smugness covers only skin
but it can't cover what's within
when there's nothing left to win
why would we want to live again?

smugness smothers other men
the stuff we cover with a grin
we are the same without within
but we would rather play pretend

My car is in the bat cave,
The lower chamber's lit;
All the doors are locked,
The drapes don't leave a slit.
I'm in here all alone,
Haven't shaved for days;
My fingers need attention,
My bed is like my grave.
There's dishes in the kitchen sink,
The refuse starts to stink.
I'm underground.
No calls, no texts, no tweets.
I have my bread and butter,
If only I could eat.
I have a need to peek outside
Where the living own the streets.
I'm better off than dead,
I'll rise up from this sleep;
Don't call my name
To call me forth,
At present I'm too deep.
When time is ready,
And I'm steady,
I'll push aside the lid,
Walk from this crypt,
Abandon ship,
And bask in light above.

Each year we lose
One heart beat;
That's less blood
To our heads and feet.
This means my breath
Is fading too;
But I'll keep beating,
And I'll keep breathing,
Yes, I'll keep living
Just to bury you.

Home isn’t something on the path.
It’s something you feel, someone you see.
Twisting trees upon the breeze; memories of life
And leaves. A splash of wine that sets you free,
A ghost of heaven and its pleas.

Home is an edge that bleeds,
Gloating. It changes, grows, something homely,
Something foaming.
Something clawing for the morning.

Look too close, and there it goes,
Hiding deeper in the folds.
The edge retreats; I’ll never know
What slid away inside my bones.

But it fuels.
The night drapes, the storm breaks, the cold takes;
And it fuels.
Grueling, loathing, something hoping,
Something you want to go to at the end of every day.

And you where my home.

A Story From Nam

We were seventeen or eighteen in Nam
we became friends forever.
No more than friends.
Soldiers get closer than wives.
We went to sleep saying
I love you man.
We switched letters
For our girlfriends.
In case… well just in case.

The bullets rained
in the clearing that night.
I can still see the tracer lights.
Guys fell down all around me.
Crying everywhere.
Air power cleared them away.

I looked for Joe he was lay there.
I held him close
like a baby as he left us.
His last words
I love you man.
I whispered to him
Not as much
as I love you Man
.
I did not notice I had been hit.
After six months I returned home.
In West Virginia his beautiful girl
Opened the door of a small trailer.
She had a baby boy in her arms.
Her blue eyes welled with tears.
I passed the unopened letter to her.
I lied and said the blood
on it was mine.

She passed the baby
to me to hold
As she read the letter.
I kissed his tiny forehead.
And said see buddy
You’re not dead at all
I love you Man.