i
saw a friend of
a friend of a
friend, tonight - they said, the night sky
was drenched with tequila sweat, hot - and the
oceans crash with waves of acid, the
forests ablaze with a hatred so hot you can't hear much
in the breeze; you
talk and i hear nothing.
i
kiss the hands of the weary
i
intoxicate and dissolve toxins
i
belong in the chaos, a puzzle
in a playground, a tire swing
a sandbox, a wine glass stained with
lips pursed desperate for change -
i
don't do much these days
i drink
i eat
and i lie awake at night

I don't write like I used to -
using excuses, like
"These are the times you write about" -
but it doesn't come, the pen has dried
the thoughts have drifted out to sea
out to pasture - off to sleep for eternity -
I don't taste food much these days,
I usually push it past my tongue deep into
my stomach like fodder into a furnace, crackling flames
boiling my voice box, wooden bones, I don't have much to say
Too much I feel lost, wasted space in a crowded room
I don't call you in this cold war, and the phone won't ring
I don't call you in this cold war, and the phone won't ring.

You didn't see me, yesterday
at the mall, outside
American Eagle, perched
over my phone, praying to God
that tomorrow's flame-filled tornados
and neon Nuclear nightmares didn't strike
like lotto tickets after 20 years salary wasted
after 20 years wasted in front of the bottom of cups
and the ends of wet joints -
No, something about today's different -
it's always darkest before the dawn
and it's always coldest before the crack,
sometimes I feel like letting go of you
and never looking back - I know
You must've figured the same
maybe I'm too wracked with disdain -