Merry Christmas Grandma,
Thought I'd fill you in on what's been going on here for the holidays. Since you can't be with us on account of you having your vaginal gout flare up again. Dad says it's just as well since you're not actually my grandma and really just some homeless lady I keep writing letters for. So I thought I'd huff whatever I can find under the sink and write you up.
Timmy had had another bad dream last night. He wet the bed and the Wolfhound that had been given to my aunt by her ex Snott, his name was actually Scott but he couldn't pronounce the letter c. Well it went crazy and killed Timmy. The Wolfhound, not Snot. My sister Tammy is pretty upset since his name had come up in her ****** Advent Calendar.
Mom took us by the prison last week to see Uncle Skinny. He's still in isolation so we had to yell at him though the drainage pipe in the back. Says he's doing well. Still eating skin every chance he gets but hasn't had a cigarette in four months. We're all pretty proud of him. We used a tent pole to shove some chicken skins through the pipe and wished him a Merry Christmas.
Our neighbors are having a dispute over Christmas decorations. Seems our new neighbors the Crowleys celebrate Christmas by going from house to house and screeching satanic verses into a megaphone whilst making their kids dance for nickels. Seriously these kids will not stop dancing unless you have nickels. Try throwing a quarter? Nope, they just dance harder. Nobody in the neighborhood is sure as to whether or not it's child abuse so we just collectively try to make sure we have nickels at all times. These people will just jump out of the bushes screeching and dancing. The other kids are afraid to wait for the bus in the morning.
Well in an effort to get them to stop. Our other neighbor begain having an affair with the wife in the schreechy family. My guess is he was going to blackmail her to get her family to stop screeching and singing. Well she ended up keeping the baby he knocked her up with. Turns out her husband is a cuck and into the whole thing. So now whenever you see them, they're pushing a stroller with his kid in it. His wife left him for her stepdaughter and they're making ***** films in Burbank. Daryl and I are thinking of trying to cheer him up by decorating his house for Christmas for him. We're going to turn a woodchipper towards his house and throw green paint and squirrels into it. Because he's always feeding the squirrels so we think he'll like it.
I found out what my friend next door is getting for Christmas. I saw his dad shopping for trampolines at the trampoline store in the trampoline district downtown. They have to perfect yard for it. They'll probably put it near the pool with the waterslide and the next to the rock climbing wall. Hopefully my friend will do more than just sit in his wheelchair and cry about it like he does every year.
Anyway. I should probably go clean up what's left of Timmy. I was supposed to do it hours ago but the dog has playing with Timmys corpse for a while. He shakes it around and flings it down the hall. Then he picks it up and runs around the house with it. Mom and dad will be back from their swingers party at the orphanage soon so I better get to it.
Tomorrow is Christmas. I can't wait. After I open my presents and have breakfast. I'm going to do what I always do. I'm going to stand in front of the Mosque and smoke cigarettes in a very intimidating manner. Once they come out to see what I want. I offer to scratch their ***** if they'll bring me some figgy pudding. It hasn't happened yet but I remain hopeful.
Have a Merry Christmas Grandma.
Love Billy

All those pieces of me that I gave away along the road. Well the people I gave them to threw them away. Now what’s left isn’t worth much.

Some of you just don’t like Christmas. You’d rather it just *******. Anytime you hear Jingle Bells, you change the station and scoff.

Perhaps it has been ruined, by things that happened then. So while others are laughing and singing, you’re only thinking of when.

Was it a touchy old pastor? Did a reindeer **** on your shoe? Did your elf on a shelf touch himself while smiling and staring at you?

Maybe a coked out ****** in tights tried to bite off your tongue. Just as the snow was falling and those church bells had been rung.

How can you not like the lights? The smell of snow in the air? Is it because you’re spiritually dead and can’t muster the courage to care?

Maybe you had a bad mom, who wore ****** clamps in front of your friends. Who wore acid wash jeans everyday, no matter the fashion trends.

How can you not like the sounds? Of fires that crackle and snap? Of cookies and cider and cinnamon **** and all that Christmasy crap?

Well whatever your ***** *** reason for hating this season so. Please take your ****** egg nog, and go stand outside in the snow.

There are countless stories about love, triumph, and discovery. The story you’re about to read. Is about none of those things.

In a village not long ago, underneath a breath of snow. There lived a family of kinder sorts. Albeit slow, all good sports.

And every year the took a tree, from yonder woods, cut at the knee. They dragged it home, their latest ****. And propped it up against its will.

Then they’d sing and set it to light. Confused and scared this tree a fright. They’d sing a song and praise it’s glory. But this tree was to have a different story.

Along with more snow there came too a wind. A silence unknown began to descend. Across the valley, up and into the wood. What was to come would harbor no good.

It’s tracks were cloven like that of a goat. It leapt upon rooftops, mocking the moat. It’s hoof falls muffled by tops of white cotton. It took scent of the air, and found it quite rotten.

It made its way from cottage to cottage. It saw a man take a fruitcake to ****** frottage. It witnessed a woman snorting up snow. While another devoured her up from below.

Disgusted, our creature continued to search. It witnessed a friar defile a perch. It saw a young man go to bed with a priest. And four old lady’s that ******* about yeast.

Ole Mrs Goodhead was down on her knees. While men came and went offering cheese. Her husband the blind poor crippled fool. Thought he got lucky while a goat ate his tool.

Our creature repulsed, threw up on his tongue. And just about then the church bells were rung. In all the commotion he found his query. That one little tree, so tired and weary.

He kicked in the door surprising his host. Standing there naked, his **** between toast. Our creature scoffed and took hold of the tree. “You perverts and freaks, this goes with me!”

Their mother outback getting reamed, the children shouted, shrieked, and screamed. Creature cradling this tree under arm, ran into the wood away from the farm.

The townsfolk rallied, with axes and torches. Leaping from *** swings that sway on their porches. Naked and scared they marched toward the wood. Not a one of these folk knew what they should.

“You tree stealing goat you dare steal our hope. We brought along **** and a whole lot of rope.” They chanted and cursed threatening ****. You would’ve thought there’d be no escape.

Through the wind and the snow they soon saw a light. Clutching their axes and **** cheeks tight. They witnessed the creature replant the tree. Then it unzipped it trousers and started to ***.

The steam was rising from out of the snow. At the foot of this tree that then started to glow. It’s branches stretched and it grew a bit taller. Away from the *******, the drinking, and squalor.

The creature turned, addressing the court. It let out grunt, a huff, and a snort. “Who there among you dares to do this? To steal away this tree where I ****.

I spent my life ******* on trees. From rivers to mountains I **** where I please. Until one Christmas drunk off some cider. I collapsed and stumbled and woke up beside her.

I rewarded her presence by melting her snow, she paid me back with a warm growing glow. So every year I come here for *******. Getting just drunk enough to keep me from missing.”

The townsfolk still naked, some of them dead. Let out an “oh” and lowered their heads. “Please beast forgive us, we know not what we do. We’re ripe with chlamydia, and haven’t a clue.”

The creature still frothing and somehow still *******. Knew what it was the townsfolk were missing. He let go of his tool and reached his hands. Still naked and scared, they met his demands.

They started to sing they started out low, then their screeching started to grow. It cut through the valley like a wet **** in bed. Scaring the children, the wolves, and the dead.

Many years later, that tree grew in height. On Christmas Eve, they bathe in it’s light. They gathered around it ******* and singing. Throughout the valley the bells would be ringing.

Then one Christmas they’d gathered to see just how tall was their ******* tree. A storm rolled in, filled them with dread. Then it fell over and now they’re all dead.

I could have stayed silent my whole life,
And the outcome would’ve been the same.

I’d been told
That there was gold
To be found in them there hills
Bright blue skies and Apple pies
Cooling on window sills
Then I got older
The days got colder
And the hills just got farther away
Tired bones hearts of stone
This life just isn’t my day
So riddle me this
Spare me your kiss
Just tell me what I’m doing here
I’m alone on this hill. Standing, still
And my view just isn’t as clear

Upon a place no man has stepped.
A lonely girl knelt and wept.
Her family lost, her hope as well.
She’d brought along a little bell.
She started to dig where her tears had fallen.
For she could hear her best friend callin.

Faintly was the scent of death.
From out of the dirt, she smelled her breath.
She presented the bell before the hole.
And shook it thrice to hear its toll.
Sulfuric smoke seeped from the ground.
The forest stopped and made no sound.

“Right the wrongs done to I, so that I may cease to cry.
Free them from their mortal coil, so that in hell they’ll burn and toil.”
A scream like that of a banshee ripped.
From out of the hole a fire slipped.
A winged demon emerged in sight.
Dripping hate and firelight.

From out of the burning debris and embers.
At the feet of ancient timbers.
A winged version of this lil girl.
Stretched out her wings a did a twirl.
She looked upon the moon with ire.
Swearing to one day set it afire.

“Emily, where are you dear?
Please approach and hold me near.”
Emily then, bid her welcome
“Why dear sister are your visits seldom?
Emily I’ve missed you so.
I was sad to see you go.”

“I’m so sorry Laura. Please.
I stopped along the way for these.”
Emily held out daffodils.
That she had brought down from the hills.
Laura smiled and cocked her head.
“Much like I, they’re also dead.”

Many things had lived and died.
Since they were by each other’s side.
Emily watched as her sister drowned.
She made no effort or even sound.
Laura’s death was for good reason.
Her mood was death for every season.

Emily had seen her sister ****.
Standing by and standing still.
Then there came that night now haunted.
When Emily would not be daunted.
Laura had taken Emily’s cat.
And gone outside with a bat.

Emily then chased her still.
Towards the well upon a hill.
Emily returned that night.
Laura lost, no where in sight.
She’d watched her sister drown.
She made no move, she made no sound.

The two embraced and cried in quiet.
They both did wrong and both stood by it.
"Emily your heart feels cold against my skin,
it was not like that way back when."
"It's been so dark since mother died,
father hasn't mourned or cried."

"Our mother died? Say since when.
Tell me Emily, begin again."
"Not long after I took your life,
our home became a place for strife.
The crops fell sick as did our cows,
as well as the chickens and the sows.

Our mother she neglected me,
she hung herself on our oak tree.
Then fathers friends they came right after,
they strung me up from the rafters.
One by one they had their way,
our father watched and took his pay."

Laura pulled away in awe,
uttering only "not our pa".
Emily sobbed and lowered her head.
"Our home is but a place of dread."
Laura slowly unfurled her wings.
"I will not stand for such awful things."

Her claws of black volcanic glass,
her cat like eyes let nothing pass.
Her shredded skin and fibers showing,
her thirsty fangs and eyes a glowing.
"Tell me Emily where is our father?
I'll let him be the first I bother."

"On the floor back at our stead,
with any luck already dead.
His friends are also probably there,
waiting there for me I dare.
Oh Laura dear I am afraid.
Please do not get hurt or scathed."

Emily put her knees to dirt.
"I only wish I couldn't hurt."
Laura took her sisters hand.
"Emily dear, leave this land.
Where your from you must never say.
Because for sure you'll die that day.

This is a curse I must bestow.
Because for every death there is a toll."
The sisters said goodbye once more.
Things won't be as they were before.
Laura flapped her wings to flight.
Emily walked into the night.

Laura perched upon the barn and saw.
Her fathers friends but not her Pa.
She changed her scent to that whiskey.
Then she willed away a man named Liskey.
In the barn up to the loft.
The hay was old, damp, and soft.

She waited for the drunkard there.
Her eyes aglow her body bare.
Liskey forced the girl against the joist.
Laura hung his body from the hoist.
While his friends below were sharing whiskey
Hanging high was Mr Liskey

Next there was a young man named Sam.
She made him cry like a wounded lamb.
This brought the others to the field.
She slayed them all she would not yield.
She tore their flesh and drank their blood.
She scattered their limbs into the mud.

The sun was set and about to rise.
To light upon such distant skies.
Laura made her way towards the ranch.
Stopping once to break a branch.
From off a tree her grandpa planted.
For there would be no mercy granted.

She found her Pa there in the kitchen
She raised her branch and started switchin'.
Her father awoke and screamed in wrath.
He tried to run and clear a path.
But Laura dear just kept on hitting.
He started cursing, fighting, spitting.

Her father suffered so many blows.
Just how many, no one knows.
He screamed until there was notheing left.
Not of the branch or his breath.
Laura knelt down by his side.
Unto the sun she would not abide.

Upon his cheek she pressed her lips
and traced his face with fingertips.
She took him by the legs outside,
then took him by his bleeding hide.
She lifted him with wings aloft,
he cried aloud while she just scoffed.

She stopped above her earthly tomb,
that cursed well, that demons womb.
"Father dear it's here you'll sleep,
here unto your death you'll keep."
She let him go and watched him fall,
his body slapping off the walls.

So now you know the story see.
Of our dear friend Emily.
Of what she did to be right here.
Her sins forgiven conscious clear.
I'm sure by now you surely see.
We better be nice to Emily.

My memories haunt me
Whether by sleep
Or light of day
Relentlessly they pursue me
Clawing at the fabric of my reality
Gnawing at my will
I feel little at this point
I’ve bled out all that I love
I’ve been told
I should forgive myself
That I need not suffer anymore
Damnation my salvation

I don’t feel alone because I’m alone, I feel alone because you’re here
So while I’m an expert on beer and scotch let me just make myself clear
Because in the morning, I won’t know **** including your name my dear

Nobody knows what life is, they’ll say they do but they lie
They’ll tell you it’s love, finding love, and some **** about the man in the sky
Truth be told, nobody knows, especially you or I

It’s like I’m running a race, and millions of people are there
We’re all running towards the sun, and they seem so **** unaware
And I can’t even have one minute, to show someone that I care

Just tell me you’re lost too, just tell me you know it’s a sham
Relieve me of all this ****** doubt while we drink and not give a ****
Cause tomorrow I’ll forget all this and we’ll have to begin again

I’ll be shaving my ******* while you’ll be licking your wounds.
We finished the whiskey while you were praying to moons.
I dug up your garden and sang you a song in the rain.
You laughed while I cried and told the night she’s insane.
I chewed on your *** and held your head as you cried
You told me you loved me then you told me you lied
So I sold off my ego and drank till I couldn’t see
You asked for whom does the bell toll and I said for thee
I’d ask for a minute so I could come down from this high
I went to get sober and then you said goodbye

It doesn’t matter how dark the night gets.
It doesn’t matter how thick the forest becomes.
It doesn’t matter how much I drink.
Nor does it matter how much I sleep.
Whenever I turn around.
I’m still here.
And nothing else makes me sadder.

Somewhere between the cigarettes, cherry blossoms, and bourbon
In that dream that happens after the alarm goes off
When the sun says goodnight and the moon says good morning
In the forest of trees scarred by declarations of love long lost
Wading in and out of hope and resolve
These are the places where my thoughts find you
Where my heart keeps you

Get a skill, go to work, do something that you love.
I happen to love ******* with my favorite latex glove.
Well no not that do something that will make you feel empowered.
Like that time I did coke while getting golden showered?
Not so much I just think you could find a good vocation.
I did, last summer, in Detroit, I got arrested for solicitation.
You could find a job in which you’re proud of the sweat upon your back.
Well I put down in my resume that I’m a urophiliac.
A job is something of honor into which you could place your pride.
I’m working on an **** **** that I call slip n glide.
Don’t you want to be able to buy those things that you really want?
Nah, not really, I’m happy here, just a worn out silly

You’re standing in line to get a coffee
and some lady is speaking Spanish.
You can’t believe your ears as you order your favorite danish.
You whirl around with all the fury of a cat five hurricane
Because suddenly everyone should witness your obvious disdain
“This right here is America and in America we speak English
I should know, I’m from here, I’m a cunning linguist”
You throw a fit and yell at her as if you’re so entitled
Unleashing your opposing views your hatred is unbridled
But here’s a lil secret of which I’m sure you’re unaware
You could drop down dead right then and not a single soul would care
We’re just going to step right over you while you lay there huffin
Honestly I don’t care
I just want my ****** muffin
So you go on about your tantrum about how nothing's ever fair
I’ll just go to where you aren’t  and I’ll be over there

An amber moon painted against a silken sky in hues of blue
She sighs out of relief as her maiden steps out into the light
The southerly wind bides it’s time, knowing just where to find her

The same place I find her. The maiden. Between a thought and a dream.
The steam from a cup of tea floats up like a specter
And reminds me of her.
How it is she moves.
Between a thought and a dream.

The maiden looks upon the moon and smiles.
As if acknowledging an old friend.
She rests herself in the grace of its light and embraces it without gesture.
Just in spirit.
They have a mutual understanding of what it means to be alone.

A book lies before me on the small table in front of the tea shop.
Odysseus and Penelope.
I wonder if she’s read it.
Or would she let me read it to her.

She takes three flowers from her garden and nods to the moon.
Before retreating back into her home.
Across the street from where I sit.
Every Friday night.
At the No. 13 Tea Shop.

My days and nights fold over one another, going unnoticed.
I do not suffer any day save Friday. Wherein I’ll find her again.
Across the street from the No. 13 Tea Shop.
Right about the time my tea is placed before me by a man with seemingly no tongue.
Because he never speaks to me.

I’ve watched Odysseus slay the cyclops a hundred times.
From my chair, before the ghosts that spring from my tea.
And again she steps outside her home. Rinsing off the day in the light of the moon.

I’d longed to approach her. To tell her of the feelings that stir within.
Just at the sight of her.
To tell her a joke so that I may hear that laugh of hers.
I’d heard it once before.
While she watched the stars play amongst the grass in the park.
Where I first saw her.

Since then. A hundred cups of tea later. I sat here still.
As if I were watching a doe in the wood.
Hesitant to move to suddenly.
For fear that she’d somehow escape my dream.

Finally I’d decided that I’d haunt her no more.
That I’d cease my foolish endeavors in trying to muster the courage to speak to her.
I begrudgingly withdrew myself from my favorite chair.
Heeding the chance to see her one last time. To bless my soul with the knowledge that she still exist.
I’d resign her to being just a dream.

For how would I approach her in anyway.
To tell her that she is ether for my heart.
Alas, I should let this lion of a moment sleep.
To stir it couldn’t possibly bode well for I or my heart.
Someone as wondrous as her has only to be visiting. For I do not see how heaven could function without her.

I approached the shop keeper to settle my tab. He silently refused my payment for the tea.
I insisted that the tea be paid for.
His smile, seemingly etched onto his face only grew.
“Your tea has been paid for, as has every tea of yours for the next month.”
“You owe me nought, why would you do this?” I replied.
“I didn’t.”
He smiled once more at my confused expression.
Then he looked past me and motioned behind me.
There she stood. At the top of her steps.
“Seems someone has decided they don’t want you to go.” He said.

Just by coincidence.
On the day I’d finally decided that my courage had failed me.
She lifted my weary soul.
In front of the No. 13 tea shop.

Loneliness is when you’re so broken, you don’t want to waste anyone’s time in telling them how lonely you are.
So.
You live in silence. Hoping and waiting for the day, the night, the moment when the silence becomes eternal.

There are these days. They stain our memories. But in a good way. In January, when winter is catching its second breath and the night is as clear as something that just happened. The moon scours the landscape like a spotlight looking for its love.
Or the fall. Mid October. Wading through drifts of dead leaves. An eerie reminder of mortality birthed in a sunset of colors and cast down by time.
It's these days that come to pass, I try to give them meaning. If by no other measure than my own, I worry their fate of being forgotten. So I do something out of my ordinary routine. A bookmark of sorts. Because perhaps I spent that day with you. I fear nothing more than having woken up one day and not remembering you.

I have a red room
Down the end of the hall
It’s quiet and warm in there
My crimson red room
At the end of the hall
It’s when you’ll find me where
I have a black pipe
In that red room
It’s resting upon a table
It’s always there
Waiting for me
Even when I am unable
You can sneer
At my blood red room
Please go ahead and scoff
I’ll be smoking
My pipe in there
And you can just *******

Is who we are
Where we’re going
Or simply where we’ve been
Or are the details
In our actions
What we did and when
Perhaps it’s in our words
When we speak
Or when we don’t
Could be when we listen
And not replying
As we are wont
My guess is
Tis all these things
By which we are measured
Unto ourselves
Or by some god
What is lost and what is treasured

There was that time.
And the time before that.
And then the time before that.
And by the time
I figured it out.
I’d run out of time.

Gonna snort some drano
I can explain though
Just want to turn my thoughts
To snow so
I can forget
Or rather split
My memories like atoms
Since I’ve had em
They’re soft cells
I can’t resell
Waking me up at three
Like a doorbell
Whiskey saturation
It’s like mental *******
The same **** stories
Not worth infatuation
So I figure a lil poison
To **** the noise and
Bring a lil peace
And put a cease
To these dreams
That just won’t stop

Look it here
Made you a snack
Just a lil sumtin
From way out back

Now listen here
Don’t draw your string
Just settle down
Cause here’s the thing

You’re not here
You’re over there
How’re ya now?
I don’t care

Accept the fact
You could now be wrong
About yourself
Don’t think too long

Laugh a lil
At yourself in kind
Hate begets hate
Keep that in mind

Before you speak
Do they care
Or would you
If standing there

Nothings life
Is worth less than yours
If it breaths
Dress it’s sores

Once you’ve got
What it is you need
Leave the rest
And ditch the greed

Savor each moment
For what it’s worth
Whether it be death
Or birth

And finally

Karma isn’t ******* real
The universe cares not
You really thinkin Saturn
Gives a **** about what you got

They told me to be who I am when I got here
But I don’t know who that is
Can I step out for just a sec
And come back in again

It wouldn’t occur to me
To ask of you
To ever think
Of I
Though I’ll never stop
Thinking of you
Until the day I die

I thought about you today
I walked out into the silence
Because I needed that moment
Where I could just stop my world
And think about you
You don’t have to say anything
You could just smile
Or not
Still though
I think about you

A spring of night bubbled from atop her crown
It meandered down past her cheeks
Small streams of starless skies rounded her chin
Then fell upon her shoulders and pooled around her neck

The snow drifts lie like bears asleep as the moon she tries and sees
Through the clouds that waltz before her and the forest through the trees
I wander amongst the ruins of what now seems but a dream
Where once our spirits danced like leaves cast upon a stream
The shadows change their shapes and wants before my watchful gaze
I run my fingers down your note and think back to those days
We’d built a fire together that should have burned a thousand years
Unfazed by winds of wonder withstanding doubt and tears
You said you’d make it clear to me on how I could win your heart
That you’d write me a note explaining how we’d never part
You’d gone to town that mornin and left me before I woke
Perhaps if you’d waited for me, my heart would not be broke
I found the note a lil wet and the ink had run it’s course
It looked like your handwriting if you’d written it in Norse
It’s what should happen when one tucks the note under a coaster
Your unclear directions are why my ****’s stuck in this toaster
Oh, and I burnt down the house

It should go without saying,
without thought of delaying,
that if you go without saying
you’re only delaying
what could possibly be something to say.
Conversely should you stay
with something to say
and then say what you need to say.
You could then say you didn’t delay or waste the day having gone without saying your say.

I envy those that have never found themselves asking if they were alone.
To be Frank. I’d have to change my name.
Though if I’m being honest.
It terrifies me.
The thought of you feeling like I do.

Those frosted amber days of fall have come into fruition
Leaves fall like money dropped, the trees just paying tuition

The dew upon the spiders web as if all she caught were diamonds
And sunlight spills out on the valley to nudge the sleeping highlands

Tell me then just what you said from behind that veil of fire
That night we saw it all come down and you called the moon a liar

These days fall short of 5 o’clock and the night is extra quiet
It hangs its head and drags its feet with no one to stand by it

I’ll tell you what you told me as your lips were burned away
You said “maybe, I don’t know. But I can’t, not here today”

This is why I don’t mind that there’s a vacancy in my life
No confusion to be sorted out no cursing and no strife

So I’ll drag my feet along with the night through streams of dying leaves
And those who see me on the rivers shore will know the one who grieves

I’d write you a poem but my hands are too cold
There’s little light where I am
And my will is growing old

I’d say the last time I saw you, under an electric moon
Was the last time I felt warm
And you took that warmth too soon

Bast and I still speak of you, over fires and amber soaked rocks
That smile that lit a world
My sadness that memory mocks

I have no one to send this to, no one I’d expect cares
Perhaps one day you’ll read this
And see I’m always there

The whiskey ran out but the shrooms kicked in
So I’m off to a pretty good start
The church bells ringing reminds me of home
And covers the sound of my ****

I found my fingers on the ends of my hands.
I thought I’d never find them
I needs these fingers to catch these thoughts
So that I may hush and bind them

I lit you a candle and it burnt down the house
But I found your diamond ring
You could give it to that charred mockingbird
Though I doubt he’s gonna sing

Just hold on my nuts, when I order a sundae
I sold my epi pen
There’s a blind lady waiting to tell me some lies
About how she’s back again

Sitting under a bodhi tree, hoping for some truth
Or even a sincere lie
I’ll burn to ash every **** tree in these forests
If I thought we both would die

They’re like those puddles of rain.
The ones you find in a parking lot littered with oil spots. The colors that swirl about within. You just gotta stop sometimes and look at them. Just for a moment. Give them all of you. Maybe you part ways with nothing. Or. You walk away having seen something that no one has ever seen. And it’s yours. To think back on at your leisure. Forever.
These people.

If what matters to you, is the illusion; then let the illusion become what matters.

It’s not what they say or how they say it. It’s how you take it in.
If you’re wondering aloud “what’s it for”, that’s where you should begin.

A bear is a bear because you called it a bear, the bear itself don’t care.
It’s not aware that it’s called a bear, it’s simply not here or there.

Your existence is so improbable, in fact the chances are practically zero.
But here you are, the king of your dreams. Your very own ****** hero.

A photon can traverse the universe from billions of light years away.
Only to die in the blink of your eye at the end of another bad day.

If you assign a thought to someone and hold them to that standard.
It’s you, not them, that stepped right up and wrecked your delusion of grandeur.

I think it was Matthew at 6:14 who said forgive them for what they’ve done.
Those that would trespass against us, before gods dying son.

There’s nothing to prove that every creature doesn’t share in your same fears.
Will it die for reasons unknown or has it a few more years?

This wasn’t suppose to make sense, it’s simply some observations.
That’ve come into view under many a sky while searching for constellations.

Though I urge you to think about these in moments of conflict and strife.
Kindly remember that while we’re here, what matters is only life.

It happened just a minute ago and maybe a light year away
Then again I’m a lil drunk so it might’ve been yesterday

I could’ve sworn or so I thought that I saw your shadow there
I’m not going to say it startled me, just caught me unaware

So I threw a rope around the sun and tied it to the mountains
It’s light fell upon the jagged cliffs and splashed amidst the fountains

Your shadow sat and stayed with me while the world got lost again
We talked of our ideas on things and what could be come when

The stars demanded I free the sun and set her on her way
This means your shadow will have to go so they can have their day

I bid your shadow a fond farewell and turn back towards the moon
I take the rope from around the sun and tell it to come back soon

This here poem is about a puppy, you need not know his name
Only in that he is a puppy, you should know him all the same
This here puppy had an awareness not unlike your own
He knew he had to lick his ***** and hide his ****** bone

This little puppy stumbled about, much like you once did
Back when you were a dumb as **** snot faced little kid
The puppy found his world confusing much like you still do
But unlike you this puppy knows he hasn’t a ****** clue

See here what this puppy knows, is that it’s ok to have no reason
To call into doubt what you think you know, isn’t ******* treason
This here puppy he figured out that his reality isn’t fixed
In fact it’s incomplete, not done, any beliefs he had were nixed

You could learn a lot from him, if you’d only stop a bit
Put aside your petty wants, try thinking while you ****
Wisdom and compassion you’ll see walk hand in hand
Be considerate of your actions, keep your head out of the sand

This puppy has no enemies and yet you have a million
If you lived but ten more years, I bet you’ll have a billion
Try being like the puppy, just appreciate what you’ve been given
Sometimes it takes just a smile to see why life’s worth liven

What yonder light they said be seen; in hues of yellow, red, and green
Fields of satin sands run high; beneath the clouds as they roll by
The dolphins play amidst the surf; the bays, the waves, the sea their turf
A gulf born whispering wind; will find its way and begin again
There’s nothing here to be said about i; another cloud just passing by

Look it here what I did with words; I lay them out till each one curds
Then I skim them tops with my favorite knife; just leave them with a little life
Just enough for them to be true; when they whimper “I love you”
This rhyming **** isn’t so hard, most words used are just plain lard

I’ll probably stop on this verse three; in keeping with the trinity
Don’t wanna ******* any would be gods; just in case they’re not all frauds
Besides let’s just be honest here; nothings ever crystal clear
Like this here flow it has no meaning; just the ravens eyes in the darkness, gleaming

So here at last it’s come to pass these things we weren’t expecting
Shining a light on certain things of which we were neglecting
Streets are barren, save the Karen’s fighting over tissue
Who would’ve thought wiping our knots could turn out to be an issue

The government’s lying, people are dying, but some of us have Hulu
I’m down to watching documentaries on that man named Shaka Zulu
Coyotes are back to eating cats, no one to chase them off
If they could get sick, you could do it real quick, probably with a cough

Maybe we’ll see, I mean you and me, just how fragile we really are
Just how this tiny, little virus can leave a nasty scar
Though it seems that hope got sick and is in the ICU
I wish you the best, unlike the rest, who have come to pay their due

I beseeched along the road I walked, these things I held so dear
Hoping all along one day to see my path laid clear
Those dreams I had of her and I
These stones that I’ve collected
Now litter my past, that went so fast, more so than I expected

Am I supposed to feel regardless?
As to whether the sun finds me well or not.
Or if the moon should find me at all.
I ask you for nothing save this.
Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.
In what little time I have
That comes in like a soft breeze and curls upon a dune
Tell me a secret
Who do you want to love and who you do love
What that thought was you had that time
Beseech me with a memory I can tell the gods about
Something
Anything
To make me feel a little less regardless

It’s a schizophrenic utopia in here.
Voices walk the halls
ahead of the shadows.
Every time I reach for the bottle
I’m afraid the universe is going to fold in on itself.
The wolves stand in the entryway.
Watching me kiss the red flower.
The smoke seeps from my skin
and I close my eyes.
Only to find you there again.
So I take another hit.
Look one more time at the hand I was dealt.
And say ”**** it”,
while reaching for that bottle.
I fold.