It's been a while since I've
rattled with prose for
poetry is
prose with more
fashion,
style,
finesse

the heart ticks for all but
the veins
they are filled with
lust for different desires

we battle over taste,
over
bread crumbs

soon we will forget who
we once were
but...
first we must forget
who we are today

Long live
the ones who
die
tomorrow, for a new day is
on The Rise
And the wise
they tremble
And the bold
they tremble
And the meek
smile on and on
because they've got nothing
better to do

Look mom
it's broken
the clock you gave me
stopped ticking
long ago
no hands
no face
lost in impressions
and wondering
where it all went wrong
but
ever willing
to stand the test
of time

People try to say
too little
with so much
and it comes out scrambled
and wrong
like a cookie
on a large plate

Somehow
the floor isn't
sticky anymore
yet I'm rooted,
stuck in this same
eternal
lackluster state of
having everything
I could ever want

they all wish to be here
while I only desire to hunger
to yearn - to thirst
for the next...

Insect carcassi
litter the floor
but
who has time
to go out and buy
a floor sweep with
sturdy wooden handle
that doesn't snap
while ridding the world
of your bug ridden plight

I have a bug under my skin
crawling within the depths of my
soul
it fritters on and about
like a teapot
short and stout
ready to release the contents of its
spout
screaming and shouting
LET ME OUT!

it loves to write
frightening details
on starry nights