too drunk to blog
allow me to send my inebriated thoughts
ton the temporal lobes which halo your ears
I spend seventeen seconds spending spent time
on times spent wallowing in the too many you're the bests
genesis is failing
genesis is falling upon us
like snowflakes spent forgetting the times we forgot
I forgot to tell you
no matter how drunk I get
I will remember you
so let's regret the forgotten reasons
of reasonable men reasoning the realist responses
of people who forgot to check their phones
for the second time todau

I've loved it ever since
I was a young boy
sitting in the car
heated leather seats
as my dad steered the car
in twists and turns
throughout the night
He could get that car
to move so fast
smoking his menthols
the smoke wafted out
like a cartoon
it formed a finger
and entered into my nostrils
I was hooked ever since

"Look what I stole from My dad"
Martin was vibrating with the deed
A card pack
colored red and white
filled with instant bad ***
"You have to inhale
when you light it"
"I know that jack ***"
the cherry sparked up
and I took the first drag
It was like inhaling
boiling hot ocean water
cough cough cough
holding it out
Martin took it carefully
like a black widow
and put it to his lips
basically the same reaction

We smoked a few more each
and got sick
I walked home
sitting on my bed
the biggest head rush
crashing against my skull
I passed out on my bed
lights on
fully clothed
and in love

Don't be a human being
be a human doing
inspirational fallout
raining on the students of my high school
human doing
it's a funny notion
viewed in plain sight
it meant Carpe Diem
it meant go to college
your valuable brains
crammed with academia
get a job
work your way up
it's the American dream
it is your
Manifest Destiny
meet a swell girl
take her to a chapel
cracked church bells
shattered stained glass windows
now knock her up
you've got a family
better start breaking a sweat
get that promotion
buy yourself a nice suit
because you earned it
******* it
pay your taxes
keep on climbing
up up up
the tower of babel
rack up some zeroes to that pay check
vacation time and comfortable insurance
plus you get dental
year after year
and before you knew it
you're an old guy
your belly has grown
far more rotund than you planned
your wife resents you
because she relies on you
and you don't understand your children
the job has grown bitter
a double shot of cheap bourbon
only it doesn't burn as sweetly
on the way down
and when you feel like
you're enclosed in a tar pit
black liquid creeping down your throat
and up your nostrils
take comfort in knowing
that you were a human doing

Sometimes I'm afraid of sounding pretentious
But don't get me wrong
I like *** and drinking and drugs
and a whole bunch of other dumb crap
and I will always find
farts to be funny
So there
I'm not pretentious
just a little kid
trapped in a pretentious body

Turn your music down
stop listening to that stuff
are you taking drugs?
I wish you would talk to me
blah blah blah blah blah

Go to school
you can't be in a band
Take this seriously
******* it
do you want to be broke?
do you want to throw your life away?

Maybe, what is it anyway?
for the land of the free
We aren't given a lot of choices
you go to school
you go to college
or you get a job
you contribute
That's a joke
it's not contributing
It's slavery
well not me man
not me

*** Drugs and Rock 'n Roll
that's my life
and I have to fit the part
Besides
It's not like my parents
check the liquor cabinet
I'm going to make it man
going to be the next legend
Woah this stuff is strong
and I'm feeling sleepy
so... sleepy...

got my bags packed,
about to hit the road
looking for different pastures
the less green
the better
give me gray
and thrashing black
explosions of red
like heart attacks
not a quiet moment
for the man who never sleeps
we have the city nights
so walk down dreamer alley
and find the ***** kids
smoking funny stuff
and throwing back fire
you can buy any type of shot
down at the gun shop
and for five dollars
you can buy a kick in the head
in wine form
so let's get
even more lost than we already are
and wait to be judged

I'm an old western gunslinger
but in my old big irons
slung low down on my hips
I don't load metal slugs,
I load slugs of apathy
ink, irony, and bitterness
and I always keep one bullet
tucked away for myself
but as for the rest of them?
well, it's people season
and I'm one hell of a shot

Walking in the rain
it has this cleansing quality about it
so I walk with my face pointed up
and open mouthed
hoping to wash away
the sins of yesterday
with a one two step
I march down endless concrete sidewalks
counting each drop of water
as it splashes against my untied shoelaces
laughing like a little kid
splashing in the puddles
because rain means new beginnings

Circling at speeds too fast to blur
the edges are edged out of peripherals
tick tock spoke the clock
as laughter erupts from the hungry bellies
of a million explosions waiting to happen
breathing out fumes of cough syrup
saying things like
I am so ****** up right now
wading through the *** of honey
to rescue the husks of dead flies
fists firmly grasping nothing but air
the message in the bottle is blank
close your eyes and open your ears
the fire is about to die
like us it too craves oxygen
which is ****** out of your lungs
with each couch depressing sigh
summer fades into snowy winter
in the blink of an eye
and the clock still sits on the wall in judgement
tick tock
tick tock

Time is the enemy and the instrument. Time's hands always ticking away like laughter. It was that same laughter which led me drop out from college. The same laughter which keeps me up to the early hours of restless nights.
It's hard to live a life of uncertainty. It scares me to think about the breaking point. Even though I don't know where it is. Will rock bottom be made up of steel or quick sand?
I feel the need to connect with other people. But other people can be fickle, annoying things. It doesn't matter. This life I've found myself in requires solitude.
I fantasize a lot about piling my clothes and belongings into my car and skipping town. where ever you want to go ahead of you. All troubles, responsibilities, and worries behind you. Just you, the gas pedal, and the roar of the black asphalt rushing beneath you.
strange times are ahead. Good and bad. tragic defeats and well earned victories. And all of the kickings which come with. I am **** excited

And if the man from on high casts his eye upon you
you shall cower when faced with the reflection
A bird sits on a car side mirror
not alarmed by overwhelming footfalls
keeping rhythm with feet beneath desks to the universal drum track
white rabbit is peaking in the next room
while a scene of horror plays out
to be gossiped over intermission
you stand alone
in a small, dimly lit room
candle flame flickering against cream wall
ritual
your neighbors won't stop screaming into sofa cushions
as you laugh til it hurts on rerun avenue
go out and get after it kid
by this time tomorrow it'll be gone
whatever it is

Those were the days
before I knew about money
and before a relationship
seemed so **** appealing
those were the days
when we still had play time
twice a day in the school yard
and played guns with our fingers
bang bang you're dead
those were the days
when we were chased off of the farm
for climbing the bails of hay
angry farmers in tractors
those were the days
when my mother wanted me to come home
she would yell out of the front window
and I could hear
all the way from the church wall
those were the days
when summer holidays
meant the ice cream man
and making dens in the woods
those were the days
when my dad yelled at us
for writing obscenities
on the walls of my tree house
those were the days
when we would race up the tops of trees
not knowing how we would get down
those were the days
now just fond memories

My dad always had a belly
from the back you wouldn’t have thought he was fat
but once he turned around
you noticed he carried boulders in his beer gut
and it made the best pillow a 4-8 year old boy could ask for
I told him that at night before bed
my head on his belly
we used to drink apple tango when we went and walked our dogs together
every weekend morning
Daddy wasn’t a rolling stone
but he was a man of business class transcontinental flights
important Dr. Baxter
he helped with my homework
because his patience ran deeper than most
but he was a volcano of suppressed emotion
one small **** up away from erupting
back when we were kids it was scary for my brothers and me
now we laugh about it
we’re all taller than him now
But I still remember living at the Sheridan for 3 weeks
all of us ganging up on him in the pool
the way he picked us up and tossed us with ease
a 5’6 210 lb man
and I remember all the fights
the last minute flights
me hiding in my bed with my hands covering my ears
him so quiet and rational
my Mum so explosive and passionate
I remember her crying on Christmas eve
when I was sneaking outside for a smoke
I remember anger and numbness
I wrote him a letter once
I never sent it
I remember how friends and family used to tell me how alike we were
how that went from a good thing to a bad thing
I remember meeting his dad for the first time
the other Harry Baxter
and I remember not liking him
I remember when he stole all of our money and left my Dad for a second time
I remember wanting to beat the life out of that old man
I’m still hoping for the chance
I don’t remember the boarding school he went to
or the brothers and sisters he never got to grow up with
or how his mother called me “the boy” until I was old enough to read
I remember being so angry at myself for not being able to be angry enough
but It’s been a while now since all the drama
and I’ve had time to think and cool off
and ******* being a Dad has to be a tough gig
but he was always there for us in some way
maybe not to talk about heartbreak
or life long dreams
but my life has been relatively easy
and I never found myself wanting
He is a strange, quiet man
nobody is harder to shop for
Mum always used to say his hobby was his children
and I get that
I mean, I’m still here
and I think that means he did something right

hold on to the small victories
these are the hand and foot holds
that your survival clings to
there will be an avalanche
rock slide
mud slide
of rejection and doubt and defeats
but these small victories
a comment from a stranger
or something greater
have roots which run deep
and at times you have to say
kiss my animus
*******
and hold on
like your life depends on it

Don't even talk to me
about your ******* cat
I don't care
actually I do
I hate your cat
everything about it
Is that what you have to say?
is that all you came up with?
I want to hear
about your flaws
your contradictions
your addictions
your love
your long drawn out ****** struggle
I want something real
something which makes me more human
more alive
more prepared
emphatic to your apathy
I really am
but for the love of God
never talk to me
about that stupid cat
ever again

Hungover
too tired to move
too anxious to stand still
the taste and smell
lingering
as malt liquor pours through pores
the sun is daggers
and every step upsets a new joint
the customers at work -
******* with dollar bills for faces
the surgeon general wouldn't advise you
to operate that motor vehicle
hungover
because some nights
have a harder time saying goodbye
than others

my younger brother is getting older
and as life unfurls before him
like a long day at work
on a cold winter morning
I hope he has it easy
and fun
I hope he has it the way he wants
as for me
don't think of me as a person
naw
think of me
as the childhood memory
you repress
and don't know why
think of me as all the advice you never took
the sheep which you sacrificed for crop cycles
the facebook pictures
you'd never show your parents
the *** you're ashamed to say you like
the drugs you're ashamed to say you need
martial law is in place
and the revolution starts in your gut
so **** the fire to your forehead
and shoot rainbow shots in the faces
of all of the wrinkled suits
behind storefront windows
pull out your teeth out
and plant the speaking tree
mocking birds die beautifully
and I'm in the mood for a funeral
one day
we can all explode

Medicated through calming hushed tones
stating that everything is fine
everything is going according to plan
but in the back of my mind
I feel it pulsing
the feeling that what tides me over
is not going to last
and that one day
all of the smart choices in the world
won't save me from the serrated teeth
of the beast
which stalks us all
from womb to tomb
the cackling maniacal laughter
of an abomination set and ready to feed
on your mark
get set
flee
flee from the path which leads to slaughter
flee to safe havens of solitude
flee to the crowds
lose yourself
to the thrashing ocean
of accepting the free fall
the ground won't hurt worse than the sky

I think that sleeping with somebody
(I actually mean sleeping)
Is so intimate
Because,
Your partner
Could wake up
In the middle of the night
And **** you,
But you trust her
Not to

the first thing you notice,
is the smell
all of the water just gets recycled
and it gets so *****
you can't see through it
the tunnel smells the worst
where the cars come through
and the laundry station is
I either get told to punch in
or that they don't need me
go to the break room

then maybe a car comes
probably not if it's a Monday
or if it's raining
but suppose one comes anyway
you get told to jump on it
pull it into the tunnel
then run down to the other end to catch it
pulling it onto the lot
you check what kind of a wash it is
if you're lucky
it's just an exterior
but let's be honest
it's probably going to be an ultimate
upholstery coated in dog hair
that the over privileged
WASP
stay at home mother
pesters you to get out
no matter how many times you explain
it isn't store policy
we don't cover dog hair ma'am
maybe her toddler spilled an entire happy meal
into one of the side pockets
you do a ****** job
she'll probably stiff you anyway

you're out on the lot
for hours
just making the same clockwise motions with your hands
over and over again
this can last for hours
then it's back to the break room
where the bosses cut lines of coke
off of the managers table
the place reeks of something
the IRS wouldn't like
you're there from 8 to 7
and you're lucky to get 5 hours on the clock

You get home
and the smell doesn't leave
and the first thing you want
is a drink
or a smoke
preferably both
and you want to sleep
for hours
sleep away the lesser moments
and the bigger one
but you know
you have to wake up at 6:45
to drive back over
and do it all again

I was forged in the pages of books
where I hid from the life I was living
they called it fiction
but, ****, it all felt pretty real to me
I was the shadow of every character I threw myself on
on rainy Monday or beautiful Saturday
So I hid away in my room
patiently waiting for something
I might never know
with a spiral bound notebook full of all the things
I couldn't say out loud
It all started with a dream
I wanted to steal the shadows of kids just like me
from NA to EU
Africa, Asia, selah
So I hid away in my room
full of all the words from all the books I loved
and I gave it a shot

If I were a praying man
I'd pray that every athlete or actor -
Who held out on a deal
Because they wanted more -
Would get every type of cancer

If I were a religious man
I'd wage jihad upon
Every company which values
the lives of workers at pennies per hour
So they can sell excess to the poor
And watch them **** each other

If I had a god
He'd smite every shark
Which took thing of necessity
And turned them into poker chips
So they could pay tribute to a false idol

Yes, maybe these things could happen,
But I'm not a religious man
I'm a drunk/high man
And these thoughts
Are just a night's sleep away
From being forgotten

This might hurt
these words that blurt
out like a volcano
with debris to throw
raining down
onto the town
taking no prisoners
like an unholy visitor
why am I angry?
because sometimes
it feels **** good
because sometimes
what under my hood
likes to heat up
when I feel beat up
not physical
not mental
just a broken principal
and the hounds are set loose
I don't control these words
they control me
which accounts for
sketchy rhyming patterns
which I don't believe matters
leaving form in blood tatters
these words attack us
and sometimes
I want them to hurt
to scathing and scalding
because it lets me know
that I still care

I was just,
Covered in puke,
And toilet water,
You don't know gross
Until you have to clean that

the diner closed down
a sign in the window
but i'm still hungry

In Los Angeles It is illegal
for dogs to mate within 500 feet of a church
and if that doesn't make you
want to host a dog ****
in the middle of an LA church
right next to the holy water
then I don't think we can be friends

I was told once
that I should take things
just a little more serious
and I seriously considered it
for about a second
before the realization came to me
what's there to be serious about?
we live in a world
in which
the human experience
has been mass produced
packaged
and shipped off
to millions of televisions
around the world
They took serious away from me
without even asking
they made this life into a farce
we spend it all
racing to see who can dig the deepest
like children
until we dig too deep
the soil walls around us
give no footing
and are closing in
faster then calculated.
how can I be serious
when being serious
means a life spent
digging my own grave?

The dining hall was empty
all the smart people
were either in class
or still sleeping
at eight o'clock
the food is fresh
but still tastes like rubber
and the watery coffee
doesn't do anything
to shake off the waking dream
the faces of these people
all say the same thing
"what the hell am I doing up this early?"

no matter how well
he thinks he knows her
he always can find
some mystery
when he looks into her eyes
they change from brown
to hazel to green
like a mood ring
he loves her crazy
so much so
that he is far from sane
so unpredictable
she kills him again and again
only to revive him
and he loves it
loves the way
she looks back at him
and he isn't sure
if she'll kiss him
or set his bed on fire
say what you will
it's always nice
to have
some mystery

Isn't it very strange
That the majority of humans on this planet
Are right handed?
I mean seriously
Out of seven billion people
Over three and a half billion
Are right handed
And I wonder
What part of our genetic coding
Dictated that
The norm
Was for people to rely
On their right hand

it's funny
how much I revere you
how much I want to dot you eyes and cross your teeth
to all of my friends I sound like a corny school speaker
ideals, ideals,
ideas of fighting some good ******* fight
but what have I won?
what have I fought for?
isolation?
anonymity?
I dropped out of school for you
threw myself to your will
drank what you gave me
smoked with no complaints
and I've never felt so much of a need for validation
and don't act like i'm the bad guy
you're so fickle that I can't tell if you're coming
or going right out that door for some other schmuck
with less to say and a pair of skinny jeans
I'll drink you off tonight
******* out of my system
let go of you for a while
before I come crawling back to you in the morning

There was this girl,
she consumed him
so completely
that he loathed her
he loathed her
because he knew
he could never actually loathe her
even if she set fire to apartment
while he was sleeping in it
he want to an addict meeting
the circular discussion
fell on him
HI,
My name is blah blah
and I have a girl problem

Walking past businesses with their doors wide open
letting the spring air permeate the room and vanquish
the lingering taste of winter
I’ll have what I always have - only make it iced
an ice cream cone is melting in the gutter
and I can almost hear the five year old girl crying for another
all of the colors of this worldly palette now so vibrant
take the blinders off of my eyes
and let my heart dance to rythym of far off shores
I’m smiling because the birds stopped shrieking and started singing
I write the same five or six poems over and over and over again
but I dress them up in different costumes
I’ve always loved acting the noble fool of endearment
I have to move my car in 40 to avoid the ticket
but I might just see how far that ***** little hatchback can take me
to avoid my roots going so deep they dry up
listen to love
listen to rage
listen to petulant cries for warped justice
listen to lust
and listen to depressed realizations
listen to all of the ******* we can come up with
we love to talk but not to listen
blah blah blah
shut up
it’s sunny outside
so take of all of your clothes
and dance in your nakedness
in the middle of midday broad street
unlock all the cages
let the light in
it’s a great day for living
so quit your death march

I love this venue
that cobble stone alley
I've found needles there before
So perfectly filthy
and the place smells
like ****, *****, and sweat
And we tear it apart with every show
Me and Martin and Jake
drinking beers with one of the bands
before they went on stage
The manager came out
"What the hell are you doing?
I don't want a bunch of drunk kids in my club!
Get your ***** back inside."

Buzzing we made our way inside
God this music is loud
****** fingers shredding guitars
and rapid fire growls
like a hungry stomach
I like this?
I don't even understand it
The pit was going insane
and I was just drunk enough
were I was too
So we jumped in
punching and slamming our bodies
into complete strangers
A thirty year old man
punched me in the face
so I punched him back
and he high fived me

The crowd demanded blood
Jake was hoisted off the ground
crowd surfing a tsunami
they drunkenly neglected
that it was a bad idea
to drop into a hurricane
of stomping studded boots
But they did
and we dragged him out
blood overflowing from his mouth
we had to leave early
and missed the headliner
Jake received five stitches
and wore it like a medal
I didn't go to many shows after that

I was such good friends with last night
that she decided to stay with me this morning
waking up like coming out of a blur
panicked
check that phone
assess the damage
if you get lucky
your phone is dead
knock knock on the skull
go away nobody's home they're out
knock knock knocking on heaven's door
you should probably eat something
but your stomach won't get off
the merry go round
round round and around again
like a spin cycle
and you're always alone
but for the sounds of birds
nesting in the tree
outside of your bedroom window
but it doesn't matter
with a stomach full of one liners
you still get up
and go out that door

take this as a warning
college life is like
treading a tight rope
yeah it's easy street
but consequences
are put in the back of mind
and getting black out drunk
on a thirsty Thursday
with your boys
is fun
but Friday morning
with four cigarettes left
from the pack you bought the night before
isn't fun
and neither are lonely hangovers
and it's a slippery *****
to say that
you aren't an alcoholic
until you're done with college
so take this as a warning
go to college
and have the time of your life
but just make sure
that you don't lose yourself

The first time
that my mother caught me
smoking *** with my friend
in the backyard
she asked me
"Why can't you just
get high on life?"
and I'll be honest
I was ****** at the time
so I laughed
which she said
was the saddest part about it all

I've given it some thought since then
and it seems more terrifying
and less funny
every single day
because I have tasted life
the man on the corner
offered me
two grams of life
for forty dollars
so I went into my room
and had myself a life ******
and I never will again
At times you feel so elated
that if you stood up
on your tip-toes
and strained
you would simply float away

At times it feels as if every cell of your body
is burning with holy fire
everything is a threat
and ******* you want what's yours
and sometimes
what isn't
You feel as if every pair of eyes
should pay a toll
to look at your own
you feel as if
you just chugged
a barrel of nitro glycerin
all it takes is one lonely spark
and then
boom

At times you feel like
your whole world
was set up
just to cave in
when you are at
your most vulnerable
when you have lost all faith
something comes along
and shows you
that you can in fact
lose some more
valleys deeper
than the earth's core
lonely and cold
a hail storm
of knives

The worst times
are the times in between
the ennui
which constantly creeps forward
like the hands on a clock
when all you want
is for that day to be over
so that you can wish the same thing tomorrow
and the next day
and the day after that
hoping to maybe feel
just anything
life users don't have track marks
their cross is one made of
slit wrists and ashtrays
and howls to a God
you're not sure exists

Life
not even once

What slice of heaven
Fell down from pie skies
To fall in our laps?
Oh,
Wouldn't you know
It's a full life

Sometimes you just can't hide behind jokes
and sometimes you have to realize
that every time we feel overwhelmed
and reach for blunt or bottle
that we are being cowards
a life driven by fear
but who can blame us?
from the moment we came into this world
fear has been our third parent
so technically we're all related
Sometimes being a coward doesn't cut it
sometimes you have to stand up tall
and take it on the chin
over and over again
and turn it into the chattering
of keystrokes
or whatever it is
that calls to you
sometimes you just have to look in the mirror
and cut the crap

You are the storm which ushered in the summer
bare limbed trees swaying in panic
straining against the anchored weight of their roots
with war drums constantly pounding against rib cages
hangovers and lactic acid induced cramps
a pack a day for every mistake made out of cowardice
slip in the oil slick of too little too late
we live only for continuity’s sake
these dreams are being swept away by a river of blood
diluted with poison
so break the cameras
keep on avoiding sidewalk cracks
keep on looking for escape at the bottom of the toilet
these cold tiles feel like childhood
this ***** feels like love
this costume feels like respect
and all of this ****
tastes like your kiss

Every time I sit down
to maybe write a poem
it wears me down
I start the day off
full of last night's dreams
and draw them out
one by one
but each one
takes a little something with it
a little part of me
as I shrivel up
an emaciated shell
exhausted
there is nothing left
I crawl into bed
to be replenished
in my sleep

I prefer maybes
over the real thing
every single time
so give me a maybe
instead of reality
because sometimes
reality can ****
but a maybe is nothing
just a maybe
so don't give me your troubles
and taboos
and issues
no,
just don't
because my favorite place to see you
is in my imagination
when I wake up alone in the morning light
with a smile on my face
thinking maybe I'll go see you today,
maybe...

Here he comes,
All ****** up
A child
With a man's habits,
How can he handle this,
This genetic disease.
He just sits
With a mouth
Full of **** that
And waits for
This current night,
To be over

The campus today
bathed in happy potential memories
was seemingly flooded
with pretty girls
which isn't a complaint,
it sure as hell made my day a lot better
I'm a sucker for a pretty face
in a sundress
so keep on being pretty
ladies

The shot glass speaks arrows
arrows to tear a man down
at the worst of all times
he viewed life
not through the camcorder imagery of most
but through specific harsh globes of flesh
the eyeballs which couldn't betray him
even when life seemed to come
in violent fragmented flashes
reminding him of all that was false,
they had said it was a weekend
dedicated to a
"ruin your life sort of drunk"
he couldn't tell them
of a life already in shambles
nor of the tribulations
of developing a craft
which seems in its death throes
work seemed silly
the very idea of a boss
or a station
ultimately sickening
but still he trudged on
knowing that he was chasing
much bigger fish,
much bigger fish indeed

I have a nickel in my pocket for every time you said
no, not this time
period
take it back to another period
and spend your time spending money you don't have
none of us have the heart to say no so the sun
but the moon is a constant reminder
of the remnants of what we are
and we were
what we could be
could be a penny thrown in a fountain
where we make wishes to a God
we said goodbye to
long ago

There were children
climbing onto a big yellow
Richmond city school bus
on Forest Hill avenue
the neon cherry red stop sign
emerged from its chamber
speaking traffic
and the children looked so happy
to be getting on that bus
even though it was eight AM
and they were on their way to school
so pure and untouched
in their lack of days
it's better than driving home
after a party
still probably a little too drunk
to operate heavy machinery
but the children were laughing
the children know
life boils down to little more
than a great big
cosmic joke

I need to start driving with a tape recorder
with the words of artists bathing me in contemplation
some living, some unfortunately fortunate to be gone
like some twisted Robbin  Hood of poetry
I eat their words, letting them fill me up,
and then photographic flashes of images
come tumbling out of me
Is there such a thing as freestyle poetry battles?
because for every poem I write
I lose twenty or so to the dead smoke filled air
my mouth forming shapes and vocal vibrations
create a stream of sacred sacrilegious words
and I speak them out to the God of all scribblers
like a possessed religious experience
touching the pure face of the divine
I only mourn my lost poems

He sits on the curb
unaware of the time
only knowing
that it is night
and that it has been
over twenty-four hours
since he last slept
his head between his knees
he tries to disappear
If I can't see them
then they can't see me
has a home
but no home worth going to
and he has a 250ml bottle
of whiskey in a brown paper bag
the night is still
cold and dead
people ask him
son, is everything okay?
he smiles
he nods
he goes on sitting on that curb
kissing that brown paper bag
is everything okay?
things are never okay
he doesn't remember when he first noticed
maybe around the time of the divorce
but he has noticed
and now he can't stop
so he sits on the curb
drunk and slovenly
waiting for something
he knows will never come

These chattering fingers
are the only things which keep me sane
they stave off the tide of madness
which is never too far away

These pretty faced girls
are the only things keeping me nice
they stave off the loneliness
even if only for a night

These chemical pit stops
are the only things which keep me going
they stave off reality
and all of the ugliness that comes with it

These ****** poems
are the only things which keep me connected
shattering the isolation
an ocean of blank faces to vent at