I am constantly rewriting lines
I am always retracing my steps
I am stuck reworking my code
I am lost in reconfiguration

A skipping records plays
(plays, plays, p-p-plays)
and I am caught in-between
here and there and where I want to be

Vultures sitting on the fence while I work ..Is something dead or should I be concerned ? Are the ******* waiting on me to croak or is this a routine stop for the committee , they've zero pity for man or beast , shriek as they selfishly eat , lay around all day amongst the trees , dine on dung and all manner of vile concoctions , circle the Noon Sun for their rotted reward ..
Politicians setting on their butts while I work .. Do you understand my plight ? Are you able to afford true concern ? Your in my face like you'd love to help but your only after a photo op ! Lay around the capital like nobility , creating laws that stifle men like me , 'yak' in front of the camera with crocodile tears , getting zero done year after year !

I find myself finding it harder to sleep at night
I can't help thinking maybe it's the light
I turn it off
and my mind creates images you can only see in the dark
I turn it back on
and my thoughts go on and on
I toss and turn
and close my eyes
I can hear the clock ticking as time flies
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling
please let me sleep, I am more than willing
For a while I can feel myself drifting away
Hello sleep, I'm on my way
But the voices
The lights
They won't let me sleep
Playing in my mind like an eager child
I'm ragged
Weary
Drowing in my own thoughts
I close my eyes and try again
I can feel daytime crawling on my window
I need more time, I wish I could borrow

Most of it happens
under the hex of
the small hours
between these brittle walls
in the chaotic silence of
daybreak
while the neighbors rush off
to work

Not a sound
but the hum of
a ceiling fan
toiling the extent of
my thoughts
til it's actually time to
“wake up"

The gentle crunch of
Kitty's breakfast
rings with such soothing
abrasiveness
even the crickets can't compare
Nothing can match that
care-free lifestyle I so long for

Long for...
How long exactly?
Three hours past dawn ought to
do it
unless dreary rays of light
burn through my eyelids
and rekindle the cyclical
carnival
that cons the day's authority
over sleep

We are more than the bodies we occupy
when I die,
flowers clovers and grass
will grow from my body
to make the earth pretty pretty
And to give homes to other life
Bodies are not temples
bodies are homes to souls and brains and poetry
My body is worn and torn and aching
not pure not godly not perfect
it is none of these things.
i am none of these things.
countless times i scream at the sky
"why am I sad?
why?
the earth is filled with so many great things
And here I am sad sad sad"
throwing my body onto pavement
because i felt like i could never build a home in it.
yet it still housed my soul my brain my poetry
body, forgive me.
i am so much more than you
but yet i still struggle to see myself
as a separate being.
feel like i am just you
just a body
yes,
you have carried me through heartbreak
made me get out of bed
held my heart even when i felt it was breaking
let my hands move to lovers, to worn paper, to old rusty shower knobs.
but
my soul, my brain, myself was the reason i let you perform any of those actions.
body, what you did was not involuntarily.
it was me.
it was my brain.
it was my soul.
it was my poetry.
it was all me me me

sweet touches,
uncomfortable eyes,
faces covered with daft smiles.
your knees shake.
trying to pronounce words
you do not understand.
the flowers are wilting
winter is coming.
they are just asleep.
they are bodies desolate of
sweet honey dreams