Moved on to a better place
Found peace in the fallows
That dug knee deep in shadow
Living in darkness has become a crime
But I was so used to doing time
Caged liberty is no man’s dream
My dream is to die and pass on to a different time.

Huff, puff, smooth bravado,
This instrument that I play,
Whisks me away into smokey,
Desolate lounges,
Filled with women in black and red dresses,
Who would otherwise look away,
If not for my silky, suave vibrato.

Ooh, how I can carry a tune,
My fingers dance on the keys,
Like raindrops on a windowsill,
The neon lights at the door,
Buzzing outside in the cold.

The only thing warming up,
This cold little soul,
Is a finger of rye,
Adjacent to the ashtray,
That holds my neglected cigarette.

She watches, She listens,
My face turns purple,
As I pour my heart out on stage,
Out in the open in this vacant place,
With only the few of us around.

The modern poem,
Is a minute, edgy,
Motivating, philosophical phrase,
About how you should change,
Your belief system,
On love,
In the format of a poem.

Have we all become mere automata
guided by the ring of pings and notifs?
The spray of lather from a sea of data
carrying with it wrung celebrity whiffs
have stung us with a certain aphasia...

The written thought was a lifetime ago
long abandoned by the times and all--
where once there was soundness to follow
nonsense amassed like a rising cymbal
whose crash sent reason to the gallows.

The news of the day presents a delectable entree
of a hodgepodge of this, that, and nothing much.
Wherefore we find our tongues compelled to say
something about the aftertaste or to prejudge
as if we were connoisseurs--it must've hid faraway.

Are we perhaps amusing ourselves to death?
I am by no means a Luddite to such a degree,
but I believe we have bombarded and blessed
ourselves a little too much to see...
only time will tell us reason's final breath.

A Liebestraum and two Arabesques
stood there holding me
between the ears
one mundane evening…

The indoor storm who knew could deject
one so boldly
cleaned its final tears
and left me be…

A new wave calm eschewed ‘til present
flooded in me
serene and aptly dear
calmness…

For a moment I felt a sense of clarity that had neglected me for ages.
My sullen blues and anxious reds faded to black,
and all manner of emotion had been evicted from my mind.
I could think about things in straight lines and deep focus
for an entire ******* moment.

Then Spotify had to ruin the moment
with an indie rock montage in my queue.
I cried.

Is substance abuse that grim:
the instant I use you lights dim
like they want my muse to trim
her figure in darkness--

Blow the candles out with a kiss:
show a dancehall how to fill a floor with
slow hands-and-all antics
while my mind sinks in you--

Take me deep within nirvana:
make me sleep in a hug sauna
maybe I'd keep in mind on a
frigid Friday night--

So bare with me if I overdose:
Be there lines that blow over my nose,
I care not if they slide me into comatose...

The high that is you,
an ingenue but of substance,
a drug to pursue...
**** me with an overdose.

fate ***** with a lot of possibilities
but if you choose one to beset yourself with--
a certain mirage sizzling over the horizon--
might the fixation of that end drive yourself towards it?

So I say liberate herself from one down the line:
fate ought to flirt with the tread's-worth of lineages
growing within its forest of prospects.
Decide where to take her and meddle her acquaintances
rather than choosing one to wed your kismet.

Did you notice the crisis going on outside,
It’s terrible really they’re trying to hide
Atrocities behind a wall of big lies
The badness of this is incredibly sized.

So get out and help, you useless ****,
Shout and whisper you absolute schmuck,
March and stamp and tiptoe around red tape,
Call it ****** harassment, but I wouldn’t call it ****,
Donate and berate but most of all-

**** THE GOVERNMENT,

(Tenderly, like a lover, to not upset the way of things of course.)

Why aren’t you looking for missing kids
Why aren’t you crying at the dead body
Why aren’t you saying what Russia forbids
Why aren’t you crying at the dead body
Why aren’t you aching from every pore
Why aren’t you crying at the dead body
Why aren’t you saving all of the ******
Why aren’t you crying at the dead bodies
Why aren’t you giving your money to us?
Why, aren’t you someone the people can trust?

Did you notice the crisis going on within,
It’s terrible really, a huge massive din
Is crashing and smashing alone in your head
You can’t ever stop, unless you are dead.

Oh wait, you posted a brightly coloured infographic on your instagram story?
You’re good, never mind.

Have you ever seen a smile
that made you turn away with glee
have you ever felt a face so close
eyes contacting
like a particle collision.
This will end in a heavy mess, and yet -
a portrait with such warmth.
radiating in a such a way star beams envy it's smirk.
and supernovae would **** for the smile.
when you look at me I know
I'm here
I'm real
I'm alive
These thoughts bring tiny Heat deaths to my chest
expanding forever
I might never exhale, if only to draw in the moment
and die with it inside me.
but, I won't
superfluous words merely orbit my skull
with a stronger gravity
pulling them further from you
tearing chucks of me elsewhere
until eventually your warm glow, is merely
a scintillation