I make such effort to
reconcile what was thought
yesterday in dreams written
by capricious colors and shapes
with what was handed
down to me in the reality
of the situation.  Scrambling
through madness chasing after
issues brought forth by
parents bestowing hope to what
should really be the hopeless.

Sarte taught us better
even still it appears self
determination is not enough

Not Enough.

Those words clamor through
every facet of my existence

somehow
still
not enough
still

still
not enough

                   _     _     _

"Everything’s gonna be alright",
Words I can't understand.
So I push forward without consent
To the place where the road end.

I lost yesterday
still trying to catch up to tomorrow
The presents of today yet unwrapped,
like a child I am impetuous
I can never let go the dreams
concocted amid day light hours

The wishes to be a better man...
Yet I've never found the courage
or power to do better than I am

Children are playing elegantly unaware
of the city's breadth and all it's despair
in the midst I mutter lost in life's snare

My bottle now empty
the parkground my bed
My burned out eyes collapse
as I lay back my head

I’ve lost my muse, I’ve lost it all
Give me some liquor and I swear I’ll stand tall
Tall enough to touch hands with God
Or at least high enough to fall
Fall from his graces,
To a place where on my knees I’ll crawl
For forgiveness in damp caves at dusk
Creeping through bile, pustules and ****
To a place somewhere said in between
Heaven and Hell, it’s there I’ll be seen

Cold cylinder cradled back and forth,
Bubbles occasionally rise for release.
Sipping silently questioning my feet
And how they feel on hard concrete.
What I found was what I thought
I knew... I knew nothing of the sort.
Then and now I'd move my mouth;
Motions all at once violent and hollow.

It's getting late, we've run out of time.
A high - too high, now coming down.
Plucking stones from a dry stream bed,
Or starlit seaside strolls post dinner.

It never seemed to be on our side...

Lingering all the while on the back burner,
On which you cooked food for the soul,
A long drive ahead and a long way to go.
I'll have no reason to light that candle.

Clinging intensely to that last embrace,
She pinches me to tell me of that

                                                   "Sunday feeling".