my arms are static
my legs are rocky air
my torso dips into
the skyward of mattress

I brought yesterday in my hands to set out in the sun
it didn’t take long to burn right up
my eyes trail the flecking ash in the air

there’s nothing i wish to hide

yet i sit like one car
parking lot tar matches the sky
at 3 am

is the static channel on the tv
still there when you turn off the screen

i think i see it when i close my eyes

I poked a bear,
Because he was sleeping in a tar pit.
The bear woke and cried and yelled,
"Why would you dare wake my slumber!"
I responded to the bear,
"For you were sinking in a pit of dark."
And the bear cried some more,
Then dragged himself from his sticky smelly bed,
Just so he could throw tar at my home.
Then he walked right backed, kicked rocks at me,
And laid back in his pit again.

ripples darted parallel
wading the stream, as she did
and like a revelation
you dawned on me
you said
"my eyes are open, i know. i just can't see."
*** ran from your sockets
"as far as i can opine, you see just fine"
and she coughed maroon tar
crumbling back to the riverbed

things are going to be grey
breathing tar inside
created nights without a sunrise

innocence breeds hopelessness in this world  
don't cry your pains in order to foster their intensity

dark things spoken will play around the mind
like children they scream and curdle throughout the night
chilling sensations wrap around while they mutate

greedy lungs withhold oxygen
their offspring drain the logic from reality

last breaths taken care for the innocent evils that live within
we don't lie for ourselves
when we begin to give life to those living inside our head
it's nothing but negative metamorphisis

the first days of spring are upon us
and the rebirth is apparent in things all around us
from the leaves slowly growing back
to the grass, in need of mowing from growing fast
squirrels nibbling on juniper berries
the scent in air, sappy tar carried
with pollen intermixed
your allergies amiss
though still fortunate for the spring

i like how the clouds come down, pick up my spit, then leave. are they hiring? every time i fail, i draw a chicken with a mini mindflayer crawling under its naked skin. some day they might look convincing enough to be seized by the authorities. a kid got the best of me when i was five trading cards for the real deal. don’t stop smelling the cheese, i said to the maze rat.

i like how the competition keeps me on my toes. are they tiring? every time i fail, i pick a name from a hat and mentally execute all those people. some day they might be convinced to drop dead. a bird got the best of me when the birch called us the real deal. the walls aren’t closing in, i said to the maze rat.

i like how my rorshach lungs are little Kara Walker demons in dresses silhouetted when they turn the x-rays upside down. am i expiring? every time i fail, i inhale, bring it in, until i feel wing-clipped and start coughing tar snot. hive mind got the best of me, the rules of engaging reality come with a coronary deal. the little beats are meaning something, i said to the maze rat.

i like how i have two temples, and each one gets a special drill bit from my spirit. am i unwiring? every time i fail, there’s a countdown that starts and drops to absolutely nothing then leaves. knowing got the best of me, a cinematic coronation for the mediocre is the reel deal. they never stop watching, i said to the maze rat.

i like how the am-i questions get the best of me in a real deal, i said to the maze rat