self induced mania
greeting 3am,
hello, my old friend

lately daylight seems surreal

every static breath
revives the throb
of gaping emptiness

obvious, constant screaming
unfinished
incomplete
howling

muffled by
harmful habits
daydreams
and shallow company

crawling from distraction
to distraction
to sleep
but even in dreams
I find
only temporary relief

Lethargic
Lobotomised
Listeners
Literally
Lactate
Loathing for the
Listless
Lingering
Lowlife
Lyricist.
              How
                   do
                     you
                         like
                             the
                                 ludicrous
                                             limerick?

Mosséd trees stand in respect,
a moment of silence.
Still breathing
but stillness dwells.
In amongst the green
a catharsis of orangey-red shades.
The Japanese maple poised,
chest puffed,
arms elegant.
Sight unstirred.

Everything is absurd.
Nothing will ever make sense.
Looking for an answer, a purpose
is your only answer, and purpose.
I won't invent anything to believe in
or belive in any invention of man.
I Dont believe in anything:
rainbows
pancakes
jackets
parents
light
speed
love
god
­the sun
stars
smoke
fire
hell
kisses
music
sound
movies
death
life
re­ligion
answers
questions
nations
nationalities
race
communism
cap­italism
feudalism
nothing.
I don't believe in anything but
rain on summer days
and tectonic plates.
It doesn't make sense
but then again
everything is absurd.
I indulge
and elaborate.

Swaying drunk in a friendly kitchen,
I look
and see
a pretty
white
plastic handled
pearing knife.
I reach and grab
and cut
accidental slice
of a left palm.
Nothing
felt
a coincidence?
of drunkenness
and
shock?
or
a repeatable
pattern.
7 & 7
sits down on the
stoop
so i can test
my hypothesis.
I punch in at the edge
and feel the skin pop
like a warm water balloon
thicker
oozing like pancake syrup
nostalgia
the sharp steel
drags across
unrestrained
by the remaining flesh.
It's always easiest
to peel an orange
once you
stab
through
the
rind.
I've heard it described
as ******
or exhilarating
but I'm cold
and numb.
So I thin myself
with 7 & 7
to help it leak down
to my cigarette tip
and stain
my pretty
white
plastic
pearing knife.

I dripped down the rafters
into chaos
and frolicking fantasies roar.
Fare well to the redhead queens!
I sat back in chiseled thrones
and threw gold at the gods
and still no answer
was given for my offerings.
The night was thick on my breath,
bitter broke *** liquor stained my body.
My blood runs thin.
My trip throws me deep
where the flames lick sweat from my face.