My unreachable
mother, new

and unreachable.

All the bodies I’m sent into are in pain.
A caterpillar bellies across an hour that’s been touched

by the last
butterfly’s
moment…

I know that’s easy. I’m not here
for the writing.

when you trim your ***** and your mustache with the same pair of scissors
when you hand over your entire paycheck to the bartender of doom and glee
when you write a bounced check at the grocery store
when you sleep with a girl who isn’t clean
when you’re young, lost, broken and poor
when your childhood runs hard and your luck runs out
when your best friend is dead and your other friend is ******* your girl
when your dog sleeps in the afternoon and dreams of the neighborhood *****
when your nutrients gets replaced with Xanax bars over the one who just left
when your tired eyes meet the brick & mortar of strenuous labor
when the smile is so fake that it appears genuine
when you go all in on someone you weren’t 100% sure of
when you wait on bleeding knees for the unreliable god
when you bet on the boxer that crashed to the canvas
when the interest is high and the banks are closed and the creditors don’t care about grace periods
when you understand very little and you expel a whole lot
when the cord of anxiety strangles your very essence
when you turn out to be just as everyone expected

don’t worry

it’ll all turn around

and find you again

someway

somehow.

Morning breath, hush – it stirs, it speaks,
A gift not taken, one that leaks.
Not to keep, not locked away,
Pass it forward, let it play.

Moses - what’s that in your grip?
Just a staff? No, watch it flip.
It carves the sea, it clears the way,
Not by chance - He made it stay.

A word, a hand, a glance, a beat,
Not small, not lost, not obsolete.
It tumbles, crashes, rings aloud,
A ripple tearing through the crowd.

Let life burn bright, not shrink, not fold,
Pass it down - red, fierce, bold.
It spreads, it climbs, it runs, it flies,
Lights up faces, splits the skies.

Every move, each step, a pull,
A voice that rips, that won’t grow dull.
And listen - hear that hum, that call?
“Encore,” He says – take it all.

I had a traditional American brunch: kitten noodle soup and three peanut butter and jellyfish sandwiches, and then I lifted several women over my head and placed them gently on the ground, and then I flattened a plate of waffles till they looked like pancakes.

the
smell
of the
barbecue grill
taunts
my hunger pains
I walk on by
uninvited
with no place
to
go.

The words don't form in my head like they used to.

There's nothing lucid anymore.
Nothing eloquent.

Just half aborted thoughts.
Too ugly to be born.
A constant stream of non sequiturs.

Frustration.
Intermingled with the constant state of depression.
A sad sorry excuse for a human being.
Little old misanthropic me.


Resigned to obfuscated imagery.
To broken thoughts.
To feeble ideas.
To the self loathing negative confirmation bias.
To the absolute state of my mind.

I wake up
Like
I go to sleep.
Scraping musty cigarette ash
Off my vocal chords.
A coal mine in my black lungs.

An ever present aftertaste
Of mould
Infects me, and I smell

****.

But that's just anxiety.
A schizophrenic smell.
Disassociated in my forgetfulness
I think, I remember
Rarely ******* in the sink.
But, I'm not paying attention,
Caught up in somehwere else.

Violently throwing up a cough
I purge the phlegm.
From out of my lungs-
And.
It's been really thick lately.
Oozing out my viscous soul.
Vomiting tar.
And smearing it all over myself.

With these dark tobacco stains
Pulsating formaldehyde through my veins.

And I'm
Baffled.
By my health.

It's good.

Just a little cancerous grime
Entrenched in my crevices.

A squirrel eating a star in the mouth of god