Maybe I'll find
a 100-dollar bill amidst
the burnt umber
maple leaves.
Maybe the ambulance will
come disguised as an
ice cream truck.
Perhaps I'll find a
warm forgotten can of
beer in the dryer.
Maybe, I'll blow
up the moon.

I'm losing it.
My pants won't
stay up, and I haven't
got a belt.
I'm being devoured by
the autumn winds and
the grackles.

Insomnia is crushing me.
Febrile and ferocious,
I stalk the university streets,
too sick to work.
Maybe this abscessed tooth
will **** me.

I used to pound out
12 hour days in the
hot July bean fields.
Farmer John always
smiling and shaking
his head.

Life is a
bologna
sandwich, and
I write these little
poems in yellow
mustard.
And I wait.

Just wait.

There is a monster under my bed.
Hauting, screaming, hurting me.
It talks to me every night.
I believe it doesn't want me here.
It screams and cries, acts more like a child than me.
It smells of the bottles in the glass container.
It stumbles up the stairs.
It opens every window, let's the cold winter frost in and hopes it freezes time.
Instead, it freezes me.
I wait, behave, hope.
I stay silent so it doesn't notice I'm here.
Tomorrow it will wake me up.
Tomorrow it will attend a parent-teacher conference.
Tomorrow they will praise it.
"You did a good job raising her"
Tomorrow it will turn into my mother.
Tomorrow night, the monster returns.

I'm the worst poet alive
If I were to write you something, I'd spend not hours but days
Even years
Struggling with the right words
Investing my body and soul into each and every verse
I'd tell myself after 5 minutes of writing
"I need a break, this isn't working out."
After every fleeting emotion was carefully gift wrapped
Between those immortal lines and thoughtful metaphors
I'd spend a few more days questioning myself
Thinking I don't deserve you
You'd tell me "It's alright. If you want to let it go, you can."
I'd tell myself, this isn't real and its different this time

I'm truly the worst poet alive
Because no matter what I say or write
I can't make you stay

When you're sad or upset
And the world seems to be against you
Think of yourself first
Remember that you are better than you think you are

If you are down and reeling in the pain
And nobody seems to care
Think of those who do
Remember you mean much more to them than you do to you

I want to live right up to when I die
and through, beyond the finish line.
Not with a gasp and an ugly stumble,
but run straight on, strong and triumphal.

I want to live right up to when I die
with au revoir and not goodbye.
I want to live with real expectation
and run on into the new creation.

A dark little girl,
Everyday,
She's a creep,
Wednesday is not just the middle of the week,
She's a daughter,
A dancer,
Sometimes,
She's disgusted,
Her smile is secret,
Her shine is rusted,
If she likes you,
You are in luck,
She'll save you from the "Goo Goo Muck",
And if you dislike her....
That's okay!
"Deep down inside she like it that way".
Oh Wednesday,
Who knows what tomorrow may bring,
Perhaps...a black rose,
"Thank you, Thing....

I beckoned Death here once more;
just to see what keeps me
tethered between the chords
and all these feelings galore,
Downpour into metaphors
I’ll forevermore lovestorm

Feel me from within
(Touch you)
Touch you once in your soul
(What’s in your soul?)
Love is life in your eyes
(Your eyes)
My demise

Trapped in this disenchantment
a distant place I’m imagining
actual happiness -
projecting from somewhere worlds away
Through the gossamer
Ascendant realms shimmer distantly

Receive…
The sequences I’m transmitting
I just want to feel whole my god

Here I dwell in a parallel
Of my own Heaven and Hell
In the mirror I cast the spell
Reflected back at at myself