She left me like
Brutus left Caesar
like a shark attack.
My back was bent and
bleeding, and I was well
versed in delirium.

She had the electricity
shut off the day after
she abandoned me, and I drank
myself into a new oblivion.
There were kittens in
the wall--shadows tall and hot,
and I was well versed
in delirium.

I stole Four Locos' from
the convenience store, but
not enough to keep
the goblins at bay.
They chased me through
my nightmare--molested
me at dawn.
The elixir exorcised the monsters.
But I often misplaced it,
in the dryer or fireplace.
Meat began to rot in
the freezer, and I was
well versed in delirium.

My moon flowered brain thought
the cat tree was
a person.
I paced the floor and
talked to it; asked questions,
sought solace.
Degradation of the
mind reached critical mass.
And I landed in the
psych ward again.
The bats brought seizures,
and cheesecake, and yogurt
berry parfaits that were
to die for.
I was well versed in
delirium

The hole is deep enough for the two of us
And yet we keep on digging!
To haul each day a heavy load
Is this the life worth living?

I hear the wailing in the distance
I feel the heavy hooves beating down
The stubborn mule never listened
And the steed chased but never found

The gift of life can give or take
Like crops in a drought mid harvest
Sugar cane can grow in numbers
Or growing hunger serves to starve us

So when the wind no longer howls
We will see the trees stop flailing
And when the eyes can see the sea
We can trust the sailor sailing.

In my night
terror,
I hear the pounding
of
your wings, ripping and
tearing
at my feeble heart.
It's beating,
but
barely;
bomb blasted by your
attack.
Your love is like
a stroke;
like a bloated toad.
I'm road weary,
teary eyed, like a
sunflower.
And you scream in
the darkness like a
lamb.

I long to *** in
you.
I'm like dentures
chewed on by a stray dog;
teeth missing,
jagged like a
jack-o-lantern.

Damage control is
your best bet.
I let you way too
far in.
No turning back now.
I'm like a dumb
cow led to slaughter.

I'm miles away.
You're on a
different
island.

i'm falling again
i'm falling
into abyss
wonder hands will grab me
raise me
but then
i'd be too far gone

i'm walking a fine line
between individuality and insanity

The breakup was
the best thing that
ever happened to me.
I lost everything except
my dignity.
I escaped with my soul.
She tried to buy it with
Sushi and Thai food,
but it's not for sale.
I would rather
freeze and be free,
than die warm in her cage.
No amount of love can
fix that abysmal madness;
that car crash confusion.
Daisies withered when she
walked by.
Her heart was rotten, like
an STD, like a
fish hook to the eye.

Hook him up to the machine.
Shock his brain into
mediocrity.
Death stalks him;
he is aware.
There is too much
flash in his eyes.
His brain needs a reboot;
he needs to forget,
like a goldfish, like
a monkey in the zoo.
Hook him up to the machine.
He is too sentimental.
Salmon swim in his blood;
he has a paisley heart,
and a tie-dye soul.
He can smell colors.
Hook him up to the machine.
He has Van Gogh eyes, and
a Bukowski gut; he walks
like he's lost in a maze;
hunchback sadness,
butcher knife nerves,
Hook him up to the machine.
He believes in love,
and has too much trust.
His vivid green memory
is a curse, we need to
crash it, **** the eternal spring.
Hook him up to
the machine.

Drinking has been an exercise in
lunacy and sorrow,
like jumping off a cliff,
for tomorrow's dead dreams.
The fruit of the vine should
be sweet and sentimental,
like mamas and moonlight.
With a fistful of memories and
a soul full of pain,
I try it all again;
I chase the phantom.

Existence stretched through a detour,
two spots; unknown in direction.
Turning left when it was right before,
keep all guessing, slide past detection.

I’m not a one stop shop,
once I housed hand crafted originality.
With the increase in demand I let my guard drop,
and now both my shelves and insides are empty.
I believed in a watcher behind me,
I held onto tight to an invisible thread.
Everyone is just silently constantly reminding me,
I’m isolated and alone even in my head.

I hear the loud pop of plastic against plastic,
feeling both relief and shame simultaneously.
Side slipping and back breaking; I thought myself a gymnastic,
though incredulous was the thought of even competing.

But I was sleeping in a Chinese finger trap,
so assured that I would choose to make it a womb.
You couldn’t hear a pin drop but with the concept of a single tap,
ears would shake and ring as if it were a sonic boom.
I’ve got nothing but dirt and dust on my shoulders
I pass it off as glitter and simple magic.
I show no signs of tiring from passing back all the boulders
if I didn’t let them slide it would almost be tragic.

Pardon my complacent self involuntary involvement,
and excuse me while I perform dramatic ironies.
Preparing the conscious for the next inevitable instalment
of prepared monologues of justifications and fallacies.

And I can’t but think in this instance,
I remember the episode of The Simpsons
where Homer is outcasted for screaming “aliens”
and he drinks himself out of existence.
“Red M&M, blue M&M,
they’re all the same colour in the end.”

After writing my first limerick,
my mind went on this metrical kick.
The words I'd compile
all had the same style
and my poetry sounded quite sick.

I'd start with paper and pen
to write to my closest of kin.
I'd try to think
what to write with the ink,
but found I'd done it again.

It seems the harder I tried
to set this bad habit aside,
the more I'd conceive
with a poetic weave,
rhyming which wouldn't subside.

Many times I would complain,
this poetry form is insane -
for every rhyme
keeps the same time,
becoming ingrained on the brain.

Years I've been in this state,
with rhymes to relay and relate.
Repeating these verses
and uttering curses..
It makes me so very irate..

So I'll offer poetic advice,
don't let this writing entice..
Don't step in a trap
full of limerick crap,
just let a nice sonnet suffice.