sad and destroyed
like a mechanical slug..
every dither and second
thought rushing through
my brain, seared with a
touch of envy.. seared
with a touch of evil,
selfish, genome
structured sunglasses
magnificently glared in
the sun.. not enough to
see here, move on. not
enough to see here, move.
not enough to see here
comes the river splat
dotted row along the
vertical length of my
varicose *face

given the ephemeral nature
of each and every momentous,
classics dribble inward and a soul
-search begins. you are my original
source. you are where I come from.
and like the sense of nothingness
behind my eyes, I watch and live via
chance afforded by you.  you'lltide
music contains a reminder of the holiest
birth.. and it's not the birth of a fellow
named Christ, but the birth of a Christ
-like and likeliness within each of us.
Every birth is the birth of Christ, and
you have afforded me a chance in the
Kingdom of Heaven.. misty-eyed 'get
groceries' and the fuzzy friend I once
called Furry before I knew fury
before I knew hurrying as an adultish
sorta blob that smears the sidewalks on
a never-ending rant to work now I'm
gonna change the world and it's you
I have to thank.

*(I love you, mom)

eternally up-to-bat for peace, the
world is art, you are art, and art
is therapy.. so by its very nature,
reality is therapy for the eternally
lost-and-found (in the single instant
foreverandalways). past an angry veil
is hurt.. past a hurt veil is sadness.. past
a sad veil is ego.. and past the ego veil is
an ecstasy that routes into the happiest
insanity one could imagine doing loops
and trying to catch its own tail.. nothing
to be ashamed of when yer having fun
and it ain't some serious issue that the
tail ain't been captured.

taking a sip of another belief gives
one too many thoughts to meditate
on. we are all as found as the rooted
tree.

slumbering cream-cheese on the tip of
an unhungried tongue... in past lives,
we met and you called me crazy. for
once, we are on the same level and
neither of us are not untethered in
the nether of whenever. kindred
souls know how to laughalot,
whereas unkindred soulzzz
bite each other with
elongated continuities
of 'Zed.'

we are perhaps both of these
at different times, but there
is never a lack of love tho
a lack of passion might
have done us well as
well as done us
harm all
depending on how
bent-outta-shape we'd
cared to be. there is
nothing inside of me
that says winter more
than holding yer hand
down the length of the
pole-line while you wore
flats and freezed and
I was too afraid to talk
very loud becuz a small-
town meant solitude and
I couldn't stand solitude
as I wasn't a solid, but a
gas and a liquid too afraid
to become the temporary
icy toothache of a transient
season.

I will love you forever,
but don't tell yerself that.

there's a dead guy in the body,
but he's only fast asleep.