Seven billion poets and rising. Fourteen billion ears and no one can hear.

If my words go unread and my voice goes unheard, did I ever exist.

I don't know if a bear did but I did when I was camping.

If we call the start a big bang when it goes will it be the little whimper or the even bigger bang?

Is it true that ****** shoes are nailed on?

I used to be on hormone therapy.... but she put up her prices.

before the world burned
cities vanished
water rose
and the air became too thick to breathe
it was a nice place
but to most  
not nice enough to fight for

she silenced her phone
trashed the social media
cast off weary fake friends
ceased to lay eyes on junk
or accept empty invitations

she was like a tree or a flower
rudely dug up and replanted
in a grotesque garden

there was one way to wholeness
one unrushed road to finding self
and it wasn’t out there
or hiding somewhere

it was a gentle determined stroll
the deep measured cleanse
feeling the slow but sure growth
down to the roots of her tingly toes
until she and the earth around her lightly sighed

Cystic
Nothing but a cyst
Sloughing skin
Kept within

Cancer
Nothing but cancer
Sloughing skin
End/Begin

Dirt pop
Nothing but a dream
Simple wish,
Spinning disc

Meat pop
Nothing but a dream
Nothing good
Nothing grand

**** me. Rend me.
Pull my soul
Out of my ***

Hold me. Taste me.
Rub my flesh
Dance into death

The apartment lies just on the hill.
Beyond the defunct track, beside
The working track. Tall, pale grass

Pressed under trash. Food bags.
Food bags and drink cups.
Cigarettes, butts, and packs

Watch as the refuse stretches
Just as it is
Sharing light of morning sun

Cystic.
Cancerous.
Refuse.
Detritus.

Watch as the refuse stretches
Just as it is
Paper and/or plastic

Beautiful, isn't it.

Such beauty,
But empty...
Such pity,
Little missy.

A fake diamond.
So pretty...
So shiny!
But all synthetic...

Fire turns cold, Forests lose their magic, mirrors break. Poets lose their words, And I lose you. We create stories without knowledge of what's about to come. We lie when we speak the truth. Eyes shining, Heads turning, Pens writing. Books whispering, Flowers shining in moonlight. Ink covers my skin, Brushes in a lake. A wall of reasons to die, to live and to keep me away from you. When I want to write, My story is yours. We'll never get there. Secrets spilled over long forgotten days. Mind turns cold, eyes turn gold. Want to be the one to speak her name as mine. Fell into my own lies, Confusion is me. Why do i keep when i want to lose this. Nothing breaks like you. I'm stuck. You can see, what if we both don't want this reality. Why me?

Perpetual occupation. Thoughts o’Disgust.

A path into oblivion. Who can we trust?

5% of the world population.

20%, prison population.

More thoughts. More of disgust. Despair. Hope? Less.

And less! Each day I think I forget. Its there.

Orange TV show personality.

As the leader of the free world?! What kind

of world is that? What am I supposed t’think?

Oh right. Because he’s free to tweet trash, garbage,

putridness, calling everyone out other than himself,

calling people dogs? That’s freedom. No thank you.

In the meantime, go fix your ******* self!

Before you try to fix everyone else.