The headlines
and the words
inside…

they ring
inside
me.

“You are great,”
they said
once.

“You were great,”
he said
once.

A pat on
my back
ends

everything.

A pat on
my back
ends

ten years work.
Now it
starts.

It starts again
and I
care?

No I want
to go
back.

“You are great,”
rings again.


Great.

Sitting in the waiting room
I see the people kneel.
From their knees they pray
for sins they have concealed.
Their brothers and sisters,
and mothers and fathers,
and daughters and sons,
grandsons and grandaughters,
grandparents too
and they look with their
puppy dog eyes
right at you.

Sitting in the waiting room
I see the people squeam
when bad news bursts from
doctors mouths. “This is only
a dream,” they say,
Vocalizing how their hearts
have burst and will
keep
sinking
and
sinking
and
sinking
until
the
day
they
die.

Sitting in the waiting room
I realize that I do not care.
For the dozens of people
in here, or the patients in there.
For the brothers and sisters,
and mothers and fathers,
and daughters and sons,
grandsons and grandaughters,
grandparents either.
I can’t help but be here,
only for you.
Only
for
you
and
me.

Nothing can be heard but
a high pitched
squealing
and a screaming
brain.
Hunger strikes and
the acids fists jab
over and over.
It is freezing here
but you can feel fire
everywhere.
Double check your
stomach once in a
while to make
sure you are
breathing.
No one can hear it;
not even you.
It is almost like
you
aren’t
there.

A blanket of exuberance
has been unexpectedly
ripped out
of my eye sockets

Through the initial bleeding
only blurs are visualized,
but time moves
and I can see

Everything around is ugly
and dark and smelly.
Bullshitters cannot even
bother to whisper-

so I hear their
inflated words and gossip
and lies. They look
okay-

but it’s not that.
They are disgusting
and ugly
and evil.

Though direct confrontation
between them and I
never occurs
their talons scar my presence.

They throw a different
blanket into me, covering
my perceptions and
numbing me

They bring me down
until I can feel
the worms under my skin-
until I’m just as ugly.

One of the first days of spring

contains snowflakes

darting downward

leaving streaks

through the charcoal sky

much like fireworks

on that fourth of july

I spent perched on

a strangers vehicle

with strangers by my side

with companion on my mind



and as they fall

I almost cry but stop-

The momentum of tears

can be altered

but those white streaks

get going and just

cant stop going

and I cannot go

like that-

I smile instead

I let these streaks

live inside my head

since everything deserves

to be remembered