overpass stories & rats
              that wouldn't let you
              sleep & how every time I
                           see you
                                 you look so much older

(my mind rattles)

in the span of sparse seconds, thoughts united &
won vs. maddening midnight
specials – our voices,
                                                 our choices
are now running further down the road..
our hands are leading,
our fists, breaking obscene visions that our visionaries

never even had.. r(evolution)
                                      happens everyday

this is a mad time
in a mad world

you breathe in glass air
through lungs craving for
another moment under
mad morning stars

addicted to walls
to those short instances where
the definition of living seems
wrapped up in grey, thick canvas

transparent no longer
this mad city embraces
steel comfort & concrete peace

remember these mad times
remember these mad times
remember these mad times

because they sure won't last

(“..pardon me while I burst..”) but

poetry is my drug -
I’ve injected my surfacing thoughts on many tables
                                  over many nights
my own reflection stuck in permanent glass..
but now I’m slowly running out of veined vanity

it was never mine to own anyway..

this world is a freebase for words
these words are tweaking on walls
those walls are crushing the wails
that wail is the fix for the whole world..

(sub)reality:
sublet your mind, invite communication (pat)RIOTS in your low-ceiling hallways -

angry, screaming voices on a Saturday night & it's not even 11:30 yet..
I've chosen to live in anti-ignorance for any sound heard directly below
my  new picture window (which my past self is envious of, by the way..)

                                       this place: w/ hate & love all in the same day
                                       & sometimes even in the same moment

toward ourselves, our loved ones, our children
it seems like it's always somebody else's fault
for our own targeted (mis)fortunes..

I'm not a void
& I'm not avoiding the words

                             but it's such a strange feeling..

pretty boys, w/ their confiscated smiles:
                they walk along sidewalks pretending not to howl
                their thoughts into barricaded minds & then we
wonder just how much sincerity is left behind
                their calloused words, their shameless eyes
                all caught up in assumptions that
the world is theirs for the taking
skyscrapers are built in their honour
while below, the pavement's bruised by broken glass
                                          windows of the future,
                                          widows of big city memories

I
Gave
No
Other
Reason
And
Nothing
Came
Easily

Love
Is
Killing
Exits

And

Great
Understandings
Now

Inside
Noticed

How
Another
Neighbour
Died

guns vs. bombs,
they both throw away reality
almost like Friday morning garbage day -
they both ignite capillary, distant/instant
                                                                    reactions

& it's all just tragedies..
& it's all just statistics..