My **** is in anonymous
kisses of some unknown shore
where the tide undulates to it’s own exotic rhythm
you can call it lust
when playing with fire becomes a necessity
working in the fields towards a better crop
in the age of reckless apathy everybody knows how to smile
having fun because it’s all that is left to do
I am caught in a vice grip
so roll up another because this room is starting to seem real
the sky is either orange or purple or something else
and my cup is far from full
you have to know yourself otherwise
when high tide rolls through you will lose yourself
to pretty cheerleaders and too many consequences
that you let slide
she isn’t very good with directions
which explains how she found herself here
laughing and saying pretty things
as the last light bulb burns out
leaving me in another self-inflicted dark room
whispering my secrets to the moon

High school was a breeze
I mean forget the braces years
and the glasses and the acne and the bone crushing awkwardness
it was a breeze
rolling around in Mark's beat up VW hippie van
Smoke trailing behind us as we tore through suburban Richmond
worrying about Mom 'n Pop's more than the DEA and Cops
and finding empty houses to drink what we thought was good alcohol
if no houses were available
we'd just wait for the parentals to fall asleep
singing pop punk at the top of every lung
rapping along to gangster rap
hopelessly Caucasian
class was a joke
homework a no go
and we'd worry about the consequences later
talking about how we couldn't wait to be grown
well I'm growing now
and I can tell you
no bed time is awesome
but it isn't all it's always cracked up to be

the witching hour is upon me
my eyelids are heavy
but never drooping
for the past two years I've been tired
but unable to sleep
without jane or jack
but **** man
those jokers will only take a man so far
and in my case it was to a lot of nights
in a bad situation - dead to the world
or waking up in a haze - unable to remember anything
but I know this double bed feels continents wide
and in it I feel small and vulnerable
there's a fine line between independence and loneliness
and I already used that line on you
trying to get you to keep me company
no ***
or fooling around
deep rapid breaths and the sweet smell of sweat in the air
just somebody to sleep with
to feel their warmth and my warmth reflected back
God
I am tired

"******* old man"
He told them to turn the **** noise down
stopped at the Hugenot and Robious light
they were 16 with cigarettes, a bowl named Willem Dafoe, and an old VW hippy van
Too drunk and throwing up in Mom's best frying pan
pain pills because they all saw an orthodontist
a camelback full of two types of whiskey boiling in the van at noon
the two headed beast spewing into one toilet
shrooms
acid
DMT
all chemically hard to pronounce
they saw the face of God as she mourned her own death
sweet lovely death
bittersweet like chasing bourbon with coke
lost in the maelstrom of growing responsibilities
amber
then green
they tore down Robious laughing
and singing punk music at the top of their lungs

I was sitting in traffic
From the belvedere 2nd st exit
Through 2nd and Byrd
And cary, main,
Franklin street
The parking garage on my right
On my left:
Buildings anonymous
I see the Wells Fargo bank
Looming over cars
And more cars
This country
It's drowning in concrete and cars
And these people
They drive like cows with no feet
In my car I'm a fuming ball of impatience
I say
**** this ****
And to my left
In building anonymous land
A pretty looking artsy/hipster girl
Says
I know, right?
Connections
Lost in a green light switch
Grace to the alley
Which takes me to 1st
Takes me about 10 minutes
I park illegally
And ask a middle age black couple
'scuse me,
What the hell is going on?
They respond
the two street festival.
thanks.
I go into my apartment
And life goes on.

He came in on the Greyhound bus
with deep brown eyes
smoldering like coals in his skull
the lines on his face
and the final remains
of puberty induced acne
made his age impossible to guess
He put up in the YMCA
locked up in his room
smoking with the windows open
drinking Wild Irish Rose
It felt good
as it's warmth flowed through his veins
he felt the tightness which gripped him
dissolve until he felt
adrift in an ocean of wine
He went out on the streets
The city was mostly dead at night
which allowed him the privilege
of being alone,
his destination was unknown
and near empty buses
filled with few unfortunate to be awake
He thought
he might like to burn this place down
so something,
anything could happen
to spur him from
apathetic footholds
their had to be some action,
some life,
some danger,
left in the world,
and until then
he would drink and smoke
and wait to die
and he would move,
from town to town
until the road ran out.
A transient

Sunday night is a dull hum
constantly buzzing in my ear
Sunday night is a broken clock
hands stuck at five to five
Sunday night is experiencing technical difficulties
bars of black, white, and other colors
Sunday is so high it can't get off the couch
was that somebody knocking at the door?
Sunday night is so drunk
it fell asleep in the closet
only to wake up thinking
this doesn't look like my bed
Sunday night is trying out for varsity
only to make the practice squad
Sunday night is a suburban strip mall
at five AM on a Monday

I took my Sunday nights
and poured them in a glass
downed it in one gulp
and projectile vomited
all over my Monday through Saturdays
I took my Sunday nights
and put them on a page for you

got a new health system for the new wealth victims
take it on good good faith
why try communicate
when the fake and faceless
don't seek illumination
all across the nation
we've got nothing except teenagers coughing
racing each other to the coffin
dear God will this globe stop spinning long enough
for me to tough out these spins
I'm sweating on the bathroom floor
losing all the words I could never ignore
and yeah I like to live in the similes and metaphors
but I'm just looking for a ***** of Babylonia
moaning on the phone as again as I **** my paper n' pen
give me an acoustic mariachi quartet in the morning
urge me from snoring dreams of soaring
because rent is due
and I'm way too broke to waste so much time
sitting here writing for dimes and nickel spots
fraudulent paychecks not enough to cut it
no room left to say **** it
something has to put a stop to this
we've been playing chicken for too long
with your favorite song on repeat on my radio
the flowers are now in bloom
until another winter brings their doom
and we ally say it's too soon
so pour another tall drink into the kitchen sink
and make some time to think
if we keep treading water like this
eventually we'll all sink

Lost out in the summer rain
Lost in a haze of summer gazes
All the fences razed to the ground
Inescapable sounds
Of oh isn't he smart
He will go places
Yeah but not your places
Places full of plastic faces
Hiding behind glass window display cases
Going to the moon
The scent of mediocre doom
Filling the room
Like whiskey *****
Fined for misconduct
Of a conduit into a cliche artist
Talking like tongues twisted off of
Mouth numbing shots of grey goose and jäger
Talking like slick Rick spitters
Who don't long for quick fillers
Of life experiences poured in a pitcher
And I'm talking *******
Pbr bellied fool ****
But rest assured
My inhibitions cured
I talk true ****

Where are you going
walking down the street
as the sun struggles
to find a reason to rise
and trash skitters along the asphalt
being blown by the winds of wonder
I wonder when you will realize
realize that the second hand
is spinning too fast
and that one day
the clocks will all break
and one night
the bottle will run empty
and the mirrors won't break
and the knife won't cut
the gun won't ****
hammer
pull
so where are you going
we all say the road less traveled
but truth be told
that road doesn't exist anymore
and truth be told
we're too lazy to raise a fist anymore
and truth be told
I don't tell the truth
I just make you believe lies
but isn't that the same thing?

There are two parts of me
One's a daydreaming little kid
Sitting on his ***
With an empty notebook
And a box of colored pencils
The other is a mean, bitter, cynical,
Angry grown up with a mustache
But **** does he get things done
As he drags the little kid
Along behind him
By the collar of his shirt

he's the type of guy
who wears the same pair of jeans
for months at a time
wearing them down to frayed seams and cuffs
The type of guy
who shops at the Good Will
comfort over style
familiar with familiarity

She's the type of girl
who doesn't know where her clothes came from
She picked them all up at one time or another
The type of girl
who doesn't spend multiple morning hours
in front of a mirror
It's about what she puts into the world
her body's expendable

They are the type of couple
who preemptively **** away their arguments
because real conflict would surely break them
so they refuse to look at it
until it becomes so large and obtrusive
that it comes crashing down on them
like a breaker
and washes them away

the layers unfold like spring time flowers
aching to be viewed
by sunlight eyes
a winter spent
under the heavy hands
of the foundry
shaped and strengthened
until it is finally ready
to steal the breath
from your lungs
and make your heart
come alive

My father
left my mother
waiting on a promise
but no more
pretty anniversary vacations
only divorce lawyers
and yelling
bitter compromises
drawing sobs from my mother
on the first Christmas Eve that you weren't here

I was eighteen when it happened
so It didn't hit me quite so hard
as my thirteen year old brother
but it did hit me
not a haymaker
but a series of sharp jabs
to the cerebellum
and it makes me mad
thinking back to all
the comparisons between us
and it makes me
absolutely ******* furious
that try as I might
I still love you
But don't call me son
because you divorced us
and I appreciate your monetary lifeboats
but I would make it without them
besides I think of it
as compensation for what you did to my head

Mother dearest's pain
flowing through open vessels
to the salt of lovers
and I've been falling in love ever since
every pretty faced girl
who ever looked as if she'd frowned
became angelic saviors
in my eyes
something to protect
and love forever
But I can't love every
cute girl I see
forever
I know that
and I love them too much to hurt them
to be honest I think you
stole the hope of me
ever understanding what real love is
I just want to save every girl
whose cheeks are scarred with forgotten tears
but I can't
so I revert to a one night stand
fueled by futility and whiskey and ****** beer
never allowing myself to give
that old poison that we like to call Love
I carry a cross
made of sins of the father

He's the type of guy
who does it until he is gone
everything he does
he throws himself in
the type of guy
who spends his mornings in coffee houses
and his nights at the bar
he smokes cigarettes
almost two packs a day
he's suicidal
he just doesn't like to rush things
he feels the pressure
always on top of him
and he is an expert of running
even though he knows
it will never work
but he's restless
so he'll keep waking himself with drink
and putting himself to sleep with it
until he has made his mark
or until he is gone

Chivalry is dead
and it was killed by the fairer ***
lipstick red cigarette butts
and wine glasses
squeezing the trigger
to complacency
and if romance is dead
then I guess I'm a necrophiliac
because I still believe in the chase
and the grand gestures
and don't tell my male friends
but I cling to the stories of true love
like a kid too stubborn to believe
that Santa is really just old ma and pops
blown out in a haze of smoke
the dust cleared to clarify
that crazy chaotic chances
won't always land on snake eyes
but I keep throwing the die anyway
and one day I'll die
and then I'll die a second time
when my words die
and maybe I'll be proven wrong
and be alone
but I won't stop
I can't be an atheist
because I understand all too well
the depth of the well of faith
so I'll keep on walking like a blind man
carrying my romances around with me in a hobo sack
until I find what I'm looking for

she could walk and talk and toe down the line
between thrift shop flannels and expensive black dresses
wrapped up in the layers and folds of your duvet which was so thick I sweat all night long
I woke up ti the light forcing it's way white through your plastic blinds
I woke up in my boxers and skin
next to you in your underwear and skin much preferable to mine
the recipe went my arm your body my other arm
and whether or not we did what everybody's thinking we did that night doesn't matter
nor does words we may or may not have said
but it matters that I was smiling when I woke up
to see you still there
my arm riddled with pins and needles
smiling
and the weekend before
we went to the haunted house
your hand clutching mine tightly
I wasn't scared
but I clutched at that life raft as hard as I could
as I lead you through dark tunnels and corn fields
it was good to see you
it will be better to see you again

I'd sign every letter I write you with a kiss
Only Manila envelopes taste like ****
Besides,
Who the hell writes letters anymore?

I've been losing my mind
When I meet somebody new
I question if they actually exist
Or if I'm finally
Completely
Bat **** bonkers

Users and abusers
come one and all
there is a freak show
down in the glass house
winos and crack heads
coke freaks and nitrous suckers
acupuncture skin punctures
and candy land pill poppers
*** heads and shroom munchers
users and abusers
one and all
come on down to church
in the basement of the glass house
wet your tongue in holy water
and revel the gospel of our lord and savior
(Insert dead pop culture icon here)
and don't forget to pay the tithe
to mother superior

A discarded box of chocolates
the box in the shape of a love heart
the lid sits crooked on the damp floor
with a velvet ribbon tied around it
in the box there is a note
the ink stained from the drizzle
for my valentine
half of the chocolate was gone
the other half was melted
and smelled liked the dumpster
which they were abandoned next to
curious I read the note
I can't give you money
but I can give you my heart
actually I can't
so here's this instead
I hope you like it
your valentine
apparently
she did not

I grew up in a village
Americans always seem to laugh
at the very idea of a village
how quaint?
but I did
it was five or ten years behind the times
and in the pub,
the huntsman,
the local
there is an old Marlboro
cigarette vending machine
with lights and menthols
and 27's and reds
and milds and ultra milds
and all the others
I'm too drunk to remember
I miss those machines
bells rung of a simpler time
I miss those machines

Get loud for Christ's sake
shake the walls
vibrate
black out red
we killed twelve Pakistani innocents with unmanned drones
and this silence is getting under my skin
there's a disturbing lack of politicians hanging from flagpoles across the country
no I didn't hear the new Q94 top tracks
and say yoloswag one more time,
I dare you,
you can find your teeth in the back of your throat
burn polo and nike to the ground
turn the CEO's over to the sweatshop workers
this quiet will **** us
but until it does
I'm off hunting
so don't find yourself on the wrong side of my iron sights
thin the herd until we near extinction
righteous fire is cleansing
and we will rebuild from the mountain of corrupted ashes
impotent rage is a trait of the youth
and I'm young enough to pop
if these airwaves stay dead for much longer

Voices lift us higher than any
lifted high in locked bedrooms
voices of angels
steeped in risk
and pure love
I come across silly
or played out
or too strong
a beat up beatnik wannabe
with too many beer stories
of *** drugs and rock ‘n roll
but from an early age
the words of men turned me into
my own depiction of heroes
wounded warriors smiling in vain
despite the spite of the jealous majorities
they cast out fishing lines
and hooked me with hooks
narrative to musical to comedic
limelight and broken bic lighters
and way too much baggage to
take on tour on planes
they connect through the telephone poles
an ethernet port into my ear
I may sometimes come across
as thin as spread butter
but the voices are still all
bubbling up inside of me

driving through traffic
knifing back and forth between lanes
flooring it to the end
slamming on the brakes before the cliff eats him
surrounded by other people
he quakes,
vision blurs,
blackens,
then red
with a sweep of his arm
he could remove them all
waiting for the time to come
when the walls they worked so *******
crumble into dust
lost in the sands of time
and the monsters on the outside
come in
and thin the herd
he waits for that moment
in dark apartment bedroom
or in smoking sections
and coffee shops across the land
that smile is the reaper's sickle
gums ******
stomach grumpy
eyes reduced to darkened slits
maybe one day
they'll forget what a day is
and he is patiently waiting
behind a camel and a bottle
he waits for the music of all things
to fade into a warm
comfortable
silence

Does a sociopath love?
does the child who pinches the girl sitting next to him in kindergarten?
The tongue tied middles schooler
hey.. uh.. um.. I was like... well.. just wondering... You wanna like maybe... dance or something
the text recipient writing four drafts of his response reading:
what are you doing this Friday night?
The jolt of lightning which rips through his body
a current sent from her through their clutched hands
or the girl who blushes when Prince tall, dark, handsome, and charming
looks her in the eye and smiles
we all stand on the edge of the cliff
waiting to be pushed
praying that they are there when we hit the ground
with a hug, a coffee, and a thick blanket
we all want somebody to love us in the ways we could never love ourselves
so we might be complete

would you be offended
if I compared you to an alarm clock?
because you make me
wake the hell up
and maybe that ****** me off
a born seeker of silence
but i know
that if you hadn't
there would be so much
that I would miss
and to be honest
when you don't wake me up
a beautiful song
just the wrong place, right time
I miss you

We were dandelion seeds cast out by the aimlessly reaching kick of a child
a God who we had never heard from
as we ran amok the coast of North Carolina
the beach calling to us a challenge sent forth from the end of all things
an experience that would stay with us well after we had washed the sand from between our toes
The world was lit up through a golden screen of carelessness
and our sunburned skin quickly hardened and the salt made it leathery
drinking from the chalice of fading youth
we came alive like machines and hailed the night
the nights where we became a wash in lust and solo cups full of tears
tears we never let loose because we needed all the water we could get
we ate space cake and counted the stars as they blinked at us
urging us to communicate and comprehend the message of the forever unfurling cosmos
The mornings were ruby and sapphire clashing where heaven meets the horizon
and in the cold grasp of the Atlantic we were baptized
emerging fresh and innocent and smooth
The seagulls left us alone after sensing our leap into desperation
and every face was the face of a long lost friend
we never knew we even had
Police cars were taxis and untold punchlines
and the word adult was blasphemy
we bathed our arms in holy fire and sent smoke signals out to nobody
which read:
we are here in the midst of all things. We are what we make of ourselves and we reserve the right to not know the answers
dancing inside the expansive night of your mouth
where each tooth protruding from pink exclamation was its own full moon
and your tongue an opal rendition of the sisyphusian tides
we eroded our soul against the ceaseless crash of waves
and fell asleep where we were last standing
we took hallucinogenic mushrooms and spat in the face of the old ideals
and in the chaos all we were really trying to do
was forge ourselves strong
in all the places we feared were most vulnerable
we wanted to come out of it strong
unchanged
wholly us
…
but did we?

it's cold this morning
footsteps chasing breath
they call it a walk of shame
nobody gets why I smile
walk of shame
I prefer walk of game
proof that somebody will have me
amazed at the image
of my bed
empty in the early hours of morning
and me
somehow in someone else's bed
someone who may have been drunk
but so was I
and ******* it
she thought I was good enough
and that made her beautiful
at least to me
and for a couple of hours that night
we shared ourselves
with open trust
content to hand this other
the key to our bird cages
and they call it a walk of shame

whale ***** is in
every cigarette smoked
we inhale Jonah

treat this as a warning label
stop, warning, harmful, toxic substance
this won't be a fruitful endeavor
turn around, and don't look back
running from a pillar of salt

It would be foolish to think
that i'm not selfish
people just don't understand
the difference between
nice and selfless
But I would swallow you whole
most comfortable when we
are not comfortable
when the ceiling is crumbling
I'm at my best

I will take you
and claim your humanity
for my own
using it greedily
turning it into words
packaging it
and shipping it off
to millions of fast thought
word joints

warning, explicit content
harmful if swallowed
too far regressed
a stubborn child
in need of saving
too proud to be saved
the Surgeon General recommends
not even taking the time
Just turn around
truly not worth it

greatness once stood here
drinking the spilled blood
of the winos and dope fiends
as they crashed
wings useless
from voyaging too close
to Apollo's fury
this vast wasteland
endless concrete
and stores which stay in business
for months
before being replaced
with the next Mongolian themed restaurant
the streetlights flicker
before burning out
like the candles of so many
extinguished too soon
this wasteland is all encompassing
be wary of the passer-by
they have a grin where their mouth should be
and a purse with a hole in the bottom
they salivate greed
and scream
at anybody who will listen
These are my beliefs,
they may not be right,
but **** it you'd better follow them
the wolves are hungry
out to get you in every drunken
way too high dark alley
that runs rank with beer ****
the elders feed on the young
spiders on their world wide web
******* the life out of the youth
until they themselves
are free of this
free of anger and drive
determination
but best of all
free from the endless torment
of untouched dreams
lock your mind, heart, and soul
in a cage made of razor blades
and swallow they key
because times are hard
in the wasteland
and if you want to make it
you're in for a hell of a journey

You said don't overthink this
and don't go writing me
any of those ******* love poems
because we both know this isn't love
I said,
you look nice with no shorts on
thanks,
you said
I said I love the way you look without those pesky denim shorts
you told me to stop being a smart ***
but let's be honest
we both knew
you were getting on that plane
and that I was going to write this poem anyways

I moved to this country
when I was thirteen or twelve years old
My Dad was semi-proud, semi-sorry
"I've been promoted...
the only thing is we have to move to America"
but all of my friends
but then again... it might not be raining all the time
but I'll miss the rain
don't lie
okay but where in America?
".... Richmond, Virginia."
where?
What state is Virginia in?
"It is a state, near D.C. - the head of the south"
oh great the south,
it was like moving from a farm village
filled with fat xenophobic racists
only to move to an even bigger farming village
filled with fat xenophobic racists
"Well you don't have much of a choice."

So we went on a pilgrimage
to the land of slavery, cowboys, and McDonald's
they didn't have a monarchy
but there were a lot of kings around
JFK airport wasn't much
compared to London
and the traffic down from DC
was absolutely ridiculous
This many people can not possibly
find use out of a truck
why so many traffic lights
and raised cars
We got lost
and drove through a DC ghetto
where I saw TV depictions of "The streets"
for the first time up close
quick close the windows
drive drive drive
We made it to Richmond
in the dead of night
and even then
the skyline across the James
was like low hanging stars
and in the mornings
the James looks like a scene
from a Jack London story
and now I've been here for almost seven years
and the place has grown on me
it's a good balance
of obnoxious redneck republicans
and obnoxious hipster democrats
and some of the prettiest landscapes I've seen
and yeah I'll take Richmond on a summer day
over any other city
Because RVA creates
is on every street light banner
and the feeling permeates through the city
like electricity in the air
making your hair stand up on end
as if to say
Welcome to Richmond

he breathes pollution
exhalations of corporate
caustic black smoke
nerves tight like drums
they pound out a call to war
a war which doesn't exist
so he wages war
against himself
and everyone else
he stuck two bolts in his neck
on top of his roof
devil forks of lightning
with arms like pistons
he punches holes in a million forgotten rooms
legs like a combustion engine
his gait shatters sidewalks
with an eye full of killing
and a constant squint
he extinguishes the sun
and laughs
a maniac in the dark

but he has a past
there aren't good people
or bad people
just people
with good or bad
stories
because we created him
this walking atom bomb
set to self destruct
because one day
many years ago
he was a child
who couldn't get to sleep
on Christmas eve
just like you
just like me

We still have the summer
that we spent together
before you went to college
the nights we spent
drunk on the beach
you with your guitar
me with my smile
as the surf licked our feet
the times we spent
hip to hip
looking at the stars
on that patch of private grass
down the street from your house
all the times spent
wagging our chins
about whatever came to mind
we will always have the summer

We still have the summer
when the leaves outside my window
turn crisp brown, apple red, and gold
when the school bell rings
like the doorbells
opened upon
kids trying to make five bucks
When summer's lingering heat
beings to chill
and we are once again visited
by the ghosts of our breath
We will always have the summer

We still have the summer
when winter comes along
and maybe if we're lucky
it'll be a white Christmas
but this is Richmond
so probably not
but I hope we do
the city looks so pretty
all lit up on a snowy night
We will always have the summer

We still have the summer
when our birthday month rolls around
a couple of April fools
laughing our ***** off
When new life springs out
from all around
and the spring showers
turns the early morning grass
into a field of stars
or a Caribbean sea
meeting a setting sun
and the birds sing their pretty little hearts out
just like you
We will always have the summer

And when summer comes round again
maybe I will see you
not a care in the world
a world's worth of meaning
maybe we will go back to that beach
the sun and salt
turning our skin to leather
until we look like a couple
of Florida retirees
happy and wrinkled
Maybe
we can gaze up at the stars
or your ceiling fan
It really doesn't matter
Maybe these things will happen
maybe not
I find comfort
in knowing
that I will always have that summer

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

You walk in the door
Immediately you are aware of the competition
13 or 14 other guys
Who you imagine
Slobbering and panting
Over one of the few
Available females in the place
An you get mad
Jealous even
Over something
You were no where near having
This party *****
A total sausage fest
We should roll out
I'm sure,
the next party will be different
What are we
Always celebrating?

Powerless power
We compete for the entire world
And end up splintered
Like fragments of matches
Burnt out shells
Of everything we thought we could be

Now I hear a lot things
things like you can't be too blue
too white to live a blue life
well I'm hungry
and I'm black and blue
Now listen sweet cheeks
you keep flapping those gums
and I'm going to get the hell out of here
because you are a place called last
and I'm a town called over the horizon
causing riots by talking about which flavor
of starburst is the best
and ******* if you don't think pink
my blues are more like baby blues
I get jealous real easy
so maybe they're turquoise
who the hell cares
all I know now
is I wander from bus stop to bus stop
with a harmonica I can't play
singing at the top of my lungs
"BLUE?!'
"**** sunshine,
all I see
is red"

Turn the shame
Into art
They love nothing more
Than a broken heart

"So what is it"
"It's the chemical dreams are made of"
"it comes in waves:
the first hit you feel awesome,
the second hit you feel awful
the third hit makes you forget everything"
three hits
lightly cooking the bowl
1
this feels great
2
my heart is going to explode
3
the color drains from the world into black and white
sepia
and purple stars
the spirit molecule
and my body feels like a thousand pounds
"just close your eyes and ride it out"
fractal light patterns
and flashes of eyes
the eye of ra?
the eye of horus?
no
the Goddess Seshat
I had no idea who she was
but she was talking to me
her voice breaking through the tentacles and sound wave mesh
she said
God is weeping
and I said but why?
is it because I was bad?
and she said
no,
it's because you think you are
and his face flashed before
drenched in tears
only to be replaced by a scorpion
but I'm a Taurus and not a Scorpio
the silhouette of a bull blowing smoke
and she told me many things
she told me about me
about wisdom
about the world
then a phone ringer sounded
it was a text
and the cloud of cosmic dust particles slowly settled
It was the real world again
only this time
more peaceful
"Guess how long it's been?"
"five minutes?"
"twenty."
and I could already feel it fading away
all that's left are flashes of images and conversation
and the feeling that there was an important message

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

what happened?
a simple question
which is too complicated for me
a ball of nerves and synapses
electrical smoke signals
all a part of the story
of what happened to me
your own face a stranger
who mocks you
a reflection
which looks better than the photos
but it's a trap
a trick
its mean and it's *****
who care what happened to you?
what is going to happen?
and only you can answer that one

It rained today
The sky was blue
The sun was out
And it was sickly humid
I mean ****,
It was raining sideways
Soap opera tears coming from seemingly nowhere
It just makes you think
Maybe god didn't want me to go outside and get anything done today
If I am made in god's image
Maybe he's as lazy as me

It seems as if
I always miss the mark
A shot in the dark
Surrounded by what if's

The morning is serene
sober shafts of light
filter through the trees
which were planted
lining the streets
to make the city seem
just a little less man made
and it isn't too hot
and there isn't too much wind
only a light breeze
and a gentle wash of
sunlight

Mornings are holy times
times of reflection
times of rekindling
the spark
of the spirit of humanity
and I'm not a morning person
so I'm graced with these moments
much too rarely
but they are my best moments
and my favorite moments
easy summer mornings
when the birds chirp their loudest
and the sky is the cool blue
of the pacific ocean
morning for the usually dreary
hydrates the brain
better than any cool
perspiring
glass of brita filter water
the morning is the birth
of a new day

A taste for being inebriated
The sense of dissolving completely
Into the silence of night
I learned how to spot a spinning room
For a cheap carnival, parlor trick
I can't tell birds apart by their chirp
But I can appreciate a beautiful day
Even when everything feels lost
Poetry gave me a voice
And taught me when to shut the **** up
It showed me to see the angels
Trapped inside of everybody
Begging to come out
But it also showed me
When to be wary of a lost cause
Poetry gave me a way to vent
When I could feel the chaos I life
Crawling up my throat
Poetry gave me vision and a fresh perspective
Poetry have happiness
And self discovery
And love
And for all the bruises I carry
I wouldn't trade it in for anything in the world

You painted me an image
Of rolling southern fields
Struggling to stand up right
Beneath the muggy, humid sky
You wrote me song
Called it city living
You never told me
That instead of the ambitious, bohemian dream
I'd cut myself - deep - on the edge of things
You gave me a small taste of your scent
It smelled like good tongue kissing
But it was never groupies with no *******
Only a constant stream of falling into
The hard concrete of an impossible love
With a beautiful angel
Back then -
Where the reds were rosier
And I was so impressionable
You promised me so much
Maybe I deserve these bruises
Which tattoo up my entire body
Weaving a story
Of willing betrayal

Poetry taught me ******* myself
poetry taught me why I shouldn’t
poetry taught me that sometimes
a laugh is a whole lot more than a laugh
and poetry helped me get back in touch
with all of my long lost tears
poetry taught me that girls at a party
love a poet
but girls at a party
don’t know a ****** thing about poetry
poetry taught me that that doesn’t matter
I’ve got a **** and we’re all just animals
poetry taught me how to talk to girls
poetry taught me that I’m the type of guy
who strikes out way less on the page
Ermmm… yeah. Do ya like music?
poetry taught me that getting high
results in crashing lows
and it’s the ascent/descent which breeds art
passion comes from the destinations
poetry taught me honesty
and how to make a lie sound truthful
poetry taught me life and death
and made nihilism seem hip
poetry taught me that my Mum is on occasion
a crazy woman
and that my Dad is more like me than I’d like to admit
poetry taught me that that is all okay
poetry taught me how to be okay in the passenger seat
but also when to take the steering wheel by force
poetry taught me how to make the glint of
a neon sign reflected by a broken forty ounce bottle
into a dazzling beam of lunar light
poetry has taught me a lot
and I’m eager to learn