shall i scream,
or sing a low hum?
read Poe -
or write a poem?  
the clock ticks away -
my fingers go numb;
my eyes wide open;
my voice -

so dumb.

self-deception gets
stronger, as i get older -
not any better.

brain signals for blood:
a freight of the past revs to life;
generational curses come on board the ride
with their hefty baggage,
and roughneck IDs;

the nervous conductor lets them on -
offers them a ticket, and sighs -
‘this too shall pass.’

the piano plays a song, sublime:
i believe it is a hateful crime -
to remind someone of a battle lost
fighting for a love, that was out of time.

a ;
a .
a ?
some - – —
an ‘
some ( )
a ,
an _
a few ‘ ’ " "
the rare *
the gaping ...
some [ ]
some { }
some !!!
and a healthy :

there you go,
you can write a poem now.

a sense of desertion
combined with
a sense of purpose
is a lethal combination;
false, or true.

a gust of wind sweeping through
an abandoned campfire,
in the right direction
(𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦)
will take down the
entire forest.

they say, 'it's all in your head...'

i ask, 'where else is it supposed to be...?'

butterflies flutter -
reach for the nectar of life;
winds change direction.

stream of consciousness
carves a river, unknown -
ego takes a dive.

drop of blood in fire,
trickles down the flame - loyal;
the covenant smirks.

you pay the levies
you grant the deceits

you fall behind
you fall from grace
you freefall

you get what you deserve
you deserve what you get

you take your time
you partake
you mistake
you get the point
you get by

you yearn
you learn
you lone
you moan
you atone

you know the stakes
you do what it takes
it’s all you

sticking to my guns,
i never realized that
they’re pointing at me.

death is humble;
death does not discriminate;
death is everything,
but life.