I can't breathe
I can't breathe
I can't breathe.

distant blurry bleary
out of focus vision draining away
to blackout. out of myself removed from my body

I can't breathe
I can't breathe
I can't breathe

tense tense tense; nauseous pressure in my chest
suddenly I'm Numb  
an empty vacant vessel

my head is filled with gauze
I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't move, I can't hear
I can't feel.

Detached, disconnected, despondent, dead
divorced from reality with nothing
just dread and anxiety

a persistent refrain
muffled behind cotton fog
a distant urgent shadow

I can't breathe
I can't breathe
I can't breathe

Morning. Diffuse light
through frost painted panes
xylophone alarm quantifies reticent consciousness

warm sheets a Siren Song
or ****** Lotus beckoning
to stay in comfort and familiarity

crawling to a vertical orientation
jerking into up-right ambulation
the still tepid bed implores you to stay

Dredging subconscious anxieties
nebulous worries swirl; full blown gale
Lightning fears & thunderous uncertainty flash behind groggy eyes

Backhanded ocular rub
quells queasy qualms
life is ineffably uncertain

But there’s excitement in ambiguity
satisfaction in resolution
interest in intrigue

invariable inevitability
only begets; stagnation, complacency,
boredom & apathy  

Uncertainty is positive, perhaps
a necessity even  
but then again the bed is still warm

Arduous late Winter
woes amplify in February
false hope

We’re all sick
of constrictive clothes
and cold climes conducive to staying in

Cabin fever running rampant
45° t-shirts & sunglasses
everyone driving with their windows down  

Hoping Vernal rituals
performed early will
hasten Spring’s arrival

I’m done
fed up
ready to move on

Going crazy in the cold
writhing to get moving unimpeded
by frigidness and snow

I’m ready for Spring
for Summer
for Fall

I’m ready for the scent
of thawing soil in the air
biking in the Sun, verdance, and flowers in bloom

I’m ready for grass between my toes
Fireflies, crickets, peepers
and warm night stars


I’m sick of frost reddened runny raw noses
sick of numb fingers and toes
and having precious few daylight hours

I’m sick of combatting glacial winds with layers,
of treacherous icy apathy,
and dreary bleak boredom

I’m sick of not being able to sit on the ground
sick of long pants, long socks, long sleeves,
and silent stagnant long nights

So, despite the fact
that I’ll pine for January
every day over 90°

Despite the fact
that when mosquitoes swarm
I’ll wish a frost would **** the little *******

and despite the fact
I’ll get just as fed up
with temperate seasons

I still want Spring
and then Summer
and then Fall

But February brings false hope
and despite the lengthening cheery sun
months still stand

between us and t-shirt weather
mild nights, grassy hills,
  and emancipation from an inclement icebox atmosphere

Languid
restless
I don’t even know anymore

I don’t have anything to say
nothing real
nothing fictional

Plagued today
a lack of passion
no inspiration to be had

stuck in vapid complacency
I haven’t chosen
not to feel

Anything at this given moment
would be salvation
from banal doldrum

I’ve slipped
fell
into pacificity
Observer at best
always just a passing wayfarer
part of the scenery

running a facade
a mask of my own image
sure I see myself in the mirror

but Who
Is
That?



Trapped
by the singular perspective
that is consciousness

I have no idea
what anyone feels
What another’s notion of me is

other than myself
and even then
I’m not so sure.

Does anyone
ever give me
a thought?

Who am I?
an Artist
a poet
a hiker
a biker
a walker at night

a friend
a son
a brother

An acquaintance
that guy
hey you

a fool
a loser
lost  

selfish
lonely
insecure

Maybe?
but who defines me
myself or others


Does it even matter
what I think
if I’m really not the judge

but then again
how will anyone see
what I am if I don’t know

Is there even
a place
for me?

Where am I going?
what am I doing?
Will I ever make a difference?

Will I ever carve a niche?
will I ever be remembered?
will anyone ever think of me?

Who will think of me?
how will they define me?
who knows?

I sure as hell don’t.

There’s too much light
deluge of photons
an affront to Night’s ambiance

Harsh sulfur streetlight glow:
trickery. illuminating
arteries of Artificial

making the Night
dull dark distant
confined to human construct

robbing Mystery
masking subtlety  
devouring nature

the Immensity
the Antiquity
the Beauty of Stars: gone

Lost
blotted out
by buzzing wasp’s nest

Denizens’ sting
to eyes & minds
inflaming consciousness

no longer can you Feel
small and lost
under the grandeur of nocturnal sky

all is set
before you
here to there

Elsewhere to home
Home?
Sleep in Darkness?

listening & thinking
‘til sleep succumbs
No, now rather

befalling Sickly
pallor of computer glow
we stare with blinders

all else fading
save the screen
before us

******* us in
trapping us
excising thoughts

keeping us
from ourselves
that is why we fill the night

Out of fear. To hide
but not from monsters
nor from ghosts goblins gremlins ghouls

not from lurking eldritch terror of yore
but from ourselves
from Feeling and Being

for fear of perceiving
tactile intuition in the air
of what lies ahead rather than seeing

for fear of walking by ourselves
just ourselves with unencumbered thoughts
and seeing through the facade
the facade of daytime ascribed meanings
the facade of of who we are
the facade of light

The facade that Darkness
is what is lacking
that light is normality

That light is beauty
light is hope
light is life

but it’s just that
a Facade
we plastered ourselves: an Illusion

But there’s truth
at Night and under stars
truth in the sensation of dusky hours

Artistry in ink
the allure of “unknown”
feeling small and lost

Under soft Milky Way
floating over dew laden grass
caressed by cool currents  

There’s Truth
& Beauty
in the Night

On Tuesday, I had
the intention
to set the precedent

of doing the
the work for Class
promptly

And for that
I had
Tomorrow

But Tomorrow
    turned  
Into..

Up at Five AM
to climb
A Mountain (Kinsman a 4000 footer)

Then back at Three
to take
A Well earned Shower

Then out at Four
to see the group of
my Best Friends

For the first time (in quite some time)
And the last time
until Summer

Then back at One
To get some
Sleep



So, even though
Tomorrow turned
to Yesterday
And I didn’t
at all
do school work

So, this Morning
I hurriedly
write this
I can’t at all
Say it wasn’t
Worth it