a malt liquor brain bath to deaden the nerves
his entire body is encased in a crusty scab
hard enough that he can’t feel your smile
…much, but then…
he tries, scared eyes breaking contact
his stories are wrapped in laughter bandages
because it’s funny that the nuns
would humiliate him in school
and that his brother killed himself
by jumping off a bridge in St Paul
doesn’t every kid dream of having a bi-polar mother?
that was the brother he could talk to by the way
the other kids, well, just as mean as the nuns
a funny story alright. tragic comedy of
a sensitive soul with a pillow over its face
until it was smothered almost dead
arms flailing in desperation, muffled cries
“there is new skin beneath this scab!”
**** it.
pour some beer on this thing until it drowns

Moved up to the next level
Still on the bottom
Aiming for the top
Proving myself all the time
Doing it for me not anyone else

The frost, sets in and leaves of red have fallen.
And a cold sun beads on the stiffening ground,
Nimbus clouds, snows of down, now wafted in,
Tagging sun become louder, as ripples on pond
Are waging white with grey, dabbing the tableau,
That nature is painting with a pair of wild swans.