I think our world is inherently good.
But I acknowledge, somewhere between stardust and god, that things got a little messed up.
And I believe in angels both winged and upright
Ya see, some walk with two feet while others take flight.
Simultaneously, they are in this beautiful mess.
I call it a scarring fight

There's something effortless about lips stained with wine.
   Like a guilt-free, hall pass to unfiltered minds. My bartender poors liquid confidence into my challace of courage. It  soon shuts up my "almost" verbage. I think he's magic, he looks concerned at my face, but really I'm just staring in awe of the grace. It's nice to finally know how it feels to not hesitate.
  
There's something spiritual about long, interstate drives. The thinking that occurs is the lyrics on his mind. Sometimes I cry, often I scream, other times I laugh to feel, just for once, a little lightly. I drum on the wheel and hum with the bass. I know I've felt God, once or twice, on that **** interstate.

I hardly finish poems. I guess I like the idea of things lasting forever. This is why I can't burn bridges, so I leave it all to the weather. It's unrealistic, see this I am aware, but I've always liked pretending, for it keeps me less bare.

I’m the Romeo
You’re Juliet
Caging my Ragin’ heart
For two arrests
forcing me to choose
between poison and cigarettes
A tsunami of aquaphobiacs
Singing tides of lullabies
to insomniacs
while the bitter ******* drown in the river
Welcome to the clan of un-forgivers
I see junkies sitting in their stoops
racing with the clouds
and ole man Johnny riding his two wheel pick up
to make minimum wage working for privileged clowns
-we call them millennials-
Irony almost as similar
As a tsunami made up of aquaphobiacs
Or the tides singing lullabies to the insomniacs
before they drown in the river
Welcome to the clan of un-forgivers
Pouring rain
my umbrella broke
lightning strikes
I have metal bones  
Writing lines
my ink explodes
Sometimes we’re left to shiver
When we meet the clan of un-forgivers.

Your nature, overwhelming.
With the exception of your “Big Easy” vibes?
For now, let’s accredit it to your welcoming charm.
The one that told me it was normal to have a sleepless night.
You turn saxophones into soft lullabies
And celebrate a selective variety of anything.
You have alcoholic tendencies.
And privacy really is an illusion with you.
You do not have strangers.
Family is what makes sense.
You’re beautiful.
Unique.
Eccentric.
And blue.
You’re comfort.
Fun.
Inappropriate.
Sin.
You’re love.
Beautiful.


You are my sweet New Orleans.

Sandbags
weigh down the young lovers
they bloom every summer
like the magnolias

My compass
and your North Star
undiscovered
we plant our seeds
in the rich soil of kindness
in hopes it blooms for others
like the magnolias

The summer heat
only bearable
when you’re the mosquito
biting my veins
so they pump blood rapidly
when our green eyes meet
Every summer
my love blooms for you
like the magnolias

I would call this a virus,
Definitely something you don’t describe as alright..it’s
Infectious, unnecessarily a mess…it’s
That cold and rainy day you lock yourself out of the car
While the umbrella is locked in the house

You can no longer fathom being in this limbo land between those two shelters
Limbo: the type of nothingness that exists when there is no rooftop made of mom’s forehead kisses
You can’t allow the world to let you feel that type of cold again…so dismiss this
Because this world can make you feel whole again.
But I would still call this a virus

Because everyone contracts it at some point in their lifetime
But there are only a few who are purely mute about carrying it
Not seemingly aware of it
They infect multiple people, definitively uncaring for them
This virus is a fickle *****

Statistically there’s a 98.732% chance that it can make you feel like ****.
Oh wait
I didn’t admit to this
It’s the virus

It’s been attaching, penetrating and assembling in my brain
Preparing me to fit into this perfectly squared peg game of mundane *******
I am a ******* carrier of this mischief


I’m the ******* host
I am this virus
And I let the virus parasitically invade, like spreading almond butter on my toast
It seeps in the pores and spores of all living things
Hi, nice to meet you, I call myself a virus
****, wait sorry that wasn’t me  
Personifying the virus from it-to he-to him- ya see- he
He’s now attacking my bloodstream
Contacting old friends like a telephone ringing
He’s contracting old wounds, from old dooms, I used to cry about in my old room
-Like the memory of calling mom from my locked room when she was four states away, crying because I felt shame and blame, because Dad told me they only fight about me…I’m the reason for their divorce…but I’m only ******* 8-

Recalling that memory, now older, I know it wasn’t all it seemed to be
There’s an awareness you acquire when you feel close to our maker
The virus tries to push me in the other direction
But now, I can confidently say, my cuts don’t bleed on anything but paper 

Let’s still call him a virus (if you’d like)
And now I really don’t mind it
Because it is in all of us
It is in all of you

It CAN punch, bleed, hit, yell, keeping you sickly ill til your pride is crushed inside calling for help
Embrace and be aware of the fact that it is in you

With this virus
You must understand that being a carrier of this thing gives you 98.732% chance of making others feel like ****
But….
You better ******* choose to be
The 1.268% chance of the virus that won’t
Because the choice is yours

It’s going outside on a sunny day or staying in to feel the sluggish pain
Because sadness is sometimes comforting
Don’t do it anymore

We numb ourselves into perpetual delirium
With routine, fear, and small-minded bigotry
We allow ourselves to come accustom to the lack of exhilarating
We binge watch and binge drink ourselves into binge eating because
Life’s too boring without binge seeing through that dark tunnel

We have a ******* virus
It’s called perpetual delirium…
Some call it a euphoric glee
Only because that definition allows you to embrace your routine
Not hate the routine
See the difference between perception and reality?
And your next store neighbor tommy says its okay to cry yourself to sleep because he does it willingly
And what that means is that there is too much  
Comfort in numbers
Fact: unhappiness is less scary when everyone is feeling it
Fact: that is some unnecessary, humanistic behavior *******
Because we’re too weak to blame ourselves for creating it.
This unhappiness, this virus.
Are we fooling ourselves? We’re ******* psychotic
When will we wake up from this infectious disease?
You have the ability to wake up from this infectious disease
You’re the 1.268% of euphoric glee
I see it in your sparkling eyes

Wake yourself up from your perpetual delirium
Because you are the anecdote that cures any lack of equilibrium
In our universe.
I call it 1.268%-vaccination
1.268% of no medication.

People are looking
You are all looking at me
And I’m staring at you
Hoping
You gain something from this interaction
I assume you are happier than you lead yourself to believe-
So let yourselves believe and see those capabilities
Because
I, too, am fragile, hostile, accomplished, and mad
We’re inappropriate, seductive, obnoxious, and sad
You’ve got a heart of gold that weighs 1.268 ounces
And it’s the size of your iron fist
You are people
I am people
We are people
Let’s get out of this perpetual delirium
Because it’s a virus, and once you get it…the infection won’t miss.