Because I’m lonely
I’m desperate
because I’m desperate
I’m taken advantage of
because I’m taken advantage of
I’m distrustful
because I’m distrustful
I isolate
because I isolate
I’m lonely.

I close my two eyes
I can’t see anything
I need a hand
from my pineal gland
to give me some vision
projections hit the back of my eyelids
showing me images conjured by myself
I am the artist and the audience
finally a filmmaker
but I have no editor
every edition is a suicide cut
the assembly footage with no assembly
different stories with the same outcome
being stuck in a homicide rut
different possibilities creating a medley
of my own creations hunting me
with the faces of others plastered on
in this world my mind is God
isolating flaws and fears
always feeling the end is near
when there was no beginning
to moving pictures with no plot
just mapping out my mind rot
showing me my insecurities and anxieties
leaving me insecure and anxious
I’m starting to hate the author of these stories
but the more I hate him the more they get gory.

I've spent the last ten years on repetitive tasks
ten years you've ****** my uncredited ***
just let me know how long the sedatives last
until your ridiculous reign is embedded in past
once I'm no longer called an iconoclast
just for avoiding your rhino blast.

Don't lecture me on my attitude
with your ******* platitudes
saying I should show gratitude
like I should be a happy dude
while you slap me blue
then call me rude.

Because I'm not trusted I'm paid by the hour
don't hand me a **** and call it a flower
don't praise my trailer from inside your tower
or scowl at my failure like Bill Cowher
let's just call all the resources ours
and watch you get devoured
by workers who've been soured
by deeds of the dour.

I don't know anyone with a nine-to-five
that doesn't cut them down to size
just don't present that as a prize
to fill the bags below my eyes
you're the lord of flies
tortuous guy
to which I applied
and you accepted
because numbers projected
I'd need to be there
in your carnivorous care.

Until the death of my soul do we depart
trying to maintain the hole in my heart
was your malevolent goal from the start
so I could be a robot part
for a machine
printing green
reasons to bleed
to get what I need.

You say you have a coalition of the willing
being obtuse about their need for shillings
and then close down their building
while your pockets are spilling
into the ocean of an offshore bank
expecting me to say "gee thanks"
while your greed breaks
the ends I make.

So even though I accepted your invitation
I'm having a tough time with assimilation
like your wages falling behind inflation
so please accept my insubordination.

There was a light I was trying to find
in the darkness to which I was consigned
when I saw your candle floating in the nether
until then I thought I might be blind
succumbing to a manic mind
once we got together
a most glorious endeavor
for a bit of time
things couldn't get better
then everything died.

I saw a soul in a machine
I saw more than you'd believe
just from your candle glow
just before the wind would blow
I'd see you twisting
in gusts blistering
before taking off like a kite
flying into the perilous night.

You left me hanging
like the voluminous
cumulus
clouds above me
looking so lovely
thunder banging
becoming a sun screen
and it won't stop raining
inching into the umpteens
with no way of draining
and me still looking for something.

I guess I shouldn't be so easily triggered
knowing the time we spent
was just for rent
my text no longer says sent but delivered
so I wonder where you went
leaving me here to wither
I thought you were a giver
but now I lie alone to shiver
in the cold draft of my bedroom
your presence in my head looms
like an undead's tomb
living without life
just dread and doom
without you
just maybe mights
through Hades nights
with heavy gloom
under a shady kite
for which I've lost the handle
I was looking for light
and you gave me just a candle.

We are surrounded by the lifeless
whether it's the corpses in red
or the horde of feeding undead
we don't see any niceness
in all the ways we have bled
so an idea pops in our head
to leech the likeness
of the zombies instead
of what's righteous.

A possum parades
around in the trash
it's called young and brash
by those it evades
through darkened paths
that harken back
to wild ways
we should've passed.

The possum pals with predators
to avoid the hunters
then those gun toting meddlers
have the gall to wonder
why they got themselves a runner
when everything is a red alert
then The Battle of Fort Sumter.

We track the terrified critter and stone it
a warning from a Kentucky poet:
when society is at its lowest
we'll pray for atonement
not for original sin
but being given a life to give
instead we fight with shivs
this how the lifeless live.

When I was younger
drugs were something I wanted to do
and as I grew older
drugs became something to do
and as I grew even older
drugs became something I had to do
and now
drugs are something I used to do.

Some things are just meant to be
but they’re also meant to have been.

Russian oligarchs
are the mark
targeted to defend Ukraine
through economic pain.

We seize their yachts
that are ill got
a capitalist plot
to lower the tides of war
through boats on the shore.

When I’m feeling my highest
I want to take all your pain away
and when I’m at my lowest
I want you to take all my pain away.

All that pain we take from each other
is worth the time we spend in the middle.

The world is witnessing
footage of tanks being pulled by tractors
and the world being pulled by bad actors
perceiving it differently
some with shock, others callous laughter
watching the country Putin is after
watching it distantly
in order to avoid more disaster
or a Russian soldier’s blaster
in a frosty Eastern European fridge.

It’s not just about burning one bridge
because we’re all interconnected
so other countries interjected
taking umbrage
with the taking of suffrage
so other bridges start crumbling
under destruction wondrous
and Russian tanks rumbling
so politicians start stumbling
to dissuade the invasive horde
while not getting too involved
fearing further diplomacy dissolve.

Controlling the center of the board
is a good way of beating your opponent in chess
but nobody wants in the center of this mess
so both sides lean forward more
aggressively guarding perimeters
that Ukraine falls in between
now the world waits and sees
in a war started under Demeter
if the frostbitten bleed.

I don't know if it's a deity
or the DMT
DMing me
that it's my enemy
and that it sent me this
feeling of emptiness
in blank fields with no flowers
or green grass
just concrete towers
and broken glass
digging into my feet
agony during delete
dragging me to a steep
cliffside leap
this gift I reap
and drift to sleep
until I can't leave
the unending sea
bending me
its entropy
entering
like a centipede
frenetically
slinking down my spine
like a vulpine down a vine
no wine
or ****
can slow down its speed
no way to impede
what makes me bleed
which makes me seethe
seething to believe
there's nothing underneath
my broken glass feet
just an ash heap
I'll see lastly
before passing.

As countries continue to be more interconnected
we need to look forward and develop a plan
that eliminates our disconnections
working toward one language
one nationality
one culture
and they should all be mine
so I don’t have to change at all.

Pain is the payment we pay
to do anything worth doing

During my high school days
I was a fat kid afraid
of making any ****** advances
I never went to any school dances
because I knew this fool's chances
were lower than evergreen branches.

My definition of try
was hair that was dyed
and apparel fly
I bought some **** clothes but they were 4XL
now I only spread sheets that far for Excel
because it reminds me of my ex hell
when my enthusiasm for *** fell
because of how weight impacted my mobility
and society negated my nobility
just for the food filling me
which was admittedly killing me
with cholesterol and restaurants billing me
because I was addicted to eating willingly.

Then I started counting calories
for purely cosmetic purposes
which gave me more of my salary
canceling extraneous purchases
but it mainly stopped my self hating
I started meeting people and dating
which feels like competing for ratings
which can be quite grating
but my chances for love are fading
so my life can no longer be about delaying
finding someone who's interested in staying.

Now my docket
shows **** licks
and crossfit
no longer frost bit
by locked lips
I got this
advantage to not being lonely
but now I gain no new homies
when no one wants to know me
just *******
showing
I'm not really growing
just getting laid
but that's a decent trade
for the life I had made
getting food filleted
to a lower grade.

There is a glass dome given by father
enforcing an encephalon enclosure
citizens claw at the wall for freedom
testing the structure's durability
but they only scratch the surface
desperately covering all 360°
and the temperature only rises from there.

The citizens form an insurgency
against their flesh ruler
measuring their humanity
determining inadequacy.

The militia inside fights internally
arguing against acquiescing to aqueducts
barring bridges from being built
while legions fracture over stagnant water
until the entire nation contracts legionnaires' disease.

Bewildered beleaguerment brings bulky breathing
fogging up the inside of the glass
until the citizens can't see out of their own bubble
floating around—ready to pop.

The citizens bang on the glass
staring at their own reflection
the only way out is inside
a place they've come to despise.

Your algorhythm cracks the code to my cacophony
like a benevolent newspaper journalist columning
the dismantling of an atomic bomb solemnly
with letters and integers seemingly randomly combined
until I learn the language of your musical mind
performing tasks and functions digitally designed
to use a soft science to become a deity divine
savior of a pixel in a programming line.

I wish I could escape
to somewhere people aren’t
so mean and cold
but I’m afraid
that I might not belong there.

There is an objective truth
we all live through
that doesn't always give you
the answers you want to hear
which is always a fear
but we persevere
and adapt to the new information
or ignore it for mind incarceration
and see how this can tear apart a nation
of usefully dumb
and emotionally numb
people stockpiling guns.

The deniers and deceivers
give birth to true believers
spreading indoctrination fever
like broken breeders
following Loki leaders
claiming the Earth is flat
Covid is whack
white is better than black
commanding to attack
the different ilk
like Harvey Milk
their army built
only blood spilt.

This mind state
might make
the crime rate
climb great
when murderers believe that they're saviors
because the oppressed are framed as slavers
making mass shootings answer the prayers
of lambs led astray
guns, god, and grenades
pave our tumultuous grave.

Some people are born on third
and think they scored a triple

others are just happy to be single

I was born at home
and couldn't get on-base

I was caught looking
so I decided to take a walk
stealing to make it a double

but then I was forced out at third
because someone already lived there.

During this shutout
I look up at the scoreboard
which makes me want to score more

but the pitchers are warming up
and my destination is the dugout

praying for competent teammates
or extra innings
to carry me to another at-bat.

You didn’t sway their heart
you didn’t change their ideology
you got them to agree with a statement
that the two of you interpret quite differently.

All I see are demons
in this apocalyptic season
when everyone with a grievance
pledges allegiance
to those in agreement
of fear of the opposition
deserving paranoid treatment
for a thing called collision.

I live in fear of their numbers
I fear the heights of their hunger
I fear they'll eternalize my slumber
not wanting to go under
I sit there and wonder
how to tear asunder
nightmarish hunters.

This thunderstick granted to me
for my John Wick fantasy
lays in my hands handily
fingers hugging the trigger
ignoring the touch of skin
it makes me feel bigger
than playing the violin.

I need guns because the other side has them
trading players like they're Udonis Haslem
feeling like the metallic version of Aslan
because of the armament in my safe
connecting me to my venom
protecting me from the other's ways
with a second **** in my denim.

I'm afraid of the angry mob
to which I've globbed on
pitchforks in hand
fingers hugging the trigger
of supply and demand
the rich get richer.

I heard on the news
there is a cream cheese shortage
now I want cream cheese

I can still remember going to school
when it was raining
morphing into a mule
for things draining
from the life I thought I would rule
it's enflaming
all of this taming
with no one to save me
when the student meets master
whose whip is faster
than the policeman's blaster
protecting their interests
on the command of corrupt arbiters
so I can't make up the difference
when their money muscles are bigger.

They turn my peers into overlords
I can smell the overtone
of the rear odor grown
living in my motor home
parked at my job
the ark of the lost
heartless and tossed
friends of the frost
counting the cost
of commodity crops
guarded by cops
so I must pay the right price
or get filleted in a knife fight
by members of a different ark
their difference is stark
like they're the FARC
from Jurassic Park.

We once went to school together
until we were unspooled forever
diverging cultures sever
our tumultuous tethers
until we're rats racing
to the flats facing
the cliff casing
of a bullet blazing
through rodents raging
while automatically aging
in a game not worth saving
until our grave is paving
so the rats contract rabies
and try to enslave me
through shameless shaming
their nameless maiming
is grating gravely.

Their laugh of wit
a crack of whip
they slap I slip
in their pool of spit
which is fuel for grit
to not take their ****
until they break my hip
with the quake of work
I'm too raked and hurt
to spank their skirts
so I bank my irks
for another day
when I want to play.

The days continue to pass
as they misuse my ***
their issues last
through the time elapse
I can't seem to grasp
my life from their clutches
I tightrope with crutches
until I break for my lunches
or break from the punches
of a million miniscule crunches.

They break me in
they break me down
I can't hear any hymns
over factory sounds
I haven't been to the gym
since I developed this limp
being their gimp
getting ****** on the regular
my only communication is cellular
feeling so molecular
kicking for a living like Shane Lechler.

I look at the analogue clock
sitting next to my Econolodge cot
to see this is all the time I got
getting high smoking ***
pretending I'm something I'm not
which is happy
childhood friends outlap me
all the while laughing
about old jokes from school
like forgotten jewels
carried by a beaten mule
working for wool
so it can dress like a sheep
so it can get some sleep
to forget the regrets it's reaped.

They tell us to see the sun in the winter
get your gun to get your dinner
there's only one who can be winner
so have fun as a sinner.

A ******* bullpit
echoes the bully pulpit
cracking a bullwhip
as a cruel gift.

There's a royal decree
in the soil we seed
wearing oily greaves
we boil and bleed.

The pinniped's frigid bed
dwindled when the cynic said
his withered glen is more important than
the arctic shed and hearts that bled.

The highlands seem endearing
when islands are disappearing
and the godmen are hearing
no reasons to be weary.

Some run to the hills
some run to the pills
others turn to the thrill
of the blood we spill.

Our only answer is running
from our controller's cunning
it's almost like they're hunting
by not solving this one thing.

I need my employer
more than they need me
but our employers need us
way more than we need them.

Driving to bible study past Turfway Park
solitary stables line the road
horses fill them—broken—made to go faster
my car smells like cigarettes and sounds like Slayer
and is parked on its own.
A building next to the church is where we gather
once used to house missionaries, it has become our tent of meeting
we are watching a video of Ravi Zacharias talking for 40 minutes
received by heads planted on hands and dormant coughs
listening to him arrive to the conclusion
that homosexuals can't be proper Christians.

Having grown up in Kentucky, this isn't an unusual sentiment to hear
I used to not be gay or a Christian
internalizing homophobia: I told myself I didn't want to be part of their gay little club
internalizing ******: I ignored that which hurt me on a fundamental level
I lived like that for a while
—thinking I'd die like that
but once I could accept one, I could accept the other
—and accept myself.

Talking in circles in this square room
I used to think only bigots spoke like this
but these people have love in their hearts
Ravi Zacharias has love in his heart
they're just trying to guide people to the most direct route to Jesus
...which they say is a straight line.
Our circular saw conversation splits us down the middle
about whether militarism or hedonism caused Rome's downfall
about whether humanity dictates nature or is a part of it
about whether homosexuality is inherently harmful or not
we learn a lot about each other through this process.

Driving home on a winter night
I ponder whether I'm walking Jesus' path—am I living an examined life?
I want to make it about them—who are they to judge me?
But it's more about my relationship with myself and God
I take a half smoked bowl out of my center console and light it up
watching an entire city ride my *** in the rear view mirror
their headlights are blinding
so I turn my mirrors away.

My car wanders while I wonder
where I belong in the icy bluegrass
driving between dichotomies
directing my driveway deviation
finding peace in a portal to presence
noticing how the bare trees shoot up from the ground like
lightning bolts shocking a sky that rebukes their entry with turbulence
the trees do not belong to the sky or the ground—they keep reaching for both
the tips of desperate branches scrape freedom while their roots cling to earth for stability.

The road gets really narrow out where I live
so I drive down the middle of the blacktop
realizing that these are minds I can change
realizing something about acting locally
realizing the extent compartmentalization obfuscates love and hate
realizing the responsibility placed on me to change these people—and let them change me
the road that connects all driveways enters mine as well
as I realize I've finally arrived home.

You were more than a friend
you were more than a roommate
you were more than a trend
you were too great
you were more than more
core to core
we explored
and I want more.

I was on an even keel
that a thief came along to steal
his name is anything that makes me feel
like I got the raw end of a deal
shifting my focus
to the biting locust
that takes my attention
poisoning intentions
with toxic tension.

I want to drive all night
I want to drive into a wall
I wouldn't be surprised if I fight
or curl up in a ball
curl up until I'm small
enough to escape the free-for-all
that locks me in frustration cages
a prison where the maelstrom rages
after I failed for ages
to calm my anger through life's stages.

I feel so guilty
I feel so bad afterwards
maybe someone could **** me
so I wouldn't feel so mad afterwards
but it's the bad actor's turn
so I'm glad that you're hurt
when I say what you're worth
I should be abstaining
from being so angry
but my stinger stang me
so now I'm framing
arguments for blaming
others who tried to save me.

I become competitively hateful
purposefully distasteful
counterproductive and wasteful
completely ungrateful
for the life I've been given
because of anger I'm driven
to cause endless schisms
and needless collisions
I need my volition
to be wrestled back from my anger
before my reflection is a sinister stranger.

I need a reprieve
to help me retrieve
what makes me see
a better way to be
but my sedentary spree
makes that impossible to receive
when I'm unwilling to find help
my brain begins to melt
giving frustration welts
beaten by the belt
of my own craze
and its violent haze
I wish to see the end of days
of my insane displays
that'll be forever ingrained
in the minds I've maimed.

Last night I was chased by Leatherface again.
Am I liable for copyright infringement in my dreams?
That would be a nightmare
which I’ve gotten used to
coming back around like the blades of a
******* tool misappropriated as a weapon
reminding me I’m safest when turned off
yet being idle means trouble
because that leads to getting revved up
which is fatal
after the faceless killer takes pieces from me
reveling in my pain
while hiding behind a newly found face
from the next victim of the spree
connected to the chain I saw
which was just one link soon to be forgotten
in favor of the next night’s nightmare.

I don’t know who I am
I don’t even feel like a person
maybe that’s why I enjoy *** so much
to receive attraction
a validation of existence
proving a planet exists through its moon’s orbit.

Driving down the road at night
an oblivious skunk walks out in front of me
forcing a brake stomp
chaos car slides like the items inside
stopping inches before the skunk
who nonchalantly scurries off
frustration fills my car
whose contents have been turned upside down
but I can’t begrudge the skunk
because creatures follow a different set of rules
especially skunks
so the road continues to be traveled
but I wish I had never had to deal with that skunk
because the stench of its spray sticks to my Focus.

Get out of the bed
I can’t shock you to life
you’re not Frankenstein’s monster
because you’re no longer Frankenstein’s
after townspeople pitched a fork in the road
and spun you like a windmill
you chose the path of hellfire
burning from the death of innocence.

I'm part of a community
working for an oligarch
who treats us with impunity
and without his heart.
Due to the utmost conceit
his throne is one seat
so if we want to come eat
we'll have to compete.

We fight for master's love through production
at the cost of energy reduction
begging for an elitist induction
to the more favorable side of how we function.

The leader is a speeder bleeder
draining liters to move meters
we teeter further down steeper
in this ditch digging deeper.
The guy running the floor
is running for more
so if I run to the store
I run to his door.
He's more decisive
and callous
granting license
to his palace.

Ball and chain
walls of pain
stall my lane
hall of flames
calls for rain
all the same.

Depletion is the mission
in this war of attrition
they want to take all of me and nothing more
compliantly beaten like a loving *****
manning the counter to this ****** store.
Pieces are falling off
my fingers are broken
so I can feed on my slop
with American tokens.

I need to blast home
from this blast zone
my last known
whereabouts
no one cares about
stuck in this warehouse.
My job is to die slowly
in this position lowly
where nobody knows me
isolated and lonely.

One foot in the grave
one foot out the door
no matter how much I save
I can never even the score
which is the reason I'm poor
I reach for the shore
but I'm rebuffed
by makers of stuff
like hatred and such
a hundred acres too much
separates us.
I can't make the miles
with a used up body
so I take up the style
of scratching and clawing.

Trying to avoid the routes everyone else travels
I take remote side roads and superfluous detours
seeing sights unseen and grass that’s green
until gravelly roads are met by tired tires
breaking down in the middle of nowhere
with nobody around to help
I can see the freeway from here
where cars flock together
while getting to where they want to go.

I'm a facsimile
a fake
emptiness filling me
I think
I don't know
it sinks
in a heart of stone
protected by gnarled bone
creating a hollow home
for veins carrying a mannequin's blood
so I can be Zap Brannigan smug
with no plan to win love
just fill a hole in my heart
when I draw and discard
avoiding any form of vulnerability
so I can act cruel willingly
and shirk my responsibility
to my fellow man
I'm well off ******
overestimating my self worth
to save me from getting hurt
by people that act like myself
this can't be good for my health.

I came out of the closet swinging
my **** around
all the while singing
and wearing a crown
it’s nice to be here
out of the darkness
now the way I steer
is the farthest
without a harness
I go wherever I may
it’s the greatest decision I ever made
and all I had to do is say that I’m gay.

I'd like to believe respectful discourse is always productive
and calm debate has healthy outcomes
making the circles we run in matter
but if someone has a "debate me" personality
then a debate will almost certainly not change their mind
the most it usually does is teach them new facts and arguments
to rationalize into their preconceived perspective
but normally it just amounts to a masturbatory exercise
where both parties feel they've done something good
when they haven't done anything at all
I suppose we're meant to run in these circles
and we can only hope these circles grow
slightly bigger every revolution ran
before our frustrated legs grow tired
and we start to get dizzy.

If you see one snowflake dropping
you don’t have to salt the roads
but if it’s snowing bad enough
then yeah you salt the roads
depending on severity
you might even ask
people stay inside.

A sword stuck in its sheath
is used as a cudgel to strike the innocent
until a hardened circle has formed
and an iron grip developed.

A shell stuck in its chamber
fires unexpectedly
avoiding suitable targets
and striking unintended victims.

A missile launches from its silo
without a target
going straight into space
never looking at the striking planet left behind.

Diamonds and gold coast to coast
oil in the middle
Africa is a **** sandwich
held by mineral encrusted bread
chewed on by capitalists for centuries
who’ve choked on the arid taste before
only to come back for seconds
feeding on scraps and leftovers
using people as napkins to clean their mess
but recently their teeth have started to crack
as globalization creates visibility
the world witnesses the devouring
yet enough people are willing to let them eat
and unwilling to look beyond their **** eating grins.

There's a segment of the Christian fraternity
arguing vehemently to reject modernity
saying we should be one way for eternity
until it's their turn to go to the infirmary
then stop worrying about things infernally
and start rationalizing things internally.

They exacerbate Christianity's misuse
on legislating social issues
imposing their will
through force and ****
then when they see people leaving the church
they don't think it's from all the pain and hurt
they think it's a ******* problem with the music or the youth group
maybe people don't want to go somewhere that'll abuse you.

They reject modernity because modernity rejected them
and yearn for a time when society favored men
yearning for a culture that would favor them more
and share their hatred of the person next door.

They conflate traditionalism with regression
to give off the impression
they've just been taught different lessons
and are part of a harmless collection
but it's all the same **** in different packaging
in this society they've run savagely
did they think that after all that ravaging
we'd forget through apathy?

Why plunge us back into primal schisms?
Could it be they're just fans of tribalism?
They feel their side has the right numbers
yet they're rapidly diminishing
they want the giant to awaken from its slumber
for a genocide finishing.

These people need to find a better way to live
which is apparently something Jesus can give
but I'm not seeing that on the end of their shiv
pointed at me to make me not sin
so that their side can win
at something that isn't a game
I wish they'd see it the same.

They can grow a beard and work out
they may be able to dish the hurt out
but the simple phrase "reject modernity"
simply reflects their immaturity.

I live conflicted
between the life I'm gifted
and fault lines that have shifted
under my feet
for a dream delete
under the concrete
mob elite.

The grass isn't green and ****
I stand here beetle bit
I can't seem to sift
through the needless rifts
brought by greedy grifts
and seedy spit
on our supply side cliff.

I stand out of the range
of the morally deranged
which is how they arrange
my inability to effect change
which puts me down in the count
and down on the scoreboard
so I can't purchase a mount
to start moving forward.

I'm the disease and the antidote
I'm the hunter and the antelope
water rushing through the dam I broke
flooding the land of hope
with my brand of nope
down a tantrum *****.

There's a cynical patter in town
saying it doesn't matter if I drown
or if I burn
either way I suffocate
then put into the ground in turn
they just listen to sounds that churn
as the unbound learn
there are hounds on Earth
that scour the turf.

I sit on the sidelines
begging them to stop
but then I find I'm
cheering the beating of cops
after seeing their glocks
protecting nothing but stocks
when an uptick in mops
is what we should want.

I am the owl sitting in the tree
I am the fowl dead among the leaves
I watch the world turn from my grave
where I burn as a slave
just to return to my cave
to repeat this the next day.

Kindred transformation
correlates experience
to my canidae companion
life is a pit bull husky mix
loyal roamer fierce friend
running through thorn bushes
in the hushed hilly countryside
unaware of speeding cars
and demonic dog catchers
populating the arachnid cityscape.

I chase a rabbit to said city
keeping my dog head with me
so I can only see in black and white
a transformative color palette
allowing an allowance for my breed
to take the maximum instead of its needs.
A dastardly deal is done in daylight
for spiders to be dogs
and dogs, spiders
splitting spoils
of both species syndicating society
by painfully punishing unfamiliar families.

Four legged frenzy in my feet fortifies me
from eight legged monsters in the street
slinging webs of concrete—
a wanderer's kennel terrifying terrarium
trapping wasps and butterflies
masticating maliciously
reproducing rapidly
trap door spiders create black widows
and envelope stray dogs in white cloaks.

My vigilance guides serpentine movement
strafing from treacherous entanglement
of the tarantula treaty offering silk
cocoons claimed to be for safety
at the price of my mobility.

I must return to the warm
glow that helps me see
even if that means
crawling through the sewers
and eating from the trash
to emerge from the thorn bushes
that tear off my jackal costume
as the sun cleanses my wounds
uncovering cloud counting capability
accumulating cumulus compatriots
and oak marchers waving green flags
showing they can prosper with tranquility
but these flags draw insects that eat contentedly
until there's enough ingesting in sects to draw spiders.

I stood outside smoking a cigarette
thinking of all the politicians I resent
I got light headed and hit the cement
and found pain possible to prevent.

My dead weight fell on my arm
jamming my paralyzed fingers
doing my innate shoulder harm
the pain in my elbow still lingers.

You said I should stop smoking
I said I should stop steaming
but it's my only way of coping
with the things that I'm dreaming
drawn from these things that I'm gleaming
from the top of a tower that's leaning
I see a tiresome war beneath me
and fall on my arm obliquely.

We must be willing to compromise politically
without compromising our morality
but our morality dictates our politics
and politics indoctrinate morality
even though willingness to compromise is part of our morality
so are concepts like freedom and sovereignty and liberty
and it's up to us to decide what those words mean individually
and it's on those definitions we are unwilling to compromise.

Constantly confounded
monsters have mounted
problems I've counted
groveling grounded.

The constant confusion
from deficit delusions
create definite illusions
of excrement infusion.

The continuous questioning
can be quite deafening
lessening
the best of me.

I use a thought shield
so I cannot feel
like the locked steel
of stopped wheels.

F in the chat
for the death in my hat
I'm left with a lack
of discerning tact.

I'm living a lie
by not living with why
but idiot I
just sits down and cries.

I haplessly hope for a lucky guess
to get me out of this ******* mess
but I haven't seen nothing yet
except my own lonely death.

The job is wrangling
a constant cascade of containers
filled with everything I can imagine
some totes more full than others
on a never ending conveyor belt
all must go to their appropriate cart
softer objects like clothing go on top
while the hardline items go to the bottom.

Unloading these bundles
becomes a tedious tennis match
where the score remains the same
stuck playing a familiar game
every tote must be dealt with
before they start piling up
and lights start shining
as everything shuts down.
I scan the baskets; I scan the carts
never letting items drift apart
crossguard meshing prevents spillage
the contents pressure the straps
I'm always expecting a collapse.

Once a particular cart has been filled
I push it away and carry back a new cart
to be filled with new items of the same nature
I hope people get the things they need
but every day something else breaks
every day something goes missing
those customers will have to wait
on me to do better next time
I hope I can too
I don't want to be taking
the same orders for
the rest of my life.

I like it
I love it
I lyk it
I let you show it
if you don't loll me to sleep
by only responding with lol
from inside a black out crowd
you back it down to a bracket brown
then wait to text "guess who's back in town?"
to try to catch-up without ****
so I can see your vacant eyes and barren scoff
when you tell me lies to tell me off
you think you're sly but you're just a cop
abusing power until I pop
you build a tower to watch me drop
while I'm falling you ask wya, eta, etc.
while I'm just terrified of breaking my femora
talking on Snapchat with a broken camera
after you ask me to send nudes
like that's all that men do
so I bid you adieu to get rid of the rude
member of the brood to which Cronnenberg alludes
you respond with kthxbai
I wonder why I even try.

I wanted to sign up for the game after hearing enough
but there were some questions you had to ask first:
Am I human or horde?
Do I want to fight the environment or other players?
I said I'd rather go against the other players
before all the peacebloom and nightshade is farmed
and everyone has to download the cataclysm expansion
your jubilant response to the macabre alerted cautious receptors
asking me to join your alliance to fight the horde
because if I'm not on your side I'm undead or a troll
some bloated tauren or greedy goblin
even though there are plenty of healers on that side
you're more concerned with damage per second
because you're consumed by World of Warcraft
so I said I was more interested in Plants vs. Zombies
which I mistook for Call of Duty
you said you don't play mobile games
and the best games end in yelling at your computer
because you don't need to know where a pixel comes from
in order to **** the bad guys.

I work on a river bank in the rainforest of an Amazon warehouse
where the torrential downpour of consumerism never subsides
filling the conveyor belt tributaries flowing through the industrial jungle
so commodity pisces can swim to my village at the basin—pack line 2
where the village folk run a benevolent catch and release program
providing bags and boxes for physical deflection and germ prevention
parts, presents, and propaganda all prudently properly packaged
finally released to follow the river to their eighteen wheel hearse
transporting them to a behemoth with an insatiable appetite
it gets a primitive thrill out of being a picky eater
throwing away anything it doesn't want
letting the vultures circle the trash pile
knowing its waste will attract new feeders
salmon swimming upstream thinking they'll become leviathans.

Definitions aren’t meant to fully convey
the meanings of words
in all their complexities and nuances

definitions operate as hints
to help us with a starting point
and as we become more familiar with terms
new functions and usages become apparent
until those words are added to our lexicon

like our conversations with one another
each conversation adding definition
to our understanding of the other’s existence.