All I could feel was red,
from the trees
that had roared
like flaming manticores,
                                                     ­ to the sky
                                     who had bled
                                                      its final dawn..


The veins in my head cut sharp corners
through my temples,
trying to break free from the prison
of my mind.
Steam emits itself
from my ears.
The amber tea was ready.
Lava erupted
from my face
and through my head.
I felt it ooze
                                    through my eyes
                    through my ears
                   Even through the corners of my mouth.


My demons stayed dormant
no longer.
My fist shook holding them,
my mouth relentlessly
sewn shut..
I bottled them like genies
and stored them
in a cellar.
                                                         Hot-blooded merlot
              and Foam-at-the-mouth pinot.

A lot of people in life will say
You owe them everything
You have because they helped
You get to where
You are.
Those are the kind of people
that have never been put in check.

So always make it clear,
Never get it twisted:
Help should always be charitable.
Help comes from the heart
of a humanitarian
and not that of a businessman.
Help is Help,
not a bartering tool.

He was asking for something,
I took out an earbud to hear what.
He was born ten years after me
But looked ten years older.
He told me I'd never been in jail,
Never been homeless.
He asked if I knew
How he knew.
I said, "Good guesses."
He told me I looked different from other people,
Said there was no fear in my eyes.
He was proud of knowing so much about me.
But there was more he did not know,
Such as what makes me different
And why there is no fear in my eyes.

the house across the street
has been empty
for years
because the landlord can’t afford
to tear it down
or build a new one
and it won’t pass inspection

one lamp stays on
all day
all night
to deter the copper thieves
or any other broken soul
seeking shelter
from the streets

a child runs across the splintered floor
his feet black as tar
stinking of mildew and *****
a mother sinks into her soiled chair
but she tries

a trust-fund recipient rides his jet-ski
his oiled body
tanned and toned
a father, gleaming, takes a photo
and he flaunts

everyone has their own place in the world
in a trailer park
in a tent
in a split-level home
in a shelter
in a palace

but never on the pavement
beaten down
like a poorly-trained dog
blamed for the errors
of its master