The sled is overfilled with gifts
Given by friends to friends,
Lovers’ quarrels have begun to shift
They dance in the streets again.

It’s a light fog, not smoke, that romances the air
We don’t have to weep for our sins.
There’s atonement to be found at the local fair
Where today is the day that forgives.

There’s hope in hearts and laughter in lungs
No beasts around to rob them
No longer trying to descend the rungs
To solve a short term problem.

I woke up on my final day
With a cut on my finger;
It’s not enough to be invisibly damaged.

I felt the heat before the light
Out of sight, it oppresses me,
She depresses me, in the distance.

Count down the time till we dine,
The paper cups rattle as the
Manic guy babbles against the **** and Nazis.
A funny mind is rotting, as I begin my departure.

Picked up by parents, carry my things, say goodbye
To the light-hearted detoxers, ending their sleepless night;
They put me in a mood worth having.

Step out into the summer morning air
My hair tossed in the breeze, pale pink and light lilac coat the horizon.
Today, my smile rises with the sun.

It’s faded, my future is jaded and
Is paraded through my line of sight like
A mangled, malnourished show pony that looks
Older than it is;
Old beyond its years, in terms of exhaustion.
It’ll be a work animal soon enough, a day laborer
With nights spent with the moon around it
And days with remembering the sun, imagining Her
Finding some other demented soul willing
To drive himself insane over Her.

Take each step one at a time, and only once,
The detoxers know this well.
Cling to the hope of getting better
And becoming whole again.
It seems so unlikely, I know,
But hope, no matter how slim the edge of it is,
Is worth grasping with every ounce of strength.
Then you can pull yourself up,
Drink from the cup,
And see the sun
Shining Her warmth with a smile.

Love or lust is
The semantics of romantics.
There’s love in my heart and veins
For the two-braided blonde, with the off-color tooth
And the smile that somehow both
Gives me chills and soothes me.
I am the earth, my thoughts- the moon, and She is the sun:
The constant by which my time is measured.
In day I think of her, at night I dream of her.
I cordon off my thoughts of her
They lead to a loss of sanity.
The right dose, however, keeps the motor running,
The eye on the prize,
Puts me to sleep where the thoughts are good
And innocent, instead of the thoughts
Where I’m lying awake
In the dead of night
Thinking of the other options she must have;
Why she’d waste time on a **** up like me,
Who’s confined to this space and can’t escape,
Forced only to think, i.e.,
What got me here in the first place.
I want to leave
I need to get out
To tell her the feeling that courses through
Every inch of me- now, while the fear has abated,
Before cowardice comes back, and I think she has hated me
All along, and the smile was forced,
The laughter, pained
The sarcasm, disguising disgust instead of playfulness.
My body burns
With the desperation of a young man’s desire.
I have to get back to her
To put out the fire from the sun
Or at least tame it;
For she can keep me going
While I’m kept here, tucked away,
Or she could destroy me with
The thought of her each day.

Take a step out of the room-
Its 5 a.m. – ****, time’s distorted.
Sit in the common area and chat with some
Restless detoxer; he talks about women,
How even the church girls are adulterous ******.
We laugh at our pains, there’s little else to do
And the alternative was already attempted,
So laugh we shall try.

Bruises heal in a day or two
But what use are smiles, a simple ruse?
A lump in my throat, I carry
These burdens in all I wrote, and now
As they fade, I wonder:
Will they return with anger, and under I go
Beneath the waves, where the sun is garbled
And its light only reaches so far down? The sound
Is drowned out by ringing, it pounds my head
Spots are red,
Am I slipping into patterns once more?
Is there a route to the surface?
Is there any way out?
Is there a place where I can freely breathe?

The battlefield fog’s denseness
Lightens at sunrise.
The moon’s light added unease and butterflies,
But the sun’s provides clarity;
I see the enemy’s positions:
Between the trees and in the bunkers, rifles are ready
To shred the regiment.
But the sun pick-pocketed their edge
And gave us a path to victory;
The fog is still there, but clear now.
.Will I advance to the objective
Or bow out in the bog of fear?

In the clock tower the flames are out
The angels grab hold of the dead.
Streets are swept with mothers’ simpers and shouts
Who’ve aching hearts and pained heads.

The beasts of burden have begun their retreat,
‘tis time to find the survivors,
And show them heart, good wine, and sweets
And forgive the sins of the liars.

The town begins its journey back to health
From the ash a phoenix will rise.
Then the town can put this fable up on the shelf
As pits of iron flash in their eyes.

Endure the day
Count hours between meals,
Minutes between carts careening past,
Seconds between shoes squeaking.
Keep the room dark to
Invite sparks of sleepiness.
Disparate thoughts run together, with only the theme
Of agony to join them:
The thought of the present situation-
Where I am.
Then the sun, She who is hidden from my view in this hell hole,
Outside these walls She’s free
And I’m trapped
And I can’t see Her!

If sight of Her cannot be
Relief could be found in the opposite;
Rest my head on the tear-catcher,
Block out the sound and
Bring the night into day.
Dreams of Her
Will have to suffice.

I no longer see the desolate plain
Blue and green haven’t any distinction
Fauna are gone, extinction is here, and
I raise up my cup to see
If its emptiness has anything to yield.
There’s nothing in the field but
Radiated heat that meets with my mind
And tries to tear it in two.
My head shakes its sanity,
I sing of the sun, my inspiration
As I am on the edge of my mental frontier,
Holding on to, not hope, but desperation.

The dark is the worst, as
There’s something harsh in the night.
I’m by myself and I hate having to await
The dawn’s first light,
The song of the birds in flight.
The moon circles around me
Around my head and in my head;
Cicadas play dead and moths surround
Each exhale of frost
Caught by moonlight.

The sun awakes me, just the thought of it
With a couple hours to go.
Each buzz in my hand is the hope of Her
Rescuing me from my trap.

Step down through the tunnel
To where sanity is the exception,
Not the rule. The reception is
Disorienting; the detoxers laugh
And the head-cases cry, or else
Silently portray the visual tome of anguish
With eyes dancing from the harsh, white lights.

Contorted bodies cry, buried by
Smiles, seemingly faked for the sake of normality.
Mutants scream the totality of their lives.
The Big Ship’s communications are grim,
Where once hope was laced in it
Now there are only omens of death;
There’s brevity in my breaths.
Guided by what seems to be deceit to me,
Panic guides my steps
Into the unknown. Dear god,
What have I done?

Asked the same questions for the third time,
Answers no longer hold any meaning.
Dials turn, eyes glaze over and burn.
Could existence move any slower?
Close eyes, lie down
Try not to count seconds;
She’s there, “watching” me.
I’d have been better off lying, I think,
As I gyrate between boredom and misery.
This short note belies,
The hours of agony
Engaged in a torturous game.

Guided in silence
By a uniform of darkness,
With no bark and no bite,
Through back passages, kept hidden
By anonymity.
There’s discomfort between us both
For different reasons, though
A weight around my wrist
Anxiety builds my fists.
Le Jeu Commence.

Didn’t get a good night’s sleep
not hungry
minimal communication on the ride over
force a smile to check in
sit in silence
get called in; say I’m doing well
reciprocate the question
nerves, thinking of only one thing
tears suppressed, fear rings in my ears
oppressed myself, he asks how
the meds have been working.
A deep breath
a shaky exhale
“Horrible, it’s been way worse
black thoughts are back
a plan is in place:
keppra, lexapro, flexeril, and alcohol
don’t know if it would work,
hoped. Spent all last night
crying in dim light, clinging
onto the evolutionary desperation of living.
send me somewhere
isolated from life.”