Baffled I said...hmm
Well not organized, persay
I'm spiritual
Ya know I take desert walks in
Sandals sometimes

I wonder,
If the sunrise ever looks down on our inhabitants,
And holds it's breathe as the beauty of life overwhelms even that of the sky

I am obsessed with my own mortality
or maybe the fact that I believe I am immortal
how could I die?
how could any thought of mine be final?
it can't just end
I wake up everyday
eyes peeled wide
and comfortably rise from where I lay

sure others pass
but they are not me
they don't walk in my shoes
they don't see what I see
they aren't special
and I am because well...
because I believe I am
I just know I can tell

but maybe there's truth to what they say
the groundwork which they lay
treasure life every second
because it could end any day
it's sobering
to think you're nothing but a ticking timer
that someday it will eventually end
that whatever you have won't last forever

..And I probably shouldn't
have used my real name

But that's the fool inside of me

I walk home at three in the morning
In a white fedora, black suit, and winged tipped shoes with a pointed toe

Accompanied by a lone trumpet
Shrieking a wailing lonesome tune
As I walk slyly, cigarette in hand
In a strange off beat step
Through dark alleys, side streets,
And ***** parks

I give a *** a fifty dollar bill

And wait,
Stop there!
A scumbag is assaulting a woman
And I of course save the day



Suddenly
I come to, crawling to my toilet
A horrifying sting of mace

I dreadfully check my messages

And in ***** covered disgrace..
I despise,

My big dumb tequila poisoned face

Toddler tears, infant despair.
The grown-ups adopt their
Panic, and lose control
Rendering their children
Orphant in the darkness that
Absent adult calmness
Creates.

Short beds, cribs, toys
Scattered around;
Superman bedding and
Uncemented concrete in
Piles where peace once
Played with the
Peaceful.

Take these demolished dreams
And newborn nightmares.
Breathe life back into each
Bombed home.
Rebuild young
Hearts with their
Rubble.

Gather yourself
Ill prepare some lines of *******

Oh God your still reading...


I arrive home from work
And immediately grab my bottle of wine
Sweet red wine
Too sweet
But tonight it will do just fine

I drop to the couch while guzzling
That cheap sweet red wine
It drips like maple syrup
And sit atop my stomach
As if in the Black Sea

I draw a substantial drag
From my hydrocombustion device
And wonder why I care?
I'll find another **** job

I'll have to play a few nights out at the bar

All that aside
The worst of it is that sweet red wine
For what I'd do for something a little sour

I'm 22 years old
I do the work
Of children and beggers

Opportunity is a time share
For those buying or already bought in
Turn kings
From
Tenants and insurance agents

American dream a lie
Though plenty of room
for poor poets
In ratty apartments
On the East Side

And how it kills me
You live in the city
And have no time
To free me from my wounded
Masculinity

Wish I boarded the 6am train
And lived in a tower

Maybe I could afford something a little
More sour

**, everyone that thirsteth
And hath the price to give,
Come to the stolen waters,
Drink and your soul shall live.

Come to the stolen waters,
And leap the guarded pale,
And pull the flower in season
Before desire shall fail.

It shall not last for ever,
No more than earth and skies;
But he that drinks in season
Shall live before he dies.

June suns, you cannot store them
To warm the winter's cold,
The lad that hopes for heaven
Shall fill his mouth with mold.