What if the only thing I believe
Is that I don't believe in anything?
Even words only have the meanings
We give to them
I wish it was more symbolically clear
But wishful thinking never got nobody nowhere

And I'm here now

I'm here to tell you
That there is
Really nothing

On this planet
To get excited about

Friends are fun
Nature is beautiful

But it's kind of
One big empty place

And people say this
And that

And here comes
Another day

Am I doing okay?

I spent alot of time alone
And I write these poems

I'm on my own schedule
Head in the clouds

And now I'm watching
Old Bond movies

Why?
Not sure why

Questions are usually
Followed by more questions

I would like
To go to Tibet
But I'm so poor

So I'll spend
In the local mountains

I'm not looking
For a full time job

Part time
Suits me fine

And I'm not moving out
I'll be here
Until society collapses
Or the end of days

Or until I'm old
Whichever of those three
Comes first

Oh you know
Life is some type of joke

He seemed the perfect gentleman, his friends and neighbors said
He seemed to dote upon his wife, attending her every need.
They never were seen to quarrel, their cul-de sac agreed.
Like two white swans they seemed to float upon Life’s stormy seas.
But Perhaps all wasn’t perfect; just a show for others’ eyes-
beneath the surface; a furious struggle;. Concealed with a web of lies.

So in their quiet neighborhood; so rich and well-to do.
They acted out contentment so that no one had a clue.
Until the town patrolman came and found her on the floor;
Victim of a crime of passion, stabbed twenty times or more.
Her husband wore pajamas that were stained a crimson red.
“Don’t bother with an ambulance- I made damm sure she’s dead.”
He sat with his morning paper puffing on a cigarette.
and on his face there was no trace of remorse or regret.

Marriage is the leading cause of divorce !

Its the things I cannot explain and never want to.
They hold a meaning beyond my compression.
And that makes me wonder like a child wonders where the sun goes at night.
I use to think the sun hid somewhere deep within a shadowy forest.
And that the wind came from the trees as the leaves would somehow fan the natural air around us.  
I use to think that after the number 10 there were shapes rather than new numbers.  
It was just the way my child mind thought without being taught.
I use to think radio signals came from the electric poles we passed by as we drove down the road.
I once found a red rock in the grass.  I took it to my room and just marveled over it.
I saw that it was and endless universe.
And to somewhat explain that I thought of looking at it with a microscope.
To see its surface magnified by 1000 times.
And then 10,000 times.
And then come to realize that there is no ending to numbers.
Thus everything is numbers.
And it will never end!

Radioactive sunlight cascading over tendons pulling under scar tissue. Carved out, flesh eaten by buzzards. If she was a real girl, she may have cried. Vultures, all of them.
Hacking at marrow of the innocent. Lilies bloom in her eyes.
Harps in the distance, church bells interrupt to strike eleven times. Glittering like a magic something in the nervous heat.
The illegal existence.
She has bird bones in her box of Him. His prints deeply embedded, even now. He smiles in her memory, flashing teeth. Going extinct.
No longer an easy replication,
but she keeps her shrine.
In her kitchen, petals start to fall in soft disgrace. Time stops.
It has been said, late at night, you can still catch glimpse of her gleam.
May even catch the kaleidoscope in her eyes. They do not understand this. With briar and rose, she turns herself into prose.