Stale crackers and
Quivering cigarettes
Held in a hesitant hand
And lonesome lips.
Nothing tastes more of regret
Than the spit on your chin
On your way back
From the bathroom,
Twenty minutes after your knees
Have finished holding down the floor
While the cold wrinkled faces
Of your feet turn up towards
The dull buzzing of the fan.

Your vision is blurred
By the tainted tears
That squeeze out
When the hand over your mouth
Just isn't enough to cover
the cost
Of last nights tab
And the penalty you avoided
By taking a cab back to
Your flat for a short nap
Before your six am shift.

But eleven hours later
And the ding of the elevator outside your door
Jolts you awake-
Seven missed calls mark your mistake
And there's a feeling you can't shake
That this is terribly wrong.

Turn over again
Running miles, still in bed.
You've spent too long
Marinating in your poor decisions
And night after night
You succumb to your vices.
You will make no progress
If you cannot be contrite.
You aren't
Alright.

C.e.M. 3.28.15

The summer is beginning to
Seep back into my sallow skin
As the crisp night air
Turns warm and fragrant

And the sky
Dirtied with light
Disapates back into
An eerie though
Strangely comforting displacement.

Always temporary,
Change remains scary.
But the uncharted territory
Can't always be complementary
To the days whims and desires.

Weeks may come and go
And I will remain uninspired,
But soon the summer breeze
Will come whispering again
To remind me

Of the tickle of anticipation
When ideas are all I have
And facts have yet to
Set themselves into any certain order

And I don't feel so old
And your body will block the cold
With sandy smirks
And drunken comfort
As we slosh together uncaringly
For a few nights out of the week

And maybe by and by
You'll mean something to me
Or maybe we'll just go with
"We'll see"

But either way you will come again with the summer
And again I'll see
if I can try to be happy.

3.25.15 C.e.M

walking rounds in wilson ave.
its such a sight to see
the looks that all the people give
to my dog Richaro and me

its like they have never seen
a poodle with a man
have they never been to
the show in Birmingham

perhaps it is the haircut
that grows unevenly
covering the head and tail
but none of the body

or perhaps it is the little shoes
with itty bitty bows
funny, maybe, to wear such things
without baby toes

i could be wrong, for it may
the amount of attitude
turning up a tail to strangers
not really in the mood

so many problems there may be
from bad breath to muddy paws
the nasty things left on the streets
"you know that there are laws..."

but truly the pair of us
are not such a shame to see
you have not met Richaro yet
you have met only me

You know where you are
What you are, when you are
But not really, you feel almost
           Detached

From the world
And all its people
From those closest to you
And those you have yet to meet

You read the words on the page
But not through your own eyes, no
As if you are merely a lonely
Thing floating through time and space

Not living, but breathing
Barely surviving, but existing
You walk, run, fall
But it doesn't feel like you

At all.

True to my nature I ****** up,
I gave in to my lesser desires, I gave up common sense.
I gave to the tide,
I went under.

As though in quicksand I sunk,
Thrashing,
Death throes.
I'm grasping at straws,
At snapped telephone wires,
Pulse distortion,
Just a touch away,
It's beckoning,
And oh so appealing.

What I wouldn't do for a little peace of mind.
Shocking!
Isn't it?
The attraction of interaction,
The constant presence or lack there of,
The desire, the distance...

Unsure of my footing I falter,
A newborn lamb, learning to hold it's own weight,
An adolescent, still learning.
Where did I go wrong?
How do I go right?
What option have I left?

Forever fearful,
Of what's beneath the bed,
Of what's in my head.

Are you leaving?

There's not much left to leave,
Running out of patience,
Running,
Nowhere to go,
Can't stop,
Can't stand,
Falling...

You are a sore thumb,
Pressed hard against my eye,
You blind me,
Unique in your affect,
Your image,
Branding,
Thoughts of you linger,
Ink stained fingers brush my eyelids,
And ink stains them still,
I see you in my sleep...

There aren't enough crystals in the world to cleanse this mind,
Nor enough bandages to keep the skin on these knuckles,
There isn't enough sugar to hide the bitter taste in this mouth,
There isn't enough,
This life is lacking...

Now that you've gone,
There's one shadow
In my morning sun;
New moons hide me
When evenings come;
There's none to compare
To starlight spun.
And I did compare,
Before you'd gone.

He follows a win, shoddy as tin,
What a week, one sorry victory
And tales to be strewn, too thin
His climbing hill, a pyrrhic story.

Why do people drown, having swum best race as *****?