I often feel an irresistible urge
to shake my head, static
racing across neurons from
chemicals, long gone.
Then comes the gnashing,
grinding teeth, and the
horrible, intrusive thought,
that this will never go away.
But before the thought finishes forming,
the feeling is gone. And I look in the mirror,
and think to myself:
"What the **** have I done?"

rip off all my skin
2. stop, just stop
3. ask for help
4. never talk to anyone ever again
5. go far away and never come back
6. never eat again
7. eat ******* everything
8. lay in the snow, in a swimsuit
9. stop being so ******* dramatic
10. you should just disappear already

A red thread of shame is tightly woven into our silenced souls,
An inherited madness dripped its way down to whoever works the controls,
This nebulous state, this numb state, it's our common default setting,
Here we all are, blind to the brain trick, content in our worldwide forgetting.

Nothing like a perpetually distracted brain to box away the brilliance,
Put that box back in the cupboard, don't you dare invite **** dissonance,
And remember when the party guests arrive, silence is insulting,
Privacy is suspicious, mystery is annoying and thoughts kept to yourself are revolting.

Show us romance, show us pretty, let us always see the screen,
Give us an abundance of fake new reality, let us turn on the simulation rain,
We would like to see her and we would like to see him while pretending we're the ones having fun,
Dopamine is leading the way for us all, our ruling neurotransmitter, our kindly king hormone.

My head is filled to the brim
Packed brainstems
Maybe that’s why I take you straight to heart
Truths whispered and held in cupped hands
Like butterflies, then released
See where they land and the clarity they impart
You words are vast galaxies
Mystical, colorful imagery
Like melted crayons pouring from the fount of your mouth
Dripping into molds making wax elephants
Heavy words trumpeting sentiments
That I may never ever truly figure out
Eyes that speak paragraphs upon chapters upon volumes
Upon libraries
And I am only a syllable in the commentary
Fill the empty crevices of a heart once on fire
Long since expired
And give this charred thing new life, incendiary
Make this full mind empty every bit but you
Clear the queue
So I might feast on more than these offerings of crumbs
Minds will always be filled and filling
And full
But the the choice of what’s ingested is the rule of thumb

Wonder-filled

Summer rain, melting Arctics
and the lipids lining the nerves
in your brain. These are the metrics
of our times. Mere resolve

is not enough to take care
along the highway—you need wheels and prayer.
When you realize there’s no there there
that’s a scary day. End there.

August, the extinction is terrifying.
Quiet, too quiet. 100% humidity, not a single insect flying.
Summer morning, summer evening, sighing
the sighs of purgatory—grief without pain, death without dying.

I’ve chosen the safety of these mountains
and the beauty of their mists—such perfection
which anyone can have for the asking.
All you need to know is the names of things.

Conflict, coercion, war, strife.
Flying high in April, shot down over Germany.
Have a good day. That’s life. Fix yr brakes.
When I hit a pothole my fillings sing.

Anything’s possible, it’s impossible
to know what will happen until it’s happened.
You can’t know what you’re doing until it’s done
and even then you stare in wonder

unmoved yet moved by the stillness
a pure goodness, bone stillness, potential energy. You can practice it
in the city or the desert.
The wilderness or the mirror over your dresser.

I'm a ******, I'm the oddball
My style defiles piles of pop culture ads
While I bounce off these rubber walls
With a hamster running in my head,
Until around two a.m. he goes to bed
Typing a tapestry of insanity
Pouring all the demons from my edeitic memory
Blaming the insecurities on my pedigree
Then destroy all the evil like a heroic entity.

I keep peace without a peacekeeper
I fight reapers hissing like creepers
In a secret lair, Kronk pull the le-ver,
Slashing male stereotypes, aren't I cleaver?
You wouldn't want to try to battle my wits
You'd ball your fists, I'd spit at you, sir
And let my vernacular blast your brains
This isn't a Robert Frost work, stay in your lane.

You'd take the path less traveled,
I'd pound the ground until the earth unraveled
Leaving nothing but the gravel to grovel
Like a duck without grapes you should waddle,
I drink coffee by the hoddle,
Never stuck in stop or stall, keep it rolling,
I'm a Katamari, oddball.

The soul
Is seen beneath a face of glass
With eyes looking up
As
Beads of water from clouded skies
Dispersed across the pane.

just tell me what to do,
confess to me your love,
or leave me here,
i promise this won’t be long.
just find out what to do,
tell me what to do,
what gave you the mobility to get over me,
to overcome the distance that once broke our connection apart?
how did you do it?
tell me, or I’m afraid,
I might have to jump off a building,
Cause’ you’re stuck in my brain again,
Yeah, I’m stuck in my brain again.
havoc and incessant quarrels,
bring tears to eyes and knives through hearts.
despite the mess you made with our love,
I’d go through it again if I were to know we would create the product of our love.
you’re the one i choose,
and most importantly,
the one i can never lose,
you’re stuck in my brain again,
yeah, stuck in my brain, again.
wish i could hear your voice,
it used to soothe me when i’d reminisce,
late at night, used to seek comfort in daydreaming,
in those daydreams, you used to confess to me your love through dry humor and long phone calls,
we would recycle the same thoughts to prolong conversations,
and pivot them, when the time grew too long,
all i get nowadays are the reminders that we were far too young to comprehend the concept of love;
we are no longer in love as we once were,
and you don’t feel the same anymore,
which brings me to face what i have avoided all of these years.
i no longer feel sane anymore,
so I lay wide awake,
To get my soul away,
I look for new ways around the thought of you,
I need a great escape or I might jump off a building.
is it wrong to hope that someday love will return to us?
to the one place in the world where it falls and belongs to us.
i’m afraid that if it doesn't,
time and fate will consume us slowly,
right before you declare to me the loss of us,
have you know that you’re the one i run to mid problems and emotions,
your name drives me crazy when i hear it,
still hard wired to the thoughts that make me run to you,
and your smile, don’t even get me started,
however, i acknowledge the deep sorrow and pain you feel for cutting off the supply chain of tangible thoughts that trace through my head and the oxygen that supports the barely moving body of mine,
in an alternate world,
you’re stuck in my brain, again,
yeah, stuck in my brain again.