In the burning right hand of the bald city,
denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings
while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups.

Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers
who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less  pizzazz
and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps
wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan?

As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head,
The dusts off my breath sing homilies
With letters of broken leather whiskey,
For even in the most dishonest jest,
clandestine toothbrushes are overrated
and every first false lie is the only truth.

What an umbrageous day
Heavy downpour cleaning soul city streetlights
unburdened back beckoned bright eye and high
The cleansing of the spirit

New rain beginnings
relinquishing old dirt and washed
all resentment that peels away like rotten orange rinds
revealing the musty moth-eaten underside of the teenage psyche

It’s a beacon of light, a point in the celestial wake of night
The true-burning ember amidst the counterfeit
glows of the day to day drudgery of a mundane
Human existence

Who cower and hide from head to toe in plastic wrap
and duct their senses with sticky ignorance
Who wander and wonder upon the multifaceted
raindrop that caresses each fleshy pore with motherly love

Who drift effortlessly
up misty parking garages
up sweaty chimney stacks
down missing fire escapes

In the tundra of weary dreary winter bite
Cold suspects stand innocent on frozen street corner

What an umbrageous day. Overcast. Raining.
Like open wounds rinsed clean to be healed by
and forgotten in time

The fractals are hard to miss
even in the gathering puddles

[written about getting high. April 2010.]

Told not to cry
Everyone tells lies
Told to be real by fakes
Don't know what to believe
All the hate and greed
Happy thoughts to escape
Never attended piled up pain
Looping thoughts stuck in the cycle
Seek of change everything the same
Open or close not satisfied
Ready to fight nothing to hide
Expression becomes a mission
Needed to said or mention
Not looking got attention
Nurtured talent neglected soul
More complicated than easy

Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.

Worried so much about making mistakes
Holding back don't want to be judged
Or talked about made a fool of
Give to others do good deeds never enough
Accused of being a cheater been nothing but loyal
Make in the world fear of failure
Not be held back over come obstacle
Doing what matters over wasting time
Dream big but not going too far
Gave up drinking sober living
So much contradiction from others
Dealing with hipocrites being noble and honest
Staying home write stay out trouble Friday night
So hard to be normal
living on a bubble walking egg shells

The morning arises
Thoughts fleeting
A sharp razor slicing a fine piece of paper

A gleam of light creeps through the blue curtains
sleep is still not within my grasp

a drunken slumber
i tell myself
shut eye

its been awhile since i've been happy.