Wading through a passive aggressive retort
With a fever coming on, voice horse
Knowing that you are falling ill
Work like a fist in the stomach against your will
Tapping out a code of morse to a time before the workforce

The Peanuts Christmas Music
is already playing on the radio
It's impossible to grab a loaf of bread
or a gallon of milk with out hearing
So many memories
it makes me so sad to hear
The sound of the piano
a part of me hears it, dies inside
thinking of those times that are gone
but were always kind of sad in the first place

But then why does a part of me
secretly love this feeling
Why does it feel good to be so
utterly sad?
Similar in effect to the child watching a
scary film through strategically placed fingers
they do not want to be scared but deep down
they secretly love to be afraid
Why do we do this to ourselves?
And why are most not honest about it?
Why are we broken?
Or maybe we are not

I never liked the Peanuts anyway

Sewn together out of old
flannel memories and work shirts of the past
a network of  veins
plumping generations of
angry blood
We carry traces of mean,
scared people
Terrible things
not fondly remembered
at reunions
And yet are present in the tapestry

But

There are many
kind
compassionate
beautiful souls as well

They are all on your tapestry
Know it
and display it well

Emotions and negative feelings
people's poisonous barbs
attacks and regret
Shame and anger
become bottled up
into a prescription bottle
or better yet
one of those old
medicine cabinets that you drop your razors
into the slot it the back
more and more the rusty razors pile
up into the pit of unseen darkness

One day soon it will be
time to renovate and you will have to
deal with those razors in the wall

Those moments
They just hit you
Catch in your throat
Most often Sunday nights
But they can happen at any time
The most maudlin melancholy
Thoughts concentrated into
My chest
The sadness is uncontrollable
Everything is upsetting
I feel like a pressure release valve
For the world
Every emotion seems to have
a corresponding ****** fluid
The tears are welling up but have not
left my eyes
And just as soon as the feelings have washed
over me,
they are
gone.
The steam has dissipated
and I go about my evening

A twitch and a instant
she is awake
light peeks into the room
through a cracked window
She wipes at the tight skin
around the corner of her cheek
from where her drool dried
as she takes in this
Bleach Bypass World
There is a red infected
burn mark above her upper lip
must have tucked her hand
to her face with the lighter
still in it.
These things get harder to explain
Love it. Hate it.
Hate...that she loves it

He has more invested
Second nature, this style
of life
It was a hook up
A **** buddy
A mistress
One more for old times sake
A marriage
The monkey tattooed on his
left arm used to lead to laughs
Ironic
Literally feeding the monkey
The jokes are gone
But the monkey is
hungrier than ever.

He sees her across the room
She is crying and touching her lip
He hates her
She loves him
He loves her
She hates him
He hates himself
He picks up the lighter
from the floor next to the
**** smelling couch she is sitting on

Halloween
to me
will always
smell like
Chocolate
in a
Pillowcase

It is understood about me
that I can sit still in a room
by myself
And I can.
Try it again
and next time
you look up
...I am gone

To me
more than just a vessel to the afterlife
but it might just be

I build my pyramid on the carpet
4x3
One by three by five by seven
So on and so forth

Above all this pyramid has the power
to change my life
Monetarily
Immortality
or
most importantly
for myself
right
here
(The Heart)

I am angrier at thirty
Than at any other age in my life

Rainy days and Mondays
Piloting my car like a
river boat captain
on a shiny Mississippi
It is morning but still dark
an eye dropper of blue has
been added to the sky
and what was once black
has now slowly spread to purple
A purple macchiato in the atmosphere

I pass by a convenient store
It looks like an oasis in the dark rain
Soft blue lights reflecting on wet asphalt, illuminated marquee
an old cinematographer trick  

This is my time
This is where I live
This is me.
My true self
before,
I am stained by work

I was sitting on a park bench
Two days ago
After putting in some overtime
When a pair of kids walked by
"Life is so dope"
Said one to the other
It was said with sincerity
Not a hint of irony
It was beautiful
I was hit with a moment of
Satori

Life is so dope.

Everybody is right
Everybody is wrong
But the truth is
Nobody knows what is going on

I am stuck in the darkness
A world so bad it has to be real
My dreams never cease to surprise me
in thier vividness
I wake up to my relief
Only to be ****** back into terror
Long shadowy arms extend from my ceiling
And hold me down
I can't move
I try to shout for help...
The shadow covers my mouth
...I live alone anyway
The fear creeps through me
as the electricity of this
shadowy intruder
keeps me still
Panic
And just as fast as it began
the shadow creeps back to the corners
it grew from
and I can move again.

It's three in the morning.
But I am not going back to sleep
I open a book and read instead.

The observant person
will never cease to be
entertained

The greatest cure for depression
I have ever witnessed
Is a tiny little
cat named
Lil Bub

A smile that tastes like
Burt's Bees
You are welcome

In the dark we clutch our coffee
half as tight as we clutch each other
Breath escaping as puffs of steam
as we are illuminated by the icicle
lights that float above Davis Street
Frozen in time, we should only be so lucky

Let's grow old together
and raise a Christmas Tree Farm

I fell in love with the whole Bay Area
SF
Monterey
Santa Cruz
Napa
Sonoma
Big Sur
I sit here still and I am stunned by it's beauty
It might be my favorite place on earth.

"Why don't you move there"
They ask.

For the same reason I keep certain people that interest me
at a distance.

Sometimes you don't want your illusion to be replaced
with the truth.

Sometimes it's better to let it live inside you and just visit.

Also never meet your heroes.


...just kidding. Try to meet them all.

I am afraid
Not just of getting old
Not just of dying
Not just of being alone
I am afraid of dying,
old and alone.
But worst of all
with nothing to show for
it...

Poetry is a start.

Imagine a castle in the middle of a city
It sticks out to say the least
A sentinel of the city
The Kingdom of Fairmount
Steve Buscemi says it is
a prison of:
Silence
Cats
Ghosts
Tourists
Filmmakers
Gangsters
I crane my neck and take one last look
before heading to the Trestle Inn
for a drink and dancers.

They are everywhere
Came to the party uninvited
and stayed well past "?"
I caught one, my last night
in Florida
It didn't want to let go
An ornament on my finger
I said
"Nice to meet you."

No grin, frog lips
It's run, jump, punch
parta the apocalypse
Tired of being the
last ball in the hopper
Worth more than the
price of the copper

...now listen...

Jonzin for the days
Of Zee Emerald
and a loose tooth
**** is ephemeral
Like the era in a phone booth
Put a quarter up
E.T. Phone home
Kids today never had to
fear that dial tone...

I want to burn
More than anything
I need to feel and fuel
My own fire that
I know is my core
Ignite me
So I can ignite you
Watch it spread
I promise
You will enjoy it
I want to burn

The chilly air has settled in
Fall has clocked in and everyone
knows it.
We make the appropriate
changes and continue

It's hard to crawl out of a bar
     When everyone keeps
    Stomping on your hands

The setting was a back country road
The script was minimal
Descriptions mostly
It was us two
Acting mostly with our eyes and smiles
Actors don't know how to act with their eyes
Anymore
The natural light of the sun
Illuminated you in the most majestic
of ways
The whole day was magic hour
And few get to act with their muse

Can this adult life be more absurd?
Ghostman on third!

I would see him in the mornings
He
Like me liked to get to work early
gently puffing away on his cigarette
The Man in the building who smokes
I thought he was a little scary
at first
seemed grumpy and aloof
gray and wrinkled
lines forming around his mouth
like bowing natives around a fire
The Man in the building who smokes
was actually kind of funny
when I (you?) got to know him
Standing outside
rain - sleet - snow
more dependable than the mail
or our couriers
He didn't take anyone's guff
and could tell you a million jokes
if you had a bad day
He even figured out where the buildings property stopped
so he could continue being
The Man in the building who smokes
I took some days off
and then it got busy
days turning into weeks
I asked my co worker if he has seen
The Man in the building who smokes.

Today was my last day of work
Tomorrow is looking different
I sat down and stared at the
wall...

Some days it's musty
Especially after a summer rain
The yellowed steeple chase wall paper peels back in places
It's pretty big for an efficiency
One big room in the top floor
Cut out of an old faded yellow house
It is compartmentalized like a CIA agent
The bathroom is the color of rust
On rainy days the door jam swells
and the wood panelling in the walls heave
The textured ceiling in between
fake styrofoam wooden beams makes
Me feel like I am inhabiting my own cave
or cabin
Many people I know couldn't live like
I do
This is my home
This is my garret
Alone I write.

Every night I die
And
Every morning I am born again
But after my shower
I am reanimated

I think of you and it shows
I try to write poems but they come out as prose
I play it cool, keep it close to the vest
But DOOM said it best
She winks rainbows

A panic attack has a way of creeping up on you
At the start of one, you always think to yourself
"No this can't be happening"
Much like the feeling you get before you
Throw Up
The heat comes on so strong and forceful
Your internal fire, dead set on burning you
from the core out
You hadn't noticed because your knees just buckled
and you went numb
The tremors
you feel them in your fingers
To your shoulders
To your tounge
Hyperventilating
The extra oxygen
Feeds the flames

Once,
With the help from a Brittle Lake
I was able to prevent this state

Seven bucks to rent a kayak
I sliced into the lake
I paddled and paddled and paddled
My arms were introduced to a new kind of fire
A blue cleansing flame
Take a break and drift
Listen
Breath
Lament
Paddle
Feel the warmth of the sun on your face
Paddling again, now it's the breeze and spray
A smile creeped upon my face
At Lake Brittle I was able to keep the panic at bay

Sometimes it feels like leaving home
wearing mismatched shoes
I will make my way in this
world if it's the last thing I do

Put that song on repeat
We got comfy under my sheet
A night at the bar
When you could still puff a cigar
Oh the stuff I think, when I use my skull meat

Doc
I wish I could be half the man you are
The first day I met you
You suffered a stroke.
Drove yourself to the hospital
and still felt bad for breaking our appointment


Doc
You taught me so much
in such short time
You showed me the acorn
That is inside of us all
You taught me how to care for it
And how to help others as well

Doc
You taught me about being
kind and selfless
The we and not the me
You taught me about
Stewardship
Crazyhorse
And other ways of seeing.
About the kids that need a chance
Not to mention a rest
I learned about when you pulled a live grenade
from a soldier's chest

Doc
All I can say is thank you
for sharing your spirit with me

I might be waiting at line for Coffee
It's 2014 and I am in Starbucks
But when "As Time Goes Bye"
plays on the speaker
I am at Rick's
If only for a moment

I wish I could
Inhale my morning coffee
And
Drink the morning air

Where the **** were you
when the page was blank?

I used to be a mystic
Or at least what I thought was one
Effortless it was as a child to be completely
Transformed
Transported
Transfixed
It was more than pretend
I was these people
I went to these places
As the dust settled and the years have gone bye,
It has gotten harder to find these places again.
To be these people
It's only a feeling now
Here and there
When I stare at the lines
in my hands
I only get glimpses
Like the aftertaste of a single malt
lingering like a memory
Only a non mystic would use that metaphor
But I feel like I was a mystic longer than most

My phone has been drinking,
not me.

Few things feel better than
being able to get people who
are regarded by others as shy or introverted
to open up to you

Those others are missing out
on beautiful conversation

Sometimes people need to be rescued
Well,
here I come.

I was just a kid
It was first grade
I knew we were at war
Saw it on the news
We stood a lot longer in the mornings now
We always said the pledge
But now we sang
"Proud to Be An American"
Every day for about a month
I really liked singing it
Once I got in trouble because I was walking down the hall back to class when it was on
I was told I should have stopped until it was over
Chris and I used to make Scud and Patriot missiles during indoor recess with our Legos
We did our part
I hurt my eye one day and had to wear a patch
I had to stay inside and play a game with Mr. K
"Do you want to play Scud Missiles?" I asked
He looked at me with an eyebrow arched
smirked a little bit and said
"How about we play checkers instead?"

A Toast
Holding up a ***** gimlet
Told the bartender how to make it
Most will give you a look before rifling
Through the book

Their are really just two points of view
External Influence
And reality as you see it
I know a balance of both is closer to true
But sometimes the external leaves you
with a horrible feeling deep in your personal hells
You don't feel the way you should
Some people waste their time absorbing Everyone Else
I will take my chances and be more like Ed Wood

I will take another ***** Gimlet please.

Walking through a dim lit wood
The far off scent of firewood and nosetalgia  
creeps up my back like an old Army Blanket
A shade appears before me
Without words I follow
Further and further
The translucent green shade leads on
I come to a great oak tree
A very old strand of barbed wire
appears to be melted into the tree
It is very dark now
the shade is gone
In these woods
Man's boundaries
Meet
Nature's patience

I remember that summer
He covered everything
Windows
Walls
Buildings
Phone Booths (when they were just about extinct)
The sign above constitution avenue
Water fountains
He could be found next to **** Smoothie and
Cool "Disco" Dan on the red line near Takoma
Bush hates BORF

He was caught though

July 29

BORF covered everything
Adulthood
Consumerism
Hip Hop
Suicide
Laws
Politics
Obama hates BORF

Borf loved to write on people's stuff
A lot
Grown ups are obsolete
Sorry about your wall
BORFs friends live on
BORF was here
And left after writing this...

We all have those moments that stay with us
Frozen in the  video screen that is our head
like a lost cable connection
The last frame stays with you

Once my life was a Better Than Ezra song
"I remember running through the wet grass,
falling a step behind"
I caught up to you
The grass was wet
The trickle of the run beside us
was our only audience
Under the gazebo
"Are you going to kiss me?"
She asked for the first time
Ever.
I answered her.

I heard that song a few days later
The moment is inseparable
Locked away in the time capsule
that is my heart

Has it been so long?
Since the days Crack Music and Gold Digger played
on the radio
The best of time with two
of the best I know

Arguments of Art
Night drives and cab fares
Late Registration was our soundtrack
Creeping by the exorcist stairs

Some days something can hit me just right
and I remember those nights
Clove Cigarettes
Tom Collins
A case of beer
and I am brought back to senior year
Drive Slow