The moon and lamppost lead me on
To lighted windows and blue neon
Inside, buzzing freezers filled with trash
Guide me to my gleaming stash.

They flash, you know, as I walk by –
Florescent figurines of this starry night
As I reach high and shadow the beam
The blades in my hand are mirroring me.

My fading face in dull silver slats
In sinister-seeming darkness cast
What remorse might come from choices here
Gives action pause and triggers fear.

Am I the darkness in the night?
Without me here, would there be light?
Am I the reason for my pain?
And the blades mere objects of this game?

And every eve I walk the streets
Beneath distant beams I'll never reach
And while my eyes are locked on high
I'll miss the light that burns inside.

I seek a source of light so stark
That I am doomed to stalk the dark
A lonely trek, I'll never know
That every human heart does glow.

Drooping bows,
Touch the ground,
With time they grow,
The willow’s woes.

His downcast arms,
Mean no harm,
Just to say,
“Keep away."

"I will weep in wetted soil,
Lest your pant legs become soiled,
Keep away! Keep away!”

I am one month from forever,
Caps and gowns and then forever,
One night from a breakdown,
On my knees and now I’m face down.

I am crawling towards tomorrow,
Never now, always tomorrow,
Reaching out toward the distance,
Come so far, I’ll go the distance.

I am slowly drowning in
The pool of drool I’m sleeping in,
And I am dreaming happily
Of suicide in the sea.

See there: my bubbling breath ascends
To greet the earth-bound citizens,
And as they swim back for the coast,
I’m less human, I’m more ghost.

A spirit swaying to-and-fro—
The seaweed tells me where to go,
And deeper down the currents flow,
Away from all the things I know.

And when I think my lungs will burst
Of choking peace and near-quenched thirst,
My mother’s voice in mock-surprise,
“You’re late!” And once again, I rise.

Have you ever felt the pang of strangeness?
Tempting you towards the sameness,
When all of you
Is split in two:
Your mind says, “No”
Your heart says, “I am different!”

Have you ever heard the burdened sorrow?
Crying out, “There’s no tomorrow!”
And all of you,
Is crying, too,
Your mind lets go
Your heart knows nothing different.

The verbose ramblings of memory’s script,
A loquacious brimming cup to which I bid myself sip,
An evanescent longing to drink deep and ponder,
These dreams of expectation I contemplate no longer.

Time has past from my sinuous youth,
A spiraling existence of loosing tooth after tooth,
From virtuous ****** to gorges of shame,
Extensive transformation allows little to remain.

Musing of tomorrow and what turns it might take,
Thoughts to be built and then several to eradicate,
Perpendicular arms stretched out skyward,
Ranking arrogance next to coward.

The simple silence of presence’s suspense,
Listening for something lacking in substance,
A quiet moment I accept as does come,
For such a chance as this occurs consequently seldom.

How strange
That this inedible feast
Should be arranged with such care:

Place one greenandorange gourd here,
No here! And –- oh!
But there are so many
miniature vegetables to be sorted.
****! The pumpkin could not hold its position.
Well, we’ll have to see to that, presently.

This ceremony lingers for hours
Beneath the well-placed coffee poster instructing
“Éviter les Contrefaçons”
Avoid the Counterfeits.

And all the while Mother arranges a
cornucopia of assorted indigestables.