i put on
a one man show
in the base of my skull
and the audience
is dead.

everything and i
have a
cursed relationship.

i hate it
but sometimes
it tricks me
into loving it.

i hate it
so much.

i cant wait to part from it.

she screams at me
and i want to shoot myself
in the back right corner
of my head
and sometimes i laugh.

emotions are
freelance lions

they come and go
as they please

feeding on the free
*****
meat

when there is nothing besides poetry
it terrifies me.

the yolk is more achieved than i.

the shell is what
keeps me waiting.

my landlady
has died.

she sits in
a chair
which i havent
had the time
to make a make on.

it must be nice
because her house is nice.

its all old dead wood
and im satisfied
by its condition.

but my rent is due
and i dont know how
to approach an
old dead
landlady.

i figure if i take care of her dog
it will amount to something.

but i have nothing for
the dog.

i might join her
in her disposition
to negotiate
an agreement.

i might die
in the chair
beside her.

i stare you down
i see the blood in your eyes

i jump from
the ship that it was
into the sea
that it has become.