my eyes are little television screens
projecting into my brain
still life images that capture my home
in all its unwavering solitude
the music curls around me
i feel the devil's blood in my veins
as a satanic elvis serenades me
with old refrains i can relate to
i lament my present foray
into social media poetry
but i'm much too intoxicated
for an emotional reponse
i choke down this rip of mad man OG
a sip of coffee mixed with E&J;
and wonder if hank bukowski
would have been a hit on facebook
had he emerged today.

Seven billion strong
and each one of us
alone in our thoughts.

r ~ 3Mar14

You tell me you're empty
And I know you want my sympathies
My acknowledgement of the problem
But all I can give you is the gawking gaze
Of a child on his first trip to the zoo
Leaving smudges on the snake tank as he tries to fathom
How something could be so alien and smooth and powerful.
You tell me you're empty
And all I can think is
That I have not a moment of my life to compare that to-
A day without suffering, without pain or danger,
Without that or joy so intense it tips right back over into treachery
I have no memory of any such day
To draw from for empathy.
I stand and stare at you
Empty you
And I know your sadness should be respected
And I know I shouldn't wonder so perversely
What it must feel like
Not to feel
But I can't help it
I feel like I'm standing on the other side of glass
Staring into the beady eyes of a boa constrictor
Wondering irresistibly
What its embrace must feel like for the mice it devours.
I know you are suffocating
But I
Am drowning
And I wonder
What empty feels like.