We sat in the back of science class
bored out of our minds; we'd hit each
other with pencils across our forearms
until we were striped red and white and

we looked like dancing shrimps. We found
comedy in hurting each other, playing
both sadist and *******, feeling
the power of inflicting damage
and the humility of pain.

Years later not much had changed—
the pencils now needles, blood striped our arms.
The classroom, like my home—now a car, we joked
about burning a library in Alexandria. The humor remained

but it had changed; no longer about what lied ahead
we joked about what was;
architects of a fallen temple
that never stood yet continued to be raided.

Once the jokes became stale
I couldn't swallow them anymore
spitting out a poppyseed after
receiving the Heimlich maneuver

yet others choke their whole life
on a hollow humor tumor
benign until malignant
the ruins of their adytum
cover the hill to die on.

What's up?
Not much
what about you?
Not much too
I have bad luck
and work *****
my life is stuck
and I'm out of bucks.
I know right?
Good night.
Maybe we can talk tomorrow
filled with guilt and sorrow
our connection is this hollow
I wonder why you even follow
I don't want you to stall though
because I'm there as far as the wall goes
but you got me singing alto.

I just want to know how you're doing
and be a part of your beautiful life
but to frivolous things I'm gluing
when I only hear about your night
because the things out of sight
are our real plights
tightly sealed fights
with shame and spite
this game gets light
with someone else carrying the weight
not of what celebrity I hate
but my mental state
and fears of fate
let me hear you say
you know a better way.

Let's relate through culture
to avoid the vicious vultures
that make our souls hurt
and focus on what bolsters
our growth and development
for love and the hell of it
to observe your mellow wit
between kissing your fellow lips.

We have personalities
we're allowed to see
crying and howling
to be accepted proudly
instead of constant doubting
after a not much text
a rock rough hex
leaves me vexed
not thinking or learning
I'm sinking while burning
for my secret yearning
of a way more journey.

During the winter weeks
everything looks bleak
so I can hardly speak
looking to out-sleep
this subzero streak
of record lows
and checkered toes
from blizzard blows
the geese all go
but I stall froze
in this tundra tunnel
where the water breaks
must be signs of the shovel
and all it takes
to obfuscate
my massive lake's
frozen fate
and the cozen gate
for that chosen date.

I need to erase these bland hues
for leaves to sprout brand new
to brighten my ****** view
like I'm living in Cancun
chilling at Chichen Itza
chowing on chicken pizza
staring at the colorful sky
under which I never hide
but those are just colors in my mind
looking at the bleakness and the grime
I'm weakened by this time
I need to stay alive
to see the days get wide
and colors collide
releasing me from the darkness fog
so I won't be a heartless sod
after people start to dodge
my evil dark flaws.

Once the clouds split
they'll give me a gift
removing the ****
that makes me slip
on the ice all around me
covering the water in which I'm drowning
when my virulent vision starts browning
erasing positive colors and mentality.

This world will be less neutral
after my diffused old
infused soul
find renewal
in the sun's jewels
creating more vibrant colors
than the winter's covers
of black and white
with lack of light
and saddened sight
to mask what's right.

Once the sun brings back the day
I'll put down my gun and come out to play
but life isn't fun living this way.

Once I'm no longer awake
I'm put into dire straits
by my mind state
lying to make
me crying great
until I find a gate
to my one true fate.

My mind puts me in high and hung spots
with murderous guys and subplots
or both my eyes forming blood clots
the maze of my mind must get unclogged
leading me towards the one solve
retreating to what I know best
retreating to drugs
I come down off the eagle's nest
and onto the rug
where I crawl like a slug
from the high flying bugs
who want to eat my insides
and only exist in mind.

My brain gives me visions
of the **** I used to live in
making me want to give in
to the syringe's incisions
trapped on a crashing plane
I find a needle
to silence my thrashing brain
I stab the steel
screaming this isn't real
but that's just how it feels
after countless drug deals
it's all my brain reveals.

My mind gives me an option:
to face it
or to run
I can't embrace it
like it's the sun
and I'm the one
Gatling gun
spinning spun
until the chore is done
and the war is won
so I can score my dub
and get nightmare numb.

Once I find bliss sedated
the terror will have dissipated
but when I awake this is hated
bringing back the mist that faded
and all the chaos it created.

I wake up in a cold sweat
ready to face the day
I don't know how cold it gets
but I bet it's here to stay.

If we could observe no other organisms with wings
how much longer would it have taken us to achieve flight?

I'm on a delivery
speeding down this precarious winding road
                  speeding for efficiency
    speeding for style
the sun strobes yellow through the trees
    like a sign for yielding
but the cars behind me tailgate
speed is maintained for fear of getting hit.

          Time flies as fast as
the lines on the road entrance me
          driving through a haze
the sun is obscured by cumulus clouds
           then disappears.

There's low visibility at night and my headlights are fading.
            Everything is blurry through my win shield.
         Weather gets colder in the absence of the sun
                                                       ice forms on the road.
A decision is made to maintain speed at the expense of control.
  A dusty bible slides back and forth in my glove compartment
                 dancing with my wayward movements.

     My light traces the road
like a spark tracing a fuse
the wick burns quickly for a fiery delivery.
My yellow lights trace yellow lines
so the road stays yellow all the time
         but I can see the darkness
over my shoulder as well as the road's
my headlights keep the darkness at bay
        but it's tedious driving this way.

          Movement never ceases
     I shouldn't be texting and driving
but I need someone to know I'm trying.
   This road took everything from me
       this road became my purpose
       something somewhat special
         that couldn't be purchased.

I'm on a delivery
destination undefined
it's not about where I'm going but how far
which is why I wish I could buy a new car.

Winter spills over Kentucky
like a splash of liquid nitrogen

what eats is scarce because what's eaten is scarce
scavengers search trash cans—enjoying the warmth inside

ice scabs over fluvial lakes
once their revenue streams have been frozen

a faint, far away generator screams away the cold
like smokestacks on the horizon

(all that smoke must mean something
I figure something must be burning)

a fire burns somewhere—I'm not there
I'm here, and here, there's a fire over there

crimson cardinals appear through neutral trees
like I was struck in the head with a blunt object

darkness drifts overhead where geese drift away
as Kentucky loses consciousness

gauzy snow is wrapped around the state
—a cold compress for the fall's wounds

time heals all wounds
but is a wound itself.