We all know the sound of a gun
If we haven't heard one,
We've heard one in the movies.

A staplegun
Snapped me back from daydreams
Of Matrix offices and warehouses
Hole-punched a Tarantino image
In my head.

catapulted from ephemeral  dreams of beautiful places
(the hurricane has arrived with enthusiasm)
I am wide-eyed in impenetrable darkness
it is (always) such a chore to breathe

but I feel a beleaguered joy in the face of death
for he has come lithely through my window to lie in my bed
a thousand times or more
and lift me to his chest like a loveless child
murmuring eloquent comforts
tempting me with the panacea of surrender
the very idea of eternal love
vast, fragrant orchards of light that never go out
and a thousand times or more I have declined the invitation
(indebted to a handful of beautiful people)

and when the morning creeps tentatively in he is gone
retreating through the mist
taking with him the cacophony of storm
leaving me in languor
indestructible silence
to make a slow and painful rise from tangled sheets
and carry through an August day
an ethereal presence of an eternal June

I am going crazy
I am going crazy
Sands slip through my brain and scrape
I tense and twist
The feeling still lingers
Pushing me
I'm run over by a speeding city bus
The stench of sadness
Collects on my clothes
Weakness holds me down and back
There's a subtle aching tone
A call to end it all
Getting even louder

dear red,
you are becoming quite excellent
at discovering human's motives
not that they are that hard to uncover...
every man
is looking for ***
despite the route he takes
through cooing
or
beating
and every woman
is looking for
something
to make her smile
for a minute
because we want to be sad
afterwards
so we can
cash in on that
sympathy
gift card
ultimately,
we are
selfish
pieces of ****
and this is why
i want so badly
to believe
in god