Delirious foaming sips
Fidgeting for a cigarette
I look like a raging manic
Time to whistle the time away
With strategies of how I could have spent It better
( My time I mean)
Courting disaster
A youth breathing in angst
Working out the senseless semester
Of continuous mistakes
Sinking sailboat within the space of
Sea in the back of my mind
The bubbles pop like acid rain
And I've nothing tangible to soak
Up the stain
I've perpetrated my desires into
A crisp letter that I've labelled
With a sticker of a lark
Spun out on stress
Reliving the sickness
A gush of cough suppressed in
My chest
Vladimir Nabokov's "******"
Explains it the best
Contemplative in public places
With my thoughts hung like
Guitar basses
Riffs in my skull that whisper
How this phase is contagious
And I'm still the only one left of my
Peers with sweaty palms
And a sore throat
Dancing
High to a symphony of lyres
As I suddenly hit a sour note
This vast mountain road
Sliding back and forth on
Riding to a sense of home I've
Long ago forgotten
Is this tingle normal?
Is my preservation of self
Illegal?
Like that girl Lucy with
Cartier in the sky?
The leaves withered up long ago
Like dry grapes and I can't wait
Much longer in this combustible
Longing for
Someone's lies to shelter
In my soft direction
No use speaking about my
Indiscretions
Because no one ever listens till
I utter "I told you so"
I pour karma, dharma and nirvana
Into a tea cup
Finish the potion up
And start to loosen my joints
Poking along my skin in oddly
Sewn points
Walking through the doorway
From one world to another
To the waking screaming world
From a heavily dosed slumber
Seasons came and passed
Grains of sand caress the insides
Of an hourglass
Waiting for forever it seems
For some stranger I catch glimpses
Of in my dreams
Courses through my veins
As novocaine
After a bright vision solidified
In numb numbers as they said it would be
My blanket no longer fits me
As my feet stick out contorted
And my bleek sensation of safety
Seems to have become distorted
A calender left blank
I sit in a shackled ruin
I'm running on the brink
And no longer doing things
I thought knew me
Withdrawing from stings
Of the images in my fantasies