I come here to distract myself
To get caught in the labyrinthine hollows
So I won't have to question myself:
When will you return? And why you left.

Every morning I go underneath the Earth
I leave the trees behind to walk upon concrete
A utopia of green and blue
For a dystopia of gray and black
Trying to maximize my worth
A weekly void to fill
Means to survive
Off of hands I do not want touching me
They have the tightest grip around my throat
More is not enough
Everything I have I turn over
To breathe air that they poison
Drinking the water they have polluted
I scream and I shake and I cry
How can they do this?
Why is everyone okay with this?
Do we have no say?

Blind power
I look around me
You are all staring at a small screen
A device they have handed you
You even paid them for it
And now it distracts you
From the poison they feed you
A revolution! Please, I beg
Around me blank stares
She wore it best, he's dating that *****
Wake up I plead
There is no power left of the people
Willing wrists
To be cuffed

I put on my glasses to
refocus my vision,
but I realize it is my distracted mind
that hinders me,
work documents transposed with your face,
my mouth still filled with your taste,
your body still bruised into me and
your skin still stuck to my fingernails;
my body aches for your touch,
my ears yearn for the feeling of your teeth,
my mouth hungry for your lips;
my eyes stare blankly at my computer monitors as
my brain remains transfixed on the way
we intertwine and
how you make my limbs shake;

I'm not sure my boss will understand
that 8 hours a day has gone by,
and all I have managed to accomplish is
the perpetual fantasizing of the way you make me sweat,
the way you take away my breath,
how you disassemble me.

Each day there is the morning walk
to gather the morning news in print

An amble back to a rocking chair
comfort for consuming coffee
and attempts to ingest current events

Soon the coffee is gone
followed by another cup
News columns are skimmed
like a dragon-fly skits across
the still of an evening pond

Skittish has become a life-style
concentration a foreign word
completion evasive
By nighttime there is
an abundance of projects,
goals, desires left to await
revisitation - revisitation never happens
as  new distractions fulfill
the daily routine
of living in the moment

Don't go running again
Will you stay?
every moment
twinkles and dies
Unhappily
without you

I am just like a comet
Flying, soaring, crashing down
Not caring about my direction
The burning fire in the back is my crown
I'm a distraction
Some say disaster
I say faster
I say free
I say
I am a comet
And if you're lucky you'll be one of the stars in my path
Before I crash, burn, die.