Its so hard to write
a one to two page
short story,
and almost impossible
to write
anything longer then
five to ten
pages
because the flow
will only go
on for an hour or so,
and when I lose that river
it’s hard to get back
and deliver
anything I think is good,
and because finishing a story
means I don’t get to
follow it through
any new twists, turns,
or diverging tangents.

Let the world rot
Let it sink in decay
because I got no faith
in this human race.

What a folly
I live at a fools address,
try not to deceive myself
but give so much
to touch and support
the one I love
with no reciprocation.
I live in the wasteland
of alienation
leaving with the taste
of nothingness on my tongue

I render a tender defeat.
Submit to the dudes who
manage to control you
with hateful lies.

Do you know how to love shadows
sit in a sick stew of solitary confinement
for a crime you did not commit?

Do you know the feel of someone else’s violence
the stinging lashes, reddening
rage distorting
fury unleashed
by someone who seems
to hate you
as much as they
hate themselves?

Do you know the flinches,
the constant guarding,
the tears cried
only when no one else
is in sight
cause why
give those ******* the satisfaction?

Do you know the self-deprecation
self-debasing
pretending that your pain
is so freaking hilarious?

Do you know the loneliness
of the vacuum
cause you distrust
any stranger
who might touch
you?

Do you know the shame
and pain
when people push
and claim
that you should let
the perpetrator
back in to your life again?
Do you know
how it feels
to press down
on the skin that swells
while tears and snot
stifle your breathing
after a beating,
how the physical pain  
of the abuse
seems to weaken
but the other stuff
leaves you wishing
you were never born?

I drive.
Each night passes by
cold shadows
tell no lies,
by flicker strangely
like specters
dying before me.

The road is mine
and I am its,
possessed by quiet reflections.
Daylight finds
hills that ride
and roll
up and down
all around me.

Stimulants,
set to see me
safely home,
little nicotine sticks,
not actual cigarette
of vapes
but gas station
electronic
devices,
stacked with
lots of caffeine.

Music and podcasts,
audio books
play by to fast,
they never seem to last,
because the drive never ends.

Hotels,
hot showers,
more caffeine
then overtime hours.

Until,
they settle me down
to one worksite
and that rogue
road work life
fades fast behind me.

Part of me misses
the unpredictable madness.
Part of me is grateful
for the stability.
Its healthy
cause I get better sleep.
Now I drive the same route
every **** day,
but I miss the strangeness
of the different roads
I used to take.

There’s blood in the sky
fits the tears I cry.
I walk the streets
each and every night.

There’s strangers here
but they don’t’ have to be.
I could fully engage
our shared humanity.

A smile to go,
in a big mac bag,
I’m working on
my mcdonald heart attack.
Its just that
the big breakfast
is the one thing
I look forward to.

Its an empty life
It’s a lonely place
but I never let them see
the ****** tears on my face.

Its three to eleven
or eleven to seven.
It’s a gym membership
that gets me fit.

It’s a caffeine addiction
with a video game problem,
But all I work for
it isn’t love
its just enough money
to get me by.