boy I wonder, “Where will I go?”
As I’m not so proud of my biography
Alright Jack, it’s time to Get on the Road with this show.
Hell is a library with only one book, The Inferno.

_TRF 12/13/16

In a state of catatonic epilepsy, the fragments flux throughout my head.
This paradox lays atop my pillow as I remember about baby steps and think about Bob.
I calmly ask myself to turn the lamp off, but my arm can’t reach the light.
Yelling, “Go-Go Gadget Arm”, I realize my imagination is fake.

Now gone when I need him I lay and wonder, where is Drop Dead Fred.
Anything to get my mind away from this torturous Blob.
Night and day are little monsters beneath my bed with a ferocious fight.
I reach instead for the bottle that makes sounds that shake like a rattlesnake.

After four of those, each vivid memory is as vague as the next
and the paradox continues…

_TRF

i lasso lightning
i enjoy the pain
it numbs my fingers
it bolts my brain

my smoke rings linger
but the fire fades
i'm drawn to darkness
i'm a long delay

what has come to this
indigenous things we do~
better follow the others
cause what once was fiction
now rings true

can't blame apocalypse
our letters aren't edible
and judicious arrangements
are post script letters

so i embrace the gift
that i'm a wandering wolf~
cow paths lead to danger in my book
and these sheep follow bull's ****

raw hide as a service
systems on delivery
don't follow lines of those deserving this
what has come
& what will be

You're the needle ***** to our contraception
your seed swims sick through tunnel vision
you contradict your contradictions
direct your horses to Gallup opinion

Take a sip from your golden chalice
you've poisoned our wine with Iocane powders
your time ticks of Lyme diseased malice
fictitious fortunes, SEC counts the hours

Oh Lord I pray this won't sleep off
Oh Lord I pray this won't sleep off
For You

Hide and seek little baby
I rest in piece little baby
Corn and the cob
Stalks above my crop
Combines harvest through the day

Wind down little child
Wander out into the mountains
You and me mother nature makes three
Set our picnic right here in the valley

Don't weep my sweet love
Doting eyes with a hug
Gonna rest my bones
Where the hound dogs roam
Drop a tear and a flower once awhile

Your eyes, their photo booth blinks,
are filed PDF's behind my prefrontal cortex.
Parachuting to the moon,
where the gravity god is mortal,
my stimuli float in a sensory deprivation tank.

I practice wearing my isolation blindfold,
allowing all other senses to eat its portion,
SO in time IT fades.

I close my trained eyes
in the warm water and Epsom salts,
my desolate tank of solitude,
And we are holding hands naked,
floating in your Dead Sea.

Momentum moves as rain commences like a flipped light switch

Oval drops
spider web splatter  tickles across my forehead

Each thousand thumps
Drum circles, not a rhythmic bone in these bodies
this course, wasn't foreseen

Taste buds are soiled, parole is in five to ten for them
And forget faramones
Lost to leisure

I wish I could keep you in my pocket
Not the front left pocket,
where the business cards and xanax reside or my pants,
Lent and loose change

The other one
Not the masquerade
The one that has forgiven me

i called up my momma
but she wouldn't answer
gettin' old but still feel like a child

i went to my doctor
but he just turned ninety
writes scripts with a wink and a smile

dialed the phone to my lawyer
she sent it to voicemail
debts piling up in my file

texted friends far and near
honesty is too sincere
alone i will walk this mile

eyes
don't wanna see
mediocrity

drivin' through the tunnels,
hold your breath but don't fall asleep

high eyes
wanna be free
like virginity

drivin' through the tunnels,
hold your breath but don't fall asleep

i can't be liable
for all of your pleas
the'll inseminate some
just like a bee
those falling crumbs
swept meticulously
in the long run
please incriminate me

i'm your foot off the brake
the gear's now in neutral
you can turn a deaf ear
although it will be futile
pry your hands off the wheel
while you try to escape
don't take your last breath
foreseen cannot forsake...

Indulge in chaos with an appetite of tremendous conviction.
Hastily retrace your preamble that drapes the window pane like the silhouette of a cynic,
Divulge the albatross of plight to escape eviction
And lay waste the shambles that shape a widow’ s pain beset by a mimic.

An insipid eye for uninspired lies,
She forged herself an eponymous name,
Like holding a vigil for a pessimist when in Retrospect the glass is half full.
An under-dog recounts our demise,
Misfortune subsides having only the ***** to blame,
Lack of abuse is an act of kindness,
As Jan-Erik Olsson has no sympathy for the devil.

_TRF

Droplets of rain marbles
splatter on the tin roof
and weigh hungover leaves,
anticipating summer's sweat.
Conga circles drum cricket croaks,
their symphonic looping chorus
dazes time as stars gaze.

Rabbits are everywhere,
halting but not fazed by my high beams
while the tornado siren sounds,
my cue to get naked.

Atlanta reigns the ***** and pills,
so I stay far away,
just ninety three miles south of these hills,
we can't trust me in that place.

Droplets of rain marbles
splatter on the tin roof
and weigh hungover leaves,
anticipating summer's sweat.
Conga circles drum cricket croaks,
their symphonic looping chorus
dazes time as stars gaze.

Rabbits are everywhere,
halting but not fazed by my high beams
while the tornado siren sounds,
my cue to get naked.

Atlanta provides the ***** and pills,
so I stay far away,
just ninety three miles south of these hills,
we can't trust me in that place.

S leazy people out there
Y ou Know who you are
N ever again will you roam free
C onsequences are coming soon
H earts tarnished and dying
R emember when you ***** us
O ver and over in the lair
N ow i inhale that wretched scar
I mages flicker constantly
C ows don't jump over the moon
I shoulda known you were lying
T o sync schedules with a school bus
Y our ashes will suffocate in air

_trf

Drop the *** and stomp it out,
we don't need no more forest fires,
respect the courage that should be admired,
cause wild winds bleed in closets
like back draft flames fighting for air.

Crack the door and welcome with yellow roses,
from ash colored clouds come rainbow stares,
**** phone gossip, this breeze needs to roam,
the future is bright with flamboyant genomes.

I’m numb to love
Forgotten the feeling
The way a dream slips away
From memory.
Maybe it’s the drugs
Or concussions
But it was once there
Inside and out
Now it exists as
Hints like Momento
Only scars instead of tattoos
As reminders of first glances
And perfume toxification

I’m living on the blade of a razor
While doing the moonwalk
And like Michael Jackson
I just wanna dream again
Hit the drip
I’m ready Doc

Sittin' perched upon these trees
I'm an astronaut
In a valley where wings are free
takin' time to connect the dots
Smashing clocks who beckon me
the journey is the plot  
  MUST MORE ACRES BURN ? 

     I'm high
  but I can't decide,
    where the beginning meets the end
  or if they coincide,
    I'm alive,
  but I'm on the fence,
    I can't hide these scars
  from barb wired "friends"

Let's
get alone
Let's set the controls for the heart of the sun
Let's
be free
Let's mimic the path of the birds and the bees
Let's
parade
Let's dance in the streets in our evening gowns
Let's
placate
Rid the world of our demons and all its hate.

Another haunt is arriving, feverishly fast tonight.
Somehow I managed to delay the feeling, briefly,
as it usually takes the manageable Subway and begins to fester around high noon, but today I skipped lunch,
and the feeling didn't go underground for her mode of transport.

"Maybe I hit the lotto?", I secretly questioned,
and the haunt would forget her requiem, passing over me
like those lucky "Kennedy Husbands" during the sixties' draft.
But I was getting divorced while all the other couples
were on a faster track heading in the opposite direction.

Tonight the haunt is traveling 248 mph,
on the Fùxīng Hào bullet train from Beijing to Shanghai, en route to Vietnam.

The conductor yelled, "All Aboard."
and as if that period denoted a punctual mark,
everyone manically crammed into the narrow vehicle.

The first influx of lovely passengers to board were,
Missus Anxiety, Sir Prior Transgressions and Dr. Heartache.
Unlike Dr. Feelgood,
They had been waiting in line from the previous night,
like those idiots for last week’s black Friday sale.

Mr. and Mrs. Payments Past Due cut in front of
Bills Esquire and Judge Job Insecurity,
for the Belmont Superfecta win, I guessed the right horses, just didn’t box my bet.

Congressman Careless and Deputy ******* nearly trampled Senator Surrender on the way through the turnstiles,
while Mayor Moan was flagged by security for groaning
and pulled aside for a pat down and wheelchair inspection.

The  Mayor was found to have ******* residue on his sleeve, but legitimate prescriptions for his aches and pains,
so TSA
wheeled him through the crack rocks

Analog veins pump analog blood to my analog heart;
traveling for the journey and not its hasty destination.  
My analog heart will eventually be shelved,
as it still salutes the Subway on its journey to my soul,
but like dusting off an old Coen Brothers flick,
my analog heart is still entertaining its vintage tick.

sleeping tears awoke to crimson crust & apple red veins,
eyes peering through the dizzying fog to find a faucet
& drizzle rain like nectar down the peach pit's core,
along rugged edges & oval pores,

imperfect patterns & lightning blinks
remind the second sadness to cry once again.

My swipe of crust is rusting
like a smoker's yellowing finger tips gathering paint on callouses
& cracked lips

mirrored reflections shadow gaze,
squinting to locate bronze crow's feet of a man, mid thirties,
lying for what-to die
dying to wait-for what

so sick of people talking about the seasons.
we all get in an elevator with another and feel some type of way.

ding, ding, ding, ding "what number are you again, 42 right?"

"bingo, thanks." that's weird, how'd he know my floor.

"no problamo." ****, i shouldn't have said, no problamo.
what if he's latino.

"so, how about this weather huh? 94 degrees in mid October"

"yeah, I should have extended my lease in Saint-Tropez, haha"

ok, he's french maybe. phew.

ONE
big season is coming,

AND it's coming soon,

built from the relaxation,
of our inert, intelligible delinquencies.

I bought a harmonica,
I fear what she'll say,
wind sweeps your sarcophagus,
and here's what she'll play.

poooosh, shussshhhh
poooosh, shussshhhh
poooosh, shussshhhh
poooosh, shussshhhh            

Climatic consequences
felt by us all,
we are all allies
once this pier is swallowed.

Buoys will float
down city hall,
there are no lawyers
to get us all out of this.

Are we still
talking about
the turning
of leaves?

**** your

spring
fall
winter
summer and fantasies.

_TRF
                4

temptations wear me,
frothed cloth and feathered clinch,
hallow helium exhaling smoke rings,
glass ripe with flames.

*****, *******, rescue me,
powder and fog, won't you let me see.

cut the line,
don't sweat the shirt,
this great escape,
for what it's worth,
memories,
lost to dirt,
hear these pleas,
fear my hurt.

*****, *******, rescue me,
powder and fog, won't you let me see.

with a draw i write,
forget my body,
forfeit my mind,
bring it back around,
to cul-de-sac town,
alarms wake my dreams,
i'm lost and found.

A full moon illuminates our oblivious escape.
The incandescent devil ignites our narrow path  and pilots our parcel's placement terrorizing earth's landscape.

"I'll give you $180 for your wrist watch."

"You animal, this was my grandfather's Timex, I'll take $360 and a barter."

"$240, take it or leave it!"

The moon meanders for a moment, to contemplate whether to turn a full or half cycle. She settles on a little more than half a turn.

"Fine, I'll take $240, but you're gonna lose a few months."

"Deal! Tell January, November and December to *******."

"Sold! Haha, you sucker, those cubes have been melting for decades anyways."

Anti venom pinch,
naloxone's kiss,
now standard like first aid kits,
breathless blue,
second shift's rescue crew,
those blind shadows sent Hell away.

Awoken to,
interviews,
strapped down to a siren's bed,
they asked my name,
and I just said,
will I see my son again.

      How do you explain,
      awakening,
      to a memory never known.
      How do you explain,
      awakening, awakening.

Called my mom,
and my wife,
send the lawyer to my bedside,
I'll explain,
in room thirteen,
must be a reason I'm alive.

Second chance,
that song, its dance,
rest in bliss,
my fellow friends,
addiction sees your mind to bend,
turns truths into myths.

      How do you explain,
      awakening,
      to a memory never known.
      How do you explain,
      awakening, awakening.

"this is hoffman, what's going on, where can i find her?"

"there's a nursery rhyme delivering your baby in 114."

"wait, what are you saying, ma'am?"

"nurse heimlich is delivering your baby in room 114!"

"oh sorry, i've been under the weather (chasing the dragon)."

      the fog finds you,
      it'll take your place in time,
      there is no rhyme or reason,
      or even frame of mind.
      the fog blinds you,
      it can't segregate,
      it'll capture all your secrets,
      it doesn't hesitate.
      
      memory recalls you,
      don't procrastinate,
      synapsis fire like machine guns,
      in the middle of the day.
      sensory remembers truth,
      better claim your fate,
      this ain't the time to run,
      new life won't cleanse your slate.

"jane! i'm here. how is our girl? where's doctor klein?"

"she's..."

"shush! mr. hoffman, i'm nurse heimlich. please take a seat.

there were complications with jane's umbilical chord."

"****."

"your baby's lung collapsed, causing her to suffocate. now, we did the best that we could, but the air and blood just wouldn't flow back to her heart."

"i was told there was a nursery rhyme delivering my baby in 114. this isn't a nursery rhyme!"

"then learn something from it, mr. hoffman. I sure am."

sit, relax and let your spine melt
into a cushion.
take me down to the bottom,
underneath your feet. Breathe.
do you feel it
drain down into your toes
and out your foot prints?
rest assured, that's my humble abode,
where you plant below, i stomp above.
rest assured, that's my humble abode.

we can dance on the landscape,
between the earth and undertow,
and boogie rhythms until late,
let's just not talk about it,
make peace with parasites,
the living and the dead,
do you feel it escape?
let's just not talk about it.
rest assured, that's peace with paradigms.

Crackling. Rocking. Crackling. Creaking and oscillating, a century old **Mahogany Wood seceded to the paSsage of time.
Particles of sand, confounded by the Peninsula’s chaotic, blasting breeze now revealed a shade of burnt tar.
   Outside of the second floor Maissonette, sways the rocking chair once warmed by Grandpa.
A Tactless, impatient, rhythmic Requiem Bashes near the wiNdow pane as the sunset falls Under the frame.  
                                                        ­    Empty Folklore presides like the Residue of a once lambent effigy…                                               SwOosh. Hush!
           Cocktails were a Preamble to lunch like diabetes to Nephropathy.
Corrosive Rhetoric seeped in to expose the ego of a Sommelier.
     A smile would Parachute down when you needed it like Nicotine to remind that no Precedent had been set, just an Anomaly.
                     Cutthroat beginnings, this was no Analog man.
        In grade school his Cosmos found Zion and “The world to come”.
        This baby’s Cradle, abandoned High atop a mountain was blown by a Chinook towards the Atlantic.
                “I was found swallowed in a stained Table cloth by Balkan children on a treasure hunt, with no Guarantee and no resignatIon. "
                     The boTtle narrates these chronicles and a smile parachutes down when you need it like nicotine.
                                          Dionysus Crafted his accounts while most Garnered his spiels with Snide.                               As they witnessed dream remembrance; he thought his memory was Presumably accurate, and although his tales were triFling to the gathering audience, they became his Heliocentric history.
            Calling me a young Galleon and handing me a map, Grandpa scanned his hand across the vast land
       guaranteeing trEasure would be found if I had no resignation.
               This Asinine assertion to my teenage sister Symbolized the Barring of her unheeding imagination by time and then a smile parachuted down just when she needed it like nicotine.


_TRF

Seventeen years, our lives were spent,
cleaning *** stains to pay your rent,
hiking miles as humid summer sweats,
held you in my arms, till last breath.

The soil grows doggy bones,
heaven knows what earth has sewn,
eleven A.M. I had to let you go,
now pushing daisies, you're not alone.

Hush puppy, for now  
I'll join you someday, somehow
In the morning, I'll have a grin
 Tonight these tears trace down my chin

As a canine Abby, your years were long,
one-one-nine, till we rang the gong,
enduring length is now a sad sad song,
but you're strength helps me carry on.

Puppy grub, dark walks in the rain,
lucky love doesn't die in vane,
as I pulled up to scratched window panes,
my bad day turned alone to fame.

Hush puppy, for now
I'll join you someday, somehow
 In the morning, I'll have a grin
 Tonight these tears trace down my chin

the needle drops,
our record spins,
scratches on my face,
behind a barbed wired fence.

these eery flaws,
where no one wins,
arguing on the doorstep,
about your latest friend.

red lips stick to a pause,
down on our boulevard...

it's time to go to law school,
forget about the golden rule,
children on the playground,
now we're ringing doorbells.

the needle penetrates,
my demons kick in,
these are foggy days,
black silk fits of rage.

my lips stick to a grin,
cherchez la femme...

apple red lips
stick to a pause
of silence for once

question
does not forgive
answer
and lies do not
surprise

black pumps
click like horse shoes
fading from
the carriage

another one gone,
the hour glass girl
with a perilous tongue,
whose sand is dust
on my doorstep

needle drops
record spins
chechez la femme

R ippling waves of righteous reality
E mbrace the lighthouse's illuminated illusion
M orse code to remorseful fallacies
O bscured by the damp, dreaded delusions
R ealization smashes the rocks like a migraine
S uppressing the surrogate contusion
E vading one's self who is always to blame

C onjecture overwhelms the tickling tendencies
O mnipresent overtures sing their symphonies
D edicated to torturing us caged free
E ven scores scour minds endlessly

i see your breath,
cold calling,
i must confess,
it’s shivering.

a pale dew,
from your lips,
thirty-two,
and falling.

looking back,
i’m painted blue,
your exhale
was resisting.

I am cosmic limbo
words cannot express.
I am a lap dog drowning in a pool of cat's milk
wearing nothing but sun burns.
I cut the lines when Merry goes round
below the grief you cannot digest.
Anxiety has nightmares about me
it is rumored.
My tears fall on surfaces
and explode like snap & pops.
Mini ignitions in an instant,
turn to ash.
I am a bleak reposit in your memory bank.
Thirty years of wasted land.
There are no more homes for me.
Catch you up Ricky Baker

skipping stones
i've lost my mind
can we just take a second

in this place
waiting for my phone
can you imagine

i've lost the rippled fade
i've lost the count of time
i'm deep in your embrace
can we keep the static lines

dreams
last a second
smell like earth and i fall apart
it seems
like every minute our whispers
lose from the start

It's not like....
I'm in this plain existence,
You feel....
and i breathe

Can we dance to harmonies
Can we frolic to and fro
Can we live like war and peace
Can we disco

skipping stones along the shallow banks,
my toes numb from the cold mountain water,
flowing purposefully, free to escape
& moving with pride down the ranks.

I find my mind there, in this place,
where momentum is the only answer.
I turn my *** upstream, can't face the past,
but my prior storms of debris follow, biting back.

side arm throws & one eyed aims,
embraced by lies & I'm alone to blame,
in this place where time is free,
gold dust lace must find me.

you could never take a compliment
they're buried with the rest of 'em

my mind is prone to atrophy
rewind your body next to me

no lies in our comfort zone
take this time turn off the phone

we are not an accident
don't be so incredulous

  it's getting dimmer, swimming in a shoal...
  dinner bells resound like white fog around a light pole...

heaven cannot face us
not to be complacent

devil wears my shoulder
your angel is adjacent

seven years of chances
still drowning in a basement

you could never take a compliment
they're buried with the rest of 'em

Stares from the albatross surround me,
like a helpless fish in a sea of what if's,
their soulless, solemn Should Eyes
glare into my dreaded abyss.

Curtains are drawn and doors are locked,
but Should Eyes creep through cracks
the way air and ants get in.

My spine sweats subtle weight
sending shivers down dampened vertebrae,
while anxiously awaiting another day.

WHAT IF I SHOULD?

tired of you dancin,' with somebody else,
our mirror's vision, refelcts somebody else,
fires burning, what the *******,
your desires live, on rancid shelves.

thank you for my tilted dreams,
as desperate elbows fall,
the way my corner leans.

thank you for waves that come and get,
my undertow,
the things i can't admit.

buried words lying to your waist,
your quicksand stomach,
some things i can't embrace.

better hurry, save your face,
your lit cigarette,
smokes like the ace of spades.

feed the trip,
       conduct amends,
take these pills,
       undress your sins,
fake the real,
       it's just the tip,
corner pocket,
       my eight ball's lens.

so tired of you dancin' with somebody else.

can't seem to put my finger on it, yet all eight tend to try,
there's no hidden agenda here, just my thumbs, me and i,
"your wild nights have done damage," they say,
white coats think i'll take that news sly.

can't seem to pull my digit, there's only one that tries,
spun the wheel, one through six, can't be denied,
my demise tastes like metal and was cold as ice,
so i ended it once, but decided it twice.

"pardon my late night knock,
so sorry to intrude,
i've been selected to be the bearer of bad news."

"what is it officer?
what are you trying to elude?
i didn't see this one coming, not one of the few. "

"i never like doing this, but it's apart of my job,
your son shot himself in the back of your saab.

slow your mind ma'am and remember the laughter,
slow your heart, as it will never beat faster,
i understand ma'am, these desperate measures,
you will fall apart, but he wrote you a letter."

"dear mamma, there's so much to say,
you've watched my path and it's visual fade,
do you remember that time on the promenade,
when we were laughing so hard and fell into the lake?
please dream about that and not your blood soaked babe,
it's not your fault, the knife was a present that day.
forgive my selfishness, don't waste a tear,
my wrath was overwhelming, even for me to bear.
by the way, if i wasn't man enough for the blade,
i loaded dad's little snub nosed 38."