I am alone again. It's time to clean out the dark corners of my mind
And sweep the pieces together. They glitter below the naked light bulb
This was the poem I began in haste
this is the line I wish to replace
The feelings I feel are true
A question myself as I walk
How I dream of lying next to you-
I want to share this experience
This pinpoint in (time) in which we were both born
on the precipice of something great
on the edge of decisions
all I know is that i feel the warmth of sun when you look at me
When you speak I am whole and I linger at each word


Do not deny me!
Do not deny this love
I am many things and a liar

But you are present in my heart
and your moments in time and space
Can be prepared on an x and y axis

and there

that point where space and time curve together as two lovers
I died and when I opened my eyes to meet my maker
I was lying next to you on the grass
Because you dragged me to the drive in

and I begged for your neck
and for the softness of your eyes

You are a thorn in my soul
I cannot remove/ Let me sleep next to you
Let me sleep next to you
Let me breathe the same air you breathe
Or i fear I must deny my own soul

I ponder


Do you exist

At all...?

Have I created you?
At some point did my imaginings become reality?

Or do you actually take walks down to the seaside
Do you throw stones out past the breakers where the water is deep and dark
               or  was that I dream I had once last October



I fear reaching out to touch
Then I will learn the truth
Will my fingers find warm flesh
Or pass through a shadow of my own invention

                                                      ­        In truth it does not matter...for if you are a ghost I am quite happy                       to be forever haunted
                                                         ­   but if  you are flesh and bone let me lie next to you and spend a while feeling your heart beat beneath my finger tips

Eyes that glow amber
A vision in September

         Lovely Shade, I am captured eternal in your phantasm

i’m not afraid of blood and guts
but am of the notion of separation
perspicacity’s domain is under my shoe
where adoration once lived
but it was late on the rent.

the doubts recede back into the ontology they sprang from
a paradox not unlike verbiage and emotion
tied together with razor wire and feathers.

i’m playing a hand of poker
where the cards are made of shame, disgust and jealousy.
the king’s looking at the queen with disdain
and furrowed eyebrows
he plans on uxoricide in her sleep.
it’s her fault for not saying “good night"
when i drew a pair of aces.
the jack and the joker are plotting raiding the medicine cabinet tonight.

but chemicals have failed us.
everything has.

we only find solace in the prayers of children
and the rain.

comforts that we once cherished
now have sharp teeth
and will lacerate you
before the sun sets.

a sick kind of lycanthropy
turns ex-lovers’ blood
into gasoline.
but we still sat on the porch and drank it
as solar flares bounced off our hips
and turned altruists into hypocrites
sweet, honest mistresses into liars
and vegetarians into fire eaters.

not much of a difference, you say?
well, the jacks have turned on one another.
it’s a battle of epic proportions
and the queen woke up just in time to slay the king.

the kingdom is in chaos.
while we weren’t looking
the peddlers turned into cannibals
and the priests now feast on peace
and tranquility.

a young, beautiful maiden
asked me to dance in the street
but i said it was too loud.

our imaginary children have been forsaken
by forgotten gods
and the beautiful music we were going to dance to
is just static.

was it always this way?
maybe we were just blinded by wanton hopes and long abandoned desires.

or maybe the king really killed the queen.

it’s darker now
and the sheep have turned in.
so have the cats and dogs and birds and plants.

but i’m still playing poker
and the static fills my head
bereft of any plans of retreat.

pride is not without a mighty downfall
nor is confidence without cracks in the tinted glass.

we all fall down.
some just more than others.

but you can only dig your hole 6 feet until the dirt comes back on top
and sometimes you can never clean it from under your nails.
and it is sentient.
it patiently collects there for days, months, even years
until it decides to strike
enveloping and suffocating
in a whirlwind of pent up rage and violence.

the children are gone
the laughter is gone
and the joy too.
the birds are without song
and the trees are without leaves
and love does not stay.

she has given up the fight.

i walk to the window.
it’s pitch black
because there is no moon.
it has deserted me along with all my
friends, lovers, acquaintances and guardian angel.
i think they’re all at a bar
making jokes and laughing at my expense.

it’s absolute zero outside.
i’m insulated by bitterness, sarcasm and apathy.
the girls stay warm
in facades
of trust, loyalty and love.

i sit back down
to play another hand
but something happens.

the kings, queens and jacks
are whispering and conspiring
shifty eyes, toothy grins
and all.

as i flip through them,
they begin making small paper cuts on my fingertips.
it doesn’t bother me
at first
but before i know it
they are moving up my arms.
not pain, just stinging.

then i’m in a state of complete paralysis.
i can’t brush them off or run outside.
i’m laying on my back
on the floor.
every time i muster a laugh
they go deeper.

they’re at my shoulders now
working their way down
at a 45 degree angle.

i know where they’re headed.

i forgot my heart is by my knees
but they can smell it

they keep working down my body
and each cut hurts more.
by the time they get to my thighs
it’s excruciating.

i mentally scream
for a God
who isn’t there
but i have a plan.

two more seconds
and i will will my heart
to stop beating
my lungs to stop pumping.

i begin to fade out
and my last vision
is one of them
maniacally frenzied
and beating at each other
in the air.

then

just blackness.

the abyss is looking back at me
and it doesn’t like what it sees.

i have saved my perfect mistake for last.

I am sick  
Not even the dogs fighting and playing
Gets me laughing anymore
I'm a slave to each breath
Controling each inhale
My hands with cuts on the fingers
The wind blows outside
But its quiet and I'm warm

Each bass line is a nuclear meltdown
Your lyrics come straight from the back of
pill bottles

It's a dream
Wide awake
The soft ache
At the base of my skull
And the point of light
Just a lamp to the right
Glows like the sun in my room
I shut it off
And lie in the dark

I listen to the shifting of the wind outside
And repeat Bible verses
As easy as reading them from the page
Theyre all the rage when I'm losing my mind
The last little bit of mind I have left
I recite First Kings under my breath
David Bowie threw me to space
And now its a race against time
A race against life
To see how long it will take me to lose my mind
I admit I have a problem
Called being bored as ****