Realities as decomposed societies set, still lives on.
Society is the crossbred of fables and obsolesce.
Reality for the individual differs, believers in disbelief, disbelievers in disbelief.
Belief is six feet below.
Truth for believers lie in realities. Reality for the disbeliever lies in truths.
Atrocious civilisations nearing transcendental ruin, for the pillars are fractured, the bases decayed and the headstones are unbinding.

His matriarch set off in the brilliant burn
Pre-monsoon summer skies as she flies
Home to Big Blue and strawberry fields, rolling sand dunes
Studded with peaches and cream stalks full corn ears
Past the gunmetal  hulls - Motor City madness
Send that cheap crap back to China
Import ratchet dreams that obsolesce faster than a preteen’s
Boy band crush
We left our polite goodbyes on padded benches in the Sunport
Trekked the cement labyrinthine path back to the car
Sprawled myself out in the backseat
Marinating in my bipolar haze of relief and regret
Two weeks of my soft under parts presented  
Respect for the Alpha who never hacked up a rabbit
At the mere sound of my keening cries
Sate the pack tomorrow I’m off the forest floor
In all my ears back, feral, foaming at the fangs glory
Salient thought abandoned on the crest of a stressed induced migraine
And the whelps yipping for pricey coffee with caramel drizzles

She broke my bleary eyed unfocused reverie
Wrangling two carts corralled by bits of ragged twine in the parking lot
As she ferreted through her peculiar tinsel adorned collection
Scraggly plastic wreaths, sad ghosts of Christmas past
And her grizzled locks wound round a red velveteen door decoration
Muted hues against her transient mantle
I caught myself looking away…
A triad of flies buzzed her presence
The dull thrum of something important forgotten
She shuffled to a center table
Arranging dusky floral skirts and kohl layered clothing
With hands caked with cracked black grit
Fingers studded with grimey chunk costume jewelry
Dug at the lid on a generic bulk bowl of noodle soup
While baristas and capri clad patrons skirted her table
As though they were restless waves
Fleeing before the power of God across the Red sea
And me ******* spun fat from the top of an overpriced iced concoction
Without pittance in my pocket
Caught myself staring…
Waiting….
For someone else to do the Christian thing

Is that how a Freak rolls?
Tongue lolling for the opportunity
When crazy plants itself
In the high backed chair in front of you
And pops open a styro container of “stroke in a cup”
Do you flash that cash wrapped round a tract
Put a hand on her weary back and pray
Do you simply look away
Caught up in awkward indecision
Uncomfortable in your urban bubble
This is latte day at Starbee’s for God’s sake
And she never put a hand out for help
Or spoke a single word
As if a bag of Oprah’s cut leaf tea would
Change her world.
Or yours.
Pride goeth before Christmas wreaths, and shopping carts
And *** metal costume jewels

Under the cool blur of my ceiling fan I glance skyward for answers
Offer a smattering of plaintive prayers
For matriarchs
And mavens with dull velveteen bows in their hair
For my children
For release from the pain at the back of my brain
And the constricting grip of entitlement torqueing my brittle heart
God breathes in moments missed
When we simply look away…
TL Boehm
08/21/2014

It's kind of a sick twisted fate-
when someone turns out to be everything
you have found in someone else
but you also collectively hate.
It turns your mind into a constant state of confusion.
This obsolesce was never planned
and I never planned to dislike you as much as I do now.
How does one go from appreciating the very core of a person
to dissecting and disliking every part?
I'd like to think it's second nature
and the second you become who you've always been
when the mask was ripped off and I saw you
I realized I had been trapped behind a wall
of disillusionment in hopes to fix
what will always look so much better broken.
You are a mere child amongst men-
constantly desiring something so out of reach
always trying to get what you want
until it is within your reach
and you realize you don't know how to keep it
you're not very good at keeping track of time
and everything you say has to be depicted
like a novel of truth you are telling
when you use your words with such a dishonesty
that it's honestly laughable.
You have not made sense on more occasions
than you have.
Your words are your muse
your security blanket
when in reality, most of the time
they are fleeing from your lips
and they are used in the complete wrong context.
I'm glad I could help you be okay
I never asked for any help from you
so I wasn't surprised when I never got it.
Always trying to mend brokenness
so maybe I will feel whole,
when in the end I just feel like an *******.
But you are actually the *******-
and I should've trusted myself about you.
Should've reminded myself that nothing is within your reach
because your arms are carrying too much insecurity
to even try to hold someone else's hand.
But ******* you're trying-
and you have been
just not with me and I'm glad
because I found something now
so ******* special to me.
So thank you for not giving me what I truly deserved
because it showed me neither are you.
It showed me I was better than what you gave
and you said you cared but I never saw it.
Never felt these things you said you did.
I'm glad this sick twisted fate
worked out into my favor
because I can never imagine being with someone like you.
With a mind a bit too free and a demeanor
a bit too conflicted about **** near everything.
Learn to walk-
realize I did a long time ago
and I'm surprised I didn't sooner.
Maybe these steps will lead you
to where you think you need to be
Until then-
watch as I learned to dance
when you're still just crawling
one day, it will be back to me
by then I hope you'll be running.

my mind is an  a c c i d e n t

dna is disgusting.
my tasks are the  hand-me-downs of killers
the living are bandits for the lives of others_
i antiquate myself, stepping out into the dying light of moral argument.
we obsolesce against the lampshade of its horizon
nature is meant to be broken
and we are the breakers [as usual].


i am i
and you are youless.
springtime is stepping down

oh ryoko,
where did you go

novelty is a messy buisness