There's a thing in the reflection

Two beady eyes shoved deep into black
sockets, stabbing through my temple

There's a hunch in their back,
but not by choice

A collar wraps tightly around
the throat, creating deep holes for
inconsolable truths to slip out


I woke to him hanging from the
ceiling; ever constant blank expression plastered

The wire is wrapped around my body

We have never spoken a word
to one another. forever inseparable

A gentle kiss on the forehead,
and suddenly the floor seems much less cold

sides in position
self imposturing, pre sep
paration, settling scores and bounds
separation
church from state… wait

what are these

things? Words? Or mental wisps
inter
daring done to render due
to whom due, honor or otherwise reknown.

Heroic words. I've uttered some,
imagining all boys did,
singing with their dad's, to Queen,
we
are the champions
of the world, we pretend, to the end, then

we fall away… or they
fall away … the anthems in the ballparks,
oh,
say. can you see… we are the cops,
we are the redcoats and the brown shirts
and the cavalry and the real estate speculators,

slipping my grip, the idea of me, citizen-soldier,
come limping home from the edge
of baseball,
where futbol over laps ancestral lessons
in rendering unto the owner rents ……….

How old is old?
Ask a child, for old men never
learn the bounds, or
if they do, I can't say,
there seem no theys I fit just right.

I
balance _ or I lie /I\ am lifted leaning lost.
…………..

Salt, salaried man,
spending time in reading strange sayings
as if
we
know there is meaning found some times,
we think.
we mentalate, cogitate, take a tic

to stop
and think
a gain or a loss, more sense or less, inessence
or essential point

in time? See? Say what you see? Squiggle wiggle
vermicule breeeze, or
whispy vapour
rising
above or diving into a period,
a point
in time to see ifery vanish in wasery wonder iffing
whatsitmatter,
any way.

We lived past that. Now, we make sense……..

Radical is root-related, as well as
edge
related… out on the edge of known
a
self awareness wonders at my existing
outside the inside
as seen on TV
via AI guides through the explosion of knowns

I am anonymous.
There is a canyon near my home
the sign says it is the canyon with no name.
The map says it is a slot-like canyon, with no name.

Thingery thinking in terms of lines and letters letting
all we knew
blow into the winding times told of in tales too tedious
to
recall
with Howard Bloom level detail. {he is unique}
He touches me, do I not touch back? The curio knows.

How sharp the edge of a point stretched from

the mind that could see the wind whip a spark to life.

Sense when nonsense seems the fashion, the way
forms fashion fasteners around axes,
facistical twigs and vines

something says this is missed as a message,
this ax bound in sticks,
I dare, I do, I ask what was the meaning of this,
and
while we're on my dime, what's with the wings
on the Phrygian cap,

I mean,
what was the artificer's source of inspiration, like
why is liberty always a lady
wearing fashion far up the ladder of learned things,
what is the trick
that
feminine wile, legendary lure, curious art, enchanting
c'mon
one bite.

That idea, boing, stretched so tight it threatens ever
if it
breaks once, just
once

the attention span…

An encrustation sensation overwhelms me,
I'm thinking
I know
I know
I know
nothing so important that it could not wait to be said
by you, reader/writer being ready
read on

words to the wise are plenty,
these who say we know bread, they say leave the leaven.

:they said leave it in Egypt:

But who knows how?
Sour dough is sour dough, y'knows, it don't cook with no bubbles,
no,
dough rises in a backpack tied to an ***, crossing the red sea,
near that place where
National Geographic got that image of a golden chariot wheel,
reminiscent of the drowned army,
or was that
not true?

Do you believe AI knows? I mean, does your believing matter?
Ask who knows what and you learn, the memory we share
holds answers to questions you are afraid to ask.
………….

One in 8 billion, those are the current odds,
taken to scale, with man, all varieties and models,
augmented intellectuals allowed,
the measure,
of all things…
but
two's a crowd.
Social distance morphic resonance,

send me money, I am drowning in debt…
do I doubt?
Don't you, what if… somebody is going to win,
I think I can.

Ha, Wattie Piper, child hood infection exposed
too soon  to
W. Clement Stone, do it now

selah, right word right time, just before
I lose my mind

na na na na
--------------

Is the universe friendly,
does it matter if we know or if we agree?
It is,
I say.

I made my bet, I go with the goodness aspect
of knowledge,
truth itself, yes, the idea, real, the whole

enchilada.
Good is never evil. That is a true story rule,
you can bet on it,
because life isn't fair.

Think no evil, see no evil. My side won.
My weapons are not mortal, I know.
Once fooled, once ready,
I know
the trick is knowing good enough to know
the difference,
by now. We are mostly post-

original disconnection beans being removed
at birth,
with that little blue **** thingy,
nigh on universal by 1948,

super bloom, that was the year, the pollen way,
say,
hey, see this singer singing home song long song
so
far away, way way way away
hey

---- dancing dust motes seen in sun ---

I'm back in the psyche ward again.
It's my home away from home,
next to jail and the emergency room.
I sat under the bridge the other night.
It was January, and extremely cold.
I was jonesing for a drink—I knew what I had to do.
I had only been out of jail for a
couple of days for another public intox.
I narrowly avoided going back to the can today.
My nut-job girlfriend said,
"Why don't you get us some wine? " "Sure, " I said.
Shaking and sick, I walked a mile to
my favorite store that I steal ***** from.
I arrived, and had a bad feeling, but I
don't pay much attention to feelings anymore.
In and out is always the plan.
A bottle of chardonnay down the front
of the pants, and one in the coat.
I thought I had it. I was wrong.
A customer saw me and snitched me off.
I went with the manager to his office.
A cop showed up shortly afterwards.
I engaged the store-guy with talk of literature.
It turned out he was an
English major.
I wrote down the title of my book,
and slipped it to him. He put the paper
in his wallet. He told the cop that I was very cooperative.
Instead of taking me to jail,
the cop gave me a citation with a
court date on it, and let me go.
Sometimes, providence smiles on me.
On my way back to the apartment,
I was already planning the next store to hit,
I needed a drink.
The cop, from the store, pulled up along side of me,
and said,
"Your girlfriend called, she said she didn't
want you at her place anymore.
All your stuff is in front of her door."
I felt like I'd been run over by a rhino.
The cop said,
"I'll give you a lift, jump in."
When I arrived, there were two loosely
packed bags of clothes weighing around 100 pounds.
There was no way in hell that I could
have carried all that crap eight miles to Iowa City.
I grabbed a back pack, and stuffed it with a pair
of jeans, two shirts, my writing, and a copy of Don Quixote.
I went outside and waved to the cop, then headed towards town.
I finally made it back to the bridge.
I waited to get the nerve to make
my next move—steal wine.
I did it, and with no cork *****,
I opened it with a broken ink pen.
I'm not complaining, it was the needed elixir
and it went down like nectar of the gods.
I drank it quick, it was three degrees out.
Life had to change.
This was getting real old.

Here I go again
On this road called life,
I called mine a joke,
Help me I am broke,
But not money,
I don't need a twenty,
I need honey.

Here I go again
Threading this path,
Mine is comedic,
Borderline neurotic,
Marginally pathetic,
Definitely hectic.

Here I go again
On this road alone,
Thrown and blown to the unknown,
I am the unknown.

Here you go again,
On this lane,
Your laughter remain
One you couldn't contain.

Here we go again,
Life is amusing,
But never entertaining,
Life is comical,
But never logical.

Do I make sense?
Is this intense?
This life
At whose expense?

time is precious,
a resource never truly valued
until it creeps up behind
and leaves nothing but a need for more.

the bitter wind bites
as the day melts away like a snowflake
falling onto the warm surface of human skin.

who knew this would be the outcome.
it left us with questions,
it brought us closer
but tore us apart
one by one
until there was no tears left to cry.

and one by one we were made to be happy

but we are fake happy,
we are breaking on the inside
and wanting the escape that tore us apart in the first place.

My jaw has welded itself shut in an iron grip,
Teeth straining under the load as they are compressed
And ground together,
Aching joint failing to remind me to unclench.
What little sleep I have gotten has also sought to seal my mouth,
Until morning brings with it the sharp pain and popping I am now accustomed to.
Sores line my inner lip,
Pale, stinging pits reminding me how close I am teetering on the edge,
Body clinging to its composure amidst sleepless nights
And adrenaline baths.
A feeling like fire alternately surges up my sternum and over my shoulder,
The taste of stomach acid hot on my burning tongue.
I wonder how long I can keep this up
Until the shoulders , taut with paranoia and effort to keep me safe
Pull my very bones apart with aching muscles.
Perhaps I will be consumed from the inside,
Cracking open the same way my chest already feels.
What am I doing here,
Amongst the memories, the mournings, borrowed time?
I am trying desperately to save her from her certain fate
With love and worry and prayers to her God, the one I don't believe in.
I am also trying to save me, the little girl I used to be,
From the torment I know she will experience anyway,
Wishing fervently I could pull her through time and space
Into a world that isn't trying so hard to **** her for who she is,
The space she occupies unknowingly.
I'm haunted by the mouths of children, the words and hands of grown adults
Who did a thorough job of reducing her to mere mud and human filth.
That girl, young, wide-eyed, desperately lonely and confused,
Burning with self-loathing and pain no one will admit to causing,
Haunts me, climbs into bed and warms her frigid form with my body heat.
I can't save her,
The same way I can't save dying grandmothers or dead friends,
Yet my body is tormented because my mind is tormented.
I am cracking, slowly,
Pieces at a time.
But I'm not so easily bested now.
That little girl built armor and walls and weapons to guard herself,
So I down another cup of coffee,
Pour salt into the sores,
Crack my jaw,
And get back to work.
I have to save myself, too.

Scars, that I’ve been hiding all my life
With scarves
Bruises, witness of what the truth is
Red eyes, brimming pearls of lost truces
Yelling, Blaming and banners of ‘Deserved it’
Never saw the alarm signs
They were not bold enough, like me
Always told that I’m fine, when I couldn’t even breathe
Maybe it’s been hash on me lately and
I don’t wanna make you too feel low
Maybe just pull me closer and never let me go
Cause the scars are now aching
And the bruises, deep blue
The pearls are now sold for ground breaking news
The yelling has me shaken; I stand with heart that’s broken
Too many times like my body
But you’re innocent, oddly.
Scarves, that have been hiding scars for long
I put them free
Cause I again, wanna feel like me.

Pain erupts in my chest
Like sadness has just cracked my sternum
With its cold, gray hammer.
I cannot touch this hurt
With tears or bandages.
I am simply bleeding internally,
Wondering why anniversaries cut so deep,
But it's not that I nearly lost myself,
Held hands with the reaper.
It's that you preceded me death,
And I wonder why in the end it was you and not me.

sometimes I have a hard time
perceiving myself;
the person who I actually am,
I am used to be filled with negative
and draining thoughts
but who am I next to that?
some days I forget that I'm actually
me
under a surface of anxiety and thoughts
under a layer of the weird way my brain functions
maybe I find her again,
I hope to meet her soon.