Ticking away the time in an effort most surreal,
he holds his heart within his hands waiting for it to feel.
There he sits awaiting as time runs all but out,
his heart now broken not from pain but lack of love throughout.

My dog eared heart
Is a stray paper heart that is worn at the corners
I liked to worn you that it's been used and abused
In many different ways.
Like a monetary paper note it retains its value
But it looks ***** in its present form
It's a reflection of my being
Valued the same but used and carried in many peoples pockets
Sometimes spent, sometimes used for a higher purpose
Never worthless but paper thin and fragile
I'd cash in but I am not that shallow
I want someone to take it and invest in me
To take time to gain my interest
and spend my dividends.

I want to write without writing.
Try without trying.
Speak without speaking.
Fly without flying.

I want to smoke without smoking.
Cry without crying.
Love without loving.
Die without dying.

I want to live without living.
Lie without lying.
Hope without hoping.
Sigh without sighing.

I want to escape without escaping.
Be without being.
Leave without leaving.
See with out seeing.

Energy is all around you, and with in you. Some people need to put a name on this energy. These names have often brought about negative energy and been topic of heated debate. That is the power of people.

Well you wanna go out dancing.
I don't wanna leave my pad.
I won't loosen up this necktie 'til my head falls in my lap.
               Then you'd be lapping up my words
               that are
                     curdled,
                     soured,
                     absurd,
purchased with inflated currency
and sold off for a herd
               of sappy sentiments
          for worn-out, bought-up malcontents.
Yeah, you're believing anything these days...

And I'm far too good a liar
               selling real estate
          on toxic, poisoned ground.
Filling in all of these forms
and putting dumpster fires out.
               Standardized.
               Attracting flies...

Follow darkened circles down...

To my parlor. Find me cutting up and dealing
               out my cards
and doubling down on all the reasons
I've been feeding you.
               Repeating 'til it's my turn
               to start eating plates of crow.

Now you won't take any chances.
I'm a golem made of ash.
I won't fire up the big band. You won't come sit on my lap.
               I've been dishing out these words
               that are
                    used up
                    barren,
                    burned
far too long. The chafing dishes cooled
and all our vittles turned.
               Buffet line sentiments
          for naïve, hungry malcontents
starving to believe in anything these days.

Well you wanna go out dancing...

I'm not gonna leave my pad...

could you please
preheat the oven
to 450°F?

thanks!
now
can you please
shove me in there
and close the door tightly?

I'll probably scream
and flail
but,
ignore that

I need a fire to be lit
under my ***
since I clearly
cannot light one
by myself

Lack is not
What denied me luck
Rather luck is what I lack!

Yet I craft poems a lot
To change  my lot
God willing
One day to hit
Poetry contests' jackpot!