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I understand your madness.
It explains your starry night
humanity so black and white
colors splendid in the light.
I broke my own first
maybe it was worst.
It hurt me from Dad
war's scars were bad.
So much love wasted
Lovers barely tasted.
Sing these poems silent
make them your song
feelings always spent
right a certain wrong.
I see wires naked
all machines dancing.
Sociopaths are prancing
I turn my hand around and
all the lines on my palms
are full of ***** traffic.
Even when our lives are sleeping
our souls are slaughtering friends.
Dress in black to pretend sorrow
for their inevitable ends.
I stay in the car an extra moment
and don't turn the key.
in a sepia of symphonies.
my loneliness is your sea.
this morning,
there was a mother walking
her little girl to school
hand in hand,
and they swung their arms
in seconds and hours.
this afternoon,
a woman threw the ball
and her dog ran and chased
dropped it by her feet,
and there was love in them
and she kissed his face
and let him lick her nose
like wet snow does.
Tonight the clouds bloomed
black blood and the graffiti
on the walls of factories had run,
the bins were overflowing,
The train rattled and hummed on the
El tracks, slowly crawled to its knees
delivering me to the busy emergency
shot in my vein and shot in my back.
I don't know
our place in all of this.
city of big shoulders.
hog butcher and this
paradise purgatory.
this waiting room
of fate and throwbacks
this sick bed,
this snow covered meadow
of a blank page.
this black mirror.
I was lost in mutation years ago,
pulling out the wires,
scratching off the barcodes,
turning tricks,
counting licks,
walking backwards
through the
wreath of my own ribs.
holding back something,
maybe complete collapse.
I don't know
if the universe
is fair if you pray
or just persist.
a single raindrop dancing  ballet
   on the windshield after falling,
streaking, blooming in a rivulet
of the God awful calling.
take a breath
and go inside
to my funeral
minister speaking
soothing lies
as they say
their goodbyes
nobody cries.
Born of a ******
so many of us are.
Why Christ a God son?
I want Tablets of God
in burning bushes
giving us more rain
demanding less pain
so much to explain.
I was well into my cups by then
angered by my arrogant cowlick.
I always go to war at midnight
armed with beer's beloved logic.

I juggled scissors and mirrors
snip snip drink more beers.
Wake hungover hair butchered,
wife wanting divorce in tears.
Death is a rebirth back
into infinity's dark mystic
the vast door opens a crack
into time's lonely final tick.
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