To the tweaker who just ate lunch
On the side of a 55 mph highway
I'm not staring because I'm judging
I can judge without looking
I'm staring because I want to know
If my eyes can slow down your limbs
Like the arms of a fan
So I can see that you're still somebody's daughter
I'm staring because I understand
Never mind the gawking eyes of midday traffic
Never mind the glares of the gas station clerks
I understand
You're just having lunch
I understand
The bugs, the tics, the needs
You are not a stranger to me
You are who my sister used to be
You are what the father of my niece
Is trying not to be anymore
You are every shady character
Who ever knocked on my door asking questions
I do not know your name
But I know you
I know you were once somebody's daughter
And I hope you still are
I'm not here to pass judgment
Definitely not here to help
I know all to well there is nothing I can do
I just want you to know I know
And so does any body you're trying to hide it from
And they'll be waiting up for you
Whether you come home or not
Your mom hasn't had a full nights sleep
Since the last time she saw you
I hope for her sake
It was this morning
And I know you won't believe this
But grown woman and all
Your dad just wants to bounce you on his knee
But what I know most of all
Is that your little brother
Can't go two hours without crying
He's got ulcers again
And he misses you
You probably see him the most
But he hasn't seen you
Since you took your first hit
He misses your advice
He misses your hazing
And all he wants is a sober hug
And I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to hear
During your picnic
But it's everything I wish I could've told my sister
Even if she wouldn't have listened
I'm not staring to judge
I'm staring to care
And I don't presume to know what addiction is
But I do know how it feels
I just watched you barely cross the street
I can't imagine you making it
Wherever you're going tonight
So if you die
I hope there's **** in heaven
But if you by some miracle don't
I hope rock bottom's not to far down
And that one day you get clean
And start to make amends
So you can remember what it's like to dream
And if that day ever does come
Do me a favor
Sit on your father's lap
Sleep in your mother's bed
And hug your little brother
Because there's a girl he could use some help with
No matter what you've done
Or how much pain you've caused
Through the twitching
The nervous glances
The weight loss
You're still somebody's daughter
I know you
I understand you
Enjoy your lunch

Writing a story on a topic,
Hazing away at the microsoapics,
I write stories that aren’t meant to be fun,
Just the basic humdrum.

Reality is my Inspiration,
No matter the mood I’m in.

Dragons and Wizards are to be left on the bookshelves,
As I run to work,
And meet my colleagues for a day of writing reality.

We walk the world in actuality,
And see people with all different vitality.
People of all different ideas of reality.

They speak,
I listen,
I ask,
And they answer,
And we both learn about reality together.

I then write what I heard,
Tell what I saw,
And let the ideas fly like birds.

I've seen all people of life,
I've heard many of there trifes.

I laughed at their victories,
I cry at their lost,
And I hear all their vivid histories.

I write all types of reality,
From the memories of all different types of vitalities.

And as I write about how reality unfurls,
I write about the greatest dreams of this world

i'll give you a
good kick between the
shoulder blades
rub your face
into the ground
until you taste
the dirt
*this is what it means
to fall
don't *******
yourself
into thinking
it's love.

she filled my thoughts
hazing my brain like cigarette smoke
her beauty beaten and bruised
her eyes still rang true
shes the kind of woman
you can't ever forget

"The next time we wander near I want you to collapse."

Is she blind or simply blindfolded?
Remove the cloth from her searching eyes and move in to lightly press your lips to her forehead before the day is gone and love rumours to be dead

-cj

Around the time
I entered the place I was
Already sweating like a *******.

Fiends poured from crooked parking meters - all unpaid and blinking red.
Angular threats were shooting from the eyes of dead gangsters - wives all mad.
Laughters entrails spilled out onto the rotten wooden blanks
Like Jimi Hendrix's gun-shots of Vietnam lore.

At noon the church doors will open and
There, the wind will freeze like water to ice;
Memories menace psychedelic post-war like;
Upstairs toward the 4th floor, the blast-furnace blasts away.

My eyes were pink. The music was loud.
When I heard my name, I said, "no, I don't believe it."
There was a knife floating from the ceiling and
I swore
God whispered "Run" into my ear.

A squeal
From the corner of the bathroom.
There, I witnessed a kitten reading a piece of newspaper.
Times like these I imagine an imagination indifferent,
Only to shudder as I enter the freezing winter of space.

Blame is there for all who wish to take it.

Back at the table,
I tried to reform the face of my date.
She smiled and frowned and sighed and grimaced
All the same time.
I wondered what love felt like, then
Entered a new space of hazing music, malnourished.

Hubert came through the window,
With a 8 inch bowie knife and a grin.
I chuckled and he did too.
I asked, "Where you headed?"

"To the kitchen. There are beasts in there that need killing and I'm the man to do it."

Nodding, I went back to my
Dusty periodical, silently hoping he would
Execute one of the hares or bison I
Kept near the garbage disposal and dish soap.

A vibration.
A musical note.
Echoes through eternity.
In there faces float still, poised, perfect.
A baby is born,
An old man dies,
Lovers intertwine.

The end.

Instead of sleeping, I stayed awake.
Sleep frightens me.
Dreams are sometimes to good to wake up from.
When will be the day I can stay in one?

When there was glory,
There was man.

When there was faith,
There was God.

When there was death,
There was life.

Eating up the trough, far past the fill-up,
Cooking up any excuse the twisted mind can come up with.

Eavesdropping love songs to tormented poetry readings.

A foggy night in San Francisco
Leaves a clue so slight to the hand that pens.

The raps burn against the metal, rusted window panes twanging with cheap celebrity.
Here, the brown line runs, as the Mississippi purrs chasing atonement.

New York City is still burning.

There was the sense that something was wrong when I entered the other room.
I'd heard of it. Someone had told me about it, but I couldn't recall who.
On the street, the wind was like cold milk and the smell of candles was stinking up the street.
It was somebody's birthday and it was morning and there was no escaping the day.

At noon, I was still in bed, trying to fend off the sun. Impossible
To do, I got up and braced myself for the sinking put-put of my feet against wood floors.
There in the hell that was upon me, the warden sunk his teeth into a miniature grapefruit.
Surprised by his choice and subtle nerve of health,
I saw then he was a large volkswagen sized man with teeth the size of sharks.

I was away for too long. This was here. Here was this place. I was here now, for good.
To leave would be to go to the same place, all over again.
Instead of throwing away the future, I ****** the present into oblivion.
Eyes bug-out backing up the bartender in a noon-day brawl and instead of calling the cops,
We called the bald gimp Jerry K. because his father used to be in the military and
Taught him a couple things when he was seven and half.
The man died that night in the alley by a knife and few hearty laughs.

Waking to sleep the day away.
Burning money to see what color it'll make.
Fending of friends with solitude and *****.
Shoot pool to drool and stay cool.
A ladies a lady until proven otherwise.
Candid scenes pass, though the flames engulf the lazy, littered
Streets with sleeping hobo's sick for the one's who don't
Have time to be; hard work must be done for our good country.

I stained my mind the other day. Saw
Seven virgins all spinning like circus china in a window
Too hard to see through. Their silhouettes were something to be
Haunted by and because past loves always seem to haunt me,
I bought one and took it home quickly.

She stands in the corner spinning, as I type away, grinning.  

After I rearranged her face
She started to cry. I watched her eyes as they turned from blue, to violet,
To sunken ships of hurt not let go.
I tried to show her where the desert was not dried up,
But she would not take my hand. It hung there like a bobbing kite and
Because the ocean can never run out, the bout we thought
Would break us, only made us cackle like the downtown girls we know.

After some convincing, I took her to a french breakfast spot rather than the desert.
A few spotted chinese women sat next to us with an abnormally large golden retriever.
"I've never seen such a beast before, " I giggled, "They must ride that ******* home."
"Don't be gross," she scowled, "It's an animal with feelings."
I told her I got a triple bacon egg-sandwich and she started to weep lightly into the
Broken hem of her beige linen vest. Something told me I should nip this in the ****, but
Just then, my sandwich came. I handed her a napkin then began to eat. She finished her
Coffee in one gulp and picked up her leather and left. Eating alone, I watched the golden
Giant eat bits of hot dog the smaller of the two chinese women had hid in her shoe.

Why think of the ending when the beginning was where it started?

Smart they are. **** she can be. Aye, here I am again.

Aye.

Here we all are again.

Exploring the life of exploration
Exposed by the exploited energy
Toyed by the enemy
That has no coming
But keep people running
Escaping their reality
Allowing the guilty *******
Shaming your circumstances
Stripping your experiences
Being fat with the knowledge that your skinny
Embracing beauty with the knowledge of being fat
Fat with the love of proportions
A simple fatness that can serve the city near you and stuff you up
Stuff you up with more guilt and excuses
More reason to fit into that suit as the next man
The next idea is to vacuum yourself  because what you serve don’t work …
Then to be fooled by the master of your money making
The master who allows you to work and pay you to pay him for all his work.
The cycle
To be schooled by the teachers who hold their own perception of what they believe the subject of their interest ought to be.
Then to be referred as a letter.
A letter of the alphabet determines your status
You can be chosen
Chosen enough that your thouights say you are chosen
But you will never be chosen in the life of the material
You won’t be able to determine life between death
Because thy fellow shot you with a mass of confusion at birth
A cycle I say that never ended
Eons and eons of betrayal vs survival
Survival vs the fittest
Who will win this?
Constant wars
Community of ******
A generation who are illiterate
But I won’t sleep on the ones who are awaken
But shaken by every information that arrives at their door step
The master of your money maker burned your house
To be the your god of your money making, your god of information, and experimentation
The dependency gets real
Because of the constant distraction of our nation
I mean their nation
You shaken
Because the life you hold is taken
My trips slip
But I mop my *****
******* that destroyed your equilibrium
Cerebrum tripping
Your glands out of line
Chackras spinning
And you think it’s a straight line
Spine bending you say its normal
Pain dripping you riding the short terminal
Shoes and clothes
Bags and hoes
Watches and bad *******
When the ***** were once queens and goddesses
Who respected the godliness of themselves and those forthcoming
Now you shunning the man who positive light keeps their energy flowing
Cuz you don’t like you
No excuses because that god you bow down to laying back in the hot tub enjoying living
Scaring creatures of what the mystical expectations of life would be
the tale that your living
Through a book of spirituality but change the name to religion
Living a life of a fraternity to pledge for their winnings
Hazing everyday to strip your life
March and pledge the allegiance to your God who sees nothing but killing you
One nation under god, with liberty and justice for all
But in reality life is beauty
Look in the mirror!
Because I won

Faced with disapproving faces
Glazed gazes dazed hazing my faces
Fascinated by my inappropriate places
Amassed masses ****** and passed by me
Watching the voices; noises, you'll avoid
Our inside turmoil recoil and reclaim
Property that wasn't properly yours...
to claim
Sprinkle a double dandy shot of disdain
Hand and hang myself in your vision.

They’s times when I
Jess cain’t say it good
And times when I am
Jess plain amazing;
Then teachers and snobs
Seem to all agree and
Subject whut I say to
Harsh degrees of hazing.

It seems like they ain’t never
Said the wrong word before
Whatever, they jess don’t
Seem to put me on ignore
And move to importanter things
Than grammarical stuff;
As fer me, I’m jess turnin’ them off
‘Cause I have had me enough.

I only had me an education
Up to the eleventh grade or so
A whole buncht of that silly stuff
I got told  but I still don’t know.
My dad and my mom too
They got taught just like me.
And I talk good enough for them.
Change my perfectly acceptable talk?
Really now, the chances are slim.

We say ain’t and cain’t and acrost
And other such acceptable words.
And some of the more ‘proper’ things
Ain’t nothin’ but jess plain absurd.
Like widdershins and tatterdemalion,
Sequipedalian, octogenarian as well.
If I’m expected to talk like that
Y’all can just go straight to hell.

a pounding howl on the bedspread
hell is sober but i am the opposite
facebook.com/this-what-i-want-people-to-think-of-me

my heart is red writhing pink slime
sun mother trust
black god figure head pulsing
for many years sinking into pink slime blood flood writhing
look today my eyes look livid lucid green
three headed dragon of envy beckons

i live in a guilt home built by my grandfather 457 years ago
37 years ago
born deaf and dumb writhing
old children howling at the sun mother trusting

takes too long to say goodbye
my pink soul pining
feeling for a door ****
listening for the turn of a door ****
i love you forever i think
look at my words gloat
listen to my words gloat

float to the sky past the trusting
sun mother gods head gushing
pink slime lusting
red leaves rustling
serpent tongue spitting
me eyes
my ears
and my arms

a ways to go right?
the dead light from a million dead stars?
feels that way at least
feel like i am icarus
feels like i want red white and black
heart pink
soul gone
things long
say sleep
please say sleep

place the sky in a box and hope for an easy end
sun mother truth trust lost
sun mother trust truth lost

because you snooped around my drawers
ive snooped in yours
im not color blind but ive never seen blue
i saw red once didnt care for it
remember the time you said you though you saw a ghost
a great pull
you wanted to die

burning boys who lived in water
wind and heat licked me raw
we sit big beneath little hands with loose skin
you lose people when you cant lie good
can you hear my thoughts?
No that's alright i believe you

pink slime river rising
when i die smoke my bones
color me the color of silence and smoke my dry bones
metal face does not rust

one is used to dance
one is used to run
to push very very far away
2 whole years pining
pushing people very very far away

leave hair in my sink please
surrounded by tall walls
chrismas is purple
so im told
i wouldnt know

color blind pink slime writhing
she's there
shes there right now
a ghost isn't a window
a ghost is a door
dust in my eye
my ears
my arms
bring me some fast feet

how many times did you open that door?
how many times did you leave it open?
open stars
brain hard
a boy wonders
peace died

you didnt expect men to give you respect so you stole it
throw yourself at them
i wish we could escape
inside voices ladies and gentleman
inside thoughts

tonight is really hot
better off hiding forever
learn to hide better
slowly past the hand of a broken clock
wait for it
wait for it

voice can you just try to speak?
the weight finally burned a hole in my head
rain tree look tired
big man looks afraid
pink slime shines
shines like a diamond in the fog
a fog of beer

shadows of the subway cars
while you were out two hours came by and sat in that very chair you are sitting in now
they tried to wait for you
but the room started turning into a dream of pink slime

stand back i got a question to ask
it needs to be answered
how heavy was that weight?
the one that put the hole in your head
the light from a million burned out stars
how bright?

dank breath after you smoke my bones
high fruit flame and vegan ice cream
near simple
near divine

theyre called reasons and you have none
know chaos
know a tall latte
father save me
in the name of the father i am not worthy
these woods are easy to cross by foot
in the name of the father the son and the holy slime ghost writhing

what is normal?
what is constant?
more answers are needed
thoughts speak up
spring is constant
saints lead away snakes from my path
i took an oath to this forest
an easy path
a velvet nest
a shot of tequila
bring gifts to a suffering woman
i am yellow
i am a lonesome fly stuck
do a bump
i am an animal
i am glowing flowing pink slime rising
arms reaching
do another bump
legs carry me far
eyes please see color
mother in the sky truth wondering
Blundering
Fumbling for something
Black eyes gazing
into the hazing fog
built up by the pink slime rising
amen

it comes
slow, gentle

I sink
deeper, further

my breath
longer, easier

my awareness
narrowing, hazing

I sleep
succumbing, forgetting

It snows
falling, drifting

I feel
serenity, surrender

the flurries
golden, sparkling

i am
one with god

"Be the harpooner of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody, comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders into crinkly eye-lined smilers."



l<>|

writ many years past, just another dusted off phrasing,
composed from life's lecture notes, collected by eyes tired
from the hazing,
eyes wearied by the addict-strong,
incessant observational needing,
of celebrating the loopy,
they who make this planet
capable of laughing at itself,
a helping habit for mutual survival...

should you spot a man ungainly wrought,
weighted down by a harpoon cross
cursed  'pon his Cain-marked back,
you need not move to the other side,
'tis only a make-believe poet,
with his recording device,
seizing your rhapsodies to rhyme,
his collected artifacts, your crinkly smiles,
his meat, his metier, his chosen career,
a comfort caresser of your illusions into
a shapely sculpture of words for you to keep,
a token of your now examined worth,
a celebration for the keeping...

While i was guaranteed eternal advice and happiness in my exclusive group of friends at our tri-weekly lunches and weekend clubbings, I simultaneously indulged myself in the pleasure of being surrounded by an erroneous kind of couple, the lesbians.  Stefanie and Andy were the token lesbians in our group of friends.  Token lesbians proved to be a great asset to our group for warding off unwanted straight guys looking for a way too easy lay.  My friendship with Stef and Andy would give me my way in to all of the lesbian and gay bars in the city notorious for their ***** ***** martinis laced with desire and chilling excitement on pretty girls drink free everyday.  Whenever i needed that "unique" night out on the beautiful New York town, Stef and Andy were right there to buy my first beer.  Everyone has to have that one token gay couple, no matter man or woman.  Some of us choose to flaunt our outrageous choice of friends all over the most elite restaurants and parties across Manhattan as a way to boost our inner self-esteem; while others specifically keep them around to ******* our conservative elders who refuse to give over our much deserving trust funds.  Stef, Andy and i had been friends for nearly eight years.  I met Stef on my first day of working at the Times, she was a fellow new employee fresh out of intern training hell.  From day one, we stuck together like glue knowing that if we played our cards right and made friends with the archangels of New York literary heaven, eventually we'd see the light of God.  We had thought the hazing of interning at this stress packed **** hole was horrifying but we had only experienced a slit of what true work was.  The slaving over deadlines and editorial reviews had cut our souls in half and drained our eyes of tears.  Stepping out of one of the most powerful buildings in New York, the fresh smell of cigarettes and brandy flowing through the opening and shutting doors of the nearest bar half a block away.  Given the name and outer decor was a huge signal that this place was not somewhere i would usually find myself after work on a Friday night, the offer of "first round on me" boggled my thought process.  Stef persuaded me to walk alongside her as we paraded our way through the busy rush hour traffic of guilty hubbies simply wishing to get home and bang the life out of their trophy wives in hopes that their women would forget the minor incident involving someone else's lingerie ending up in the ***** clothes on Wednesday morning.  Boredom had overtaken me personally as well earlier that week when i overheard Stef confirm with someone named "Andy" that she'd be at "The Heel" as soon as she could leave this "constipated place of crap".  Much to my surprise, my third eye skills lacked as I was under the impression that A) "Andy" was a boy, B)  Stef was straight, and C) I would end up going home with one lucky bachelor tonight who made the wrong mistake of being able to order a ***** *** and coke on ice and dance like his *** drive depended on it.  Fortunately, I was wrong on all of the above and while i was repeatedly hit on by pixie cut after pixie cut, i lost my gay bar virginity, gained my token lesbian couple, and went home tipsy as a homeless man on Fifth Avenue.

my whole mouth tastes like metal,
copper pennies from before
The Great Zinc Switch
filling my warm wet mouth.
cigarette smoke hazing
my sinuses like a frat rush
and I'm desperately in need of an Advil.
let me place my coppery lips
on your bronzed skin,
Amman to Atlanta,
nails like knives and
The Book of Biology
teasing hormonal touches and hydration.
iron oxide keeps flaking off my
skin, eczema and psoriasis in rust, and
the guitars in my ears are ******* furious.
and still:
sweat and *** in the sheets, your love
lingering on my palate like a
too sour wine; you fermented and curdled
in my mouth, and
to taste you now
is agony.
time is dilating around me in ripples;
I cough until the gas in my stomach releases itself; crystal abrasive.
it's all drugs and
tinder matches these days,
****** kids...
total sunbeam, in my opinion
there's still enough for
a couple more
hits, it's still rolling,
words cloud around my head like
so much weedsmoke, Storm clouds
on the horizon of my parietal lobe
and I feel fine.
I am fine.

The date is printed orange
in the bottom right hand corner
of my very favorite picture.
     It's from two-thousand and eight

And, as my cramping legs keep ambling
every gavel foot falls faster than
the one that fell before.
     I'm wondering
where the Hell the years have gone.

You were all brown eyes and wide white smiles.
I was all youthful bravado.
As your laughter swelled to confidence,
I was sinking straight down to the bottom.

And the water rolled on past us,
          Goose Creek
swelled with the Summer run-off...
Tell me where did all this time run off to?

The moon is looming large
in the hazing, ashed-out corner
of my wine-enchanted eyeball
     on this too-typical night.

And every hyphen lends some extra space
to staggered breaths as I recall your face.
Now I'm spelling out
     my own verdict:
defendant's moving to convict.

I don't know the final cost.
     But I got enough memories
to say what future I still have,
     well it sure ain't coming free.

I got enough memories now
     that I don't know where I will be
when a year is just a yawn and a sigh,
     and you're still lodged
     deep down inside of me.

You were brown eyes' living confidence,
I was yellow, fading cowardice.
I know you were the better one,
and I've always been scraping the bottom.

And the water stalled beside us,
          Red Riv-
-er choked with Winter ice blocks.
Don't know why I was so dumb and frozen.

But thanks
     for believing
          all those years.

My skin goosebumps with the breeze
Early July melting silking soft, my vision
Lucy firing metallic spark neurons
Across the liquid night sky
Sulfur edges closer in it's hazing accent
Pool water lapping against the edge
Makes me giggle
******* hard, eyes wide
I take it all in
in awe
The laughter of our captured youth echos
Mountains stand in shadowed silent regard
Cradling our memories, pasting them
against our walls
I lean back in pure joy
Deep sigh of contentment
Overwhelmed by sensation
Sizzle singed, stretched thin, just need a little closer
Inhaling the scents of independence
Cut grass, twilight dew, chlorine
Charcoal takes me back every time
Chemical rearrange pulls spastic front to back
*All I can think about is having you here

drip
a ringing in my ears
as water fills them
like a kiss from a gentle ghost

sway
parting between my skin
hazing through like gentle winds
passing by without a sound

kiss
soft and delicate
like a petal's touch
against my lips

cry
a final goodbye.

Slam!
Here I am, look, listen.

Keep your eyes closed, your mind open,
Every night the same dream, so hyped up on caffeine you can’t
Think-
Stop and think about what’s going on.
Make it through each day just hazing barely coping hardly hoping
Remember please the door’s wide open.

Breathe a little more, take another breath
When you can all but keep from screaming this pain just seeming like
You can never stop and think about what’s going on.
Take a chance to cheat your death, skip the ****
Make your own choices with each and every breath.

Don’t follow the lines, break free of the common addiction.
The affliction is ours, no diction in our words to calm the friction;
Medicated dreams, sedated lives what we live for, but faded.
Huffing your cure, puffing you up, that doesn’t make you tough.
It makes you weak.


To those people who can’t feel their heart beating, their breath fleeting,
Who fight with all their might through each day not knowing if they still have the will to resist the pill;
To those who haven’t found their voice, who have but are not heard - are not blessed with the word-
Who fail even on their
Third try.
I speak for you; hear my voice, know that you can live through anything, be anything, say anything.
To those who say, I’m not anything- you are something, to some you are everything,
And nothing can take that away from you.
So drop the pills, harden your wills and stand strong!
So they put you down? Don’t lay defeated on the ground, stand up!
So yell, sing, be loud and let your message ring from ear to ear, mind to mind, heart to heart and
Make your start. Don’t be just somebody,
Be you.

I come from a place of empathy
where perceptions
is a mix of colors
of hers, his and their
perspective.

I come from a place of empathy
where ears are made of patience,
drums sensitive to the change in wavelength,
de-weaving complexity
into simplicity.

I come from a place of empathy
where the emotions lacerating
hearts – sliced,
run parallel through me.

You lock into my embrace,
finding the comfort of compassion
amongst the rusty and scraping conditions.
  
When you project anger, fear, and angst
I start dissecting your past,
your rearing,
justifying and understanding
the origins of the
hand and experiences
that shaped you.

You render your mind open,
as I step in
walk among the stars, darkness
and the turbulent waves crashing within.

Your emotions tingle my skin,
and linger within me
as I understand wor(l)d apart,
developing cross-cultural understanding
and objectifying subjectivity.

Though I begin to understand
the origins, stem of your being,
swaying with your words
and hazing in the paradox of other’s being.
I choose to succumb to gravity,
and remain sturdy on certain beliefs.

{9/23/15 - 12:09 PM}  

[page 1]

“I’m Flagstaff.”

I'm borne-witness, to a splattered human corpse. I'm twice-over. Shocked. I'm doubled, where I'd have sworn, there were once three, of me. I'm the witness. I'm: the sequel. I'm the self that slept through my own screaming, for help.

[Somebody, stop me. Please, assist, with-this.]

I'm jaw-dropped. I'm probably halfway to heart-attacked. I'm trying to remember what an old boss had said, about that. I'm sure that this is traumatic enough, to ask, for a few days off.

I'm on my way, to officially knock, on the door, of the office (which is always locked). I'm hanging my hat, on a lamp, inside-it. I'm hitting the light switch, and melting-more, plastic. I'm crying the realest of tears.

I'm not wiping [page 2] them away anymore. I'm distant, from a once prioritized fear, of a nap on the floor. [Or, a drug-saturated, and dark-eared, dirt-sleep.] I'm considering the wax I'd left, on that dirt, near the splatter-stain. I'm calling out my own name.

I'm thankful for any opportunities to recharge your batteries, but I've told you before of my power outages. I'm outraged.

I'm waking up to the Grim Reaper, in my rocking chair, every morning.

I'm forgetting, "who made that chair for me?  I'm not sure, "she did much more, than paint it." I'm too big, "to fit-in, it, any way?"

"He can ******* keep-it." I'm not sure who said that. "I'm right here, you glorious fool." I'm far-from, and a Good Word Away, from a fool.

[page 3]

"You've spent so much ink, on your Kryptonites. Can't we just shoot some cans, off the over pass, with our laser vision?" I'm stuck-on. The idea's that I must do-good. "You're better, than done-good. You're the Great-Best-Unfinished." I'm confused...

"Well, I'm not. I've been taking over, for years, but you've ignored it with tears, and the salt you spit angry, at selves, far more jangly. I'm the S on your chest when it stands for success, or your second-half, or your superpowers."
I'm Superman!

"Sure, but I'm Flagstaff. This is my sword. We've got an army of angels on the way. Suicide is a coward's [page 4] out."

I'm not professing any bravery. "You've pretended you were better to brothers, and sisters, for almost two years. Your responsibilities outweigh your rare ability to regret your existence. Rally-up, Mr. Wizard." I'm not as well-versed in the old craft, as I used to be. I'm not really writing fantasy. I'm self-centered, "in the middle of," a really nice day.

I'm aggregating all the energy I can use, to arm my amazement. I'm splitting my personality, to prevent feeling so-pulled, apart.

"Now you're getting it."

I'm spinning gems, looking for lost contacts, and rebuilding, a burnt-bridge... [page 5] I'm just gonna need one day asleep...

[...]

at your house... in Right City...

[...]

I'm gonna chop my horns off, on the rails of the train tracks. I'm simply gonna rest my head...

[...]

on the platform...

[...]

and wait.

I'm not sure where Flagstaff went.
[...]

"Get the ******* the floor." I'm not sure I'd call this the floor. "Get the **** up, we're going to bed."

I'm not tired. "Well, you're gonna be."

[I'm halfway to the decision to get back on my feet, before the screaming subway shuttle smacks the wrong-side of my right horn. It splinters and cracks and spins me, slicing the [page 6] lesser half of the left-one, on the lip of the first car.] I'm checked for head trauma, quarter-horned. I'm hoping the devil was bid: "back down."

"Sleep now?"

I, uh... I'm not sure who I'm talking to... this time.

{9/27/15 - 12:28AM} An angry redhead operates farm-equipment (the heavy-kind) with an Xbox controller, from inside my television set. My eyes are trained on the answers, with which, I had, typed-in, responded, to his voice. A skunk walks by outside. I can't tell if it was attracted to the ****, or the weasels.

I'm just about to lose myself, again, along [page 7] with everyone else.

"Stop letting yourself get bored! I see you there! Your eyes, glazed-over, like this'll be just another ******* poem you read, over, and over, again, to yourself.
"For yourself! I beg you to wipe the cobwebs, from your eyeballs, and break a little bad here! **** it, man!"

**** it indeed. I'm too clean to fight the **** machine. So roll me a fattie, and sell-off my spleen. I can be mean, but I hate when I show it. You-zhuh-Lee trip, when I'm flowin', but  find ways, to keep  goin'. And I don't wanna do wrong by my friendships. Want them to know, [page 8] when I'd said, I "love" them, I meant it. But I don't have the money they've been lookin' for, I spent it. Bruising up my knees, begging: "leave my skull un-dented!"

Rented out the couch, before I stole my brother's bedroom, for the afternoon, in my dreams, I was singin' show-tunes. Doomed to sound. Like "rip-off-Danny Brown." This clown, that clown. We still around. Came back to your hometown, and ended up inside, your little blue notebook. Said "you shoulda read it!" When you spat-that-****, the Earth shook.

Forgot to ditch my henchman, as I entered fourth dimension. Words are sentient, and mention, more than definition. Hush up, listen, see! We be the glorious ones, without a gun, but weapons that, from our tongues, are flung, and they're still unheard. Weapons are glorious words, see-through, the story.

I'll purge all the toxins in your mind. Like oxen, farmed for hides, by the shepherds we were finding. But the field is made, of food, and that dude's always been rude. It's time we charge, with-horns down. Buck the rodeo clowns.
Off the cliff's a better-tread, head above water, 'fore we drowned. On bottom-rocks we'd woke up dead, yet still without the farmer 'round. So if instead you swim to nearby islands, start your grazing. Freedom never came by anyone who can't endure some hazing.

I feel for others but can't relate
That's destine and fate
I don't always know what to say
I dk the feeling but try to understand
Been on both sides one alive
The other is feeling dead inside
Trust is hard after being served betrayal
Years off being closed off not easy to open up
You want things to change but feel the same
Day after day time after time
Pushed out but once in its whatever
All the hazing meant for better

Dear bully,
I did what you wanted me to do
And i did it just for you.
My wrists are bleeding and the life in front of me is hazing.
I have no thought of turning back now and this is not me fazing.
This is you and what you have made me become.
Inside is a contagious, heartless, careless, & selfish soul that just so happens was passed on to me.
You being put away forever is exactly what I want to see.
It's not as hard for me to be here looking down on you in a locked down facility,
because it wasn't hard for you to be looking at me and labeling me in a suicide committee.
Maybe just maybe, if you weren't such a ****
We both would've had something to live for and we both would not be hurt.

Morning abate
with hazelnut
spread on
toast that
surmount any
surprise with
lather that
only minutes
elongated tweezers
frequent inside
strand that
abet her
with hazing
particles for
extremes package
soon upon
her face

I wonder what will happen to us when this becomes permanent
When I can't wake up to you laying beside me 9 out of every 10 days
Our only form of communication will become Skype, texting and phone calls
And we both already know we're horrible at keeping up with those

Will we fall apart at the seams like a t-shirt worn for year after year
Or will we hold strong like a building that withstands thousands of thunderstorms
I don't want to see such a bright friendship disenegrate to nothing
But as I've learned time and time again sometimes theres nothing to hold on to

I'm not good at letting go, but I'm worse at holding on
When everything I want to see us become is played against the chaotic picture
Of what we will be enduring in this next year
I feel tears tugging at the backs of my already red and puffy eyes

And so they fall like water pouring from a faucet
Thats been left on and walked away from
Pooling up and flooding every thought my insane brain can formulate
Hazing around every memory of you and I like it is already too late

Is it already too late to save my heart from this pain
I ponder as I realize that it is, the amount my heart aches for you to be here
Overshadows any thought of being able to pull away or forgetting you
And I answer my own question

Of course it is too late to spare myself
Now I can only cling to any hope that we can continue this closeness so far away
With my every being doubting myself and my abilities to keep in contact
My memory reminds me I have failed at this before

Turned around after just a few simple months of being apart from someone close
The knife in my back is turned like a wind up jack in the box
Every word used against me to explain the loss of my best friend
Is the music torturing my ears and the horrible clown of realization pops in my face

I don't want this to be you and I just as it was her and I
But what happens once is known to happen again
So my fearful heart will bring up it's guards and try to push you away
Forgetting as my brain knows that it is already too late

I guess this is what we get, for picking colleges so far away.

The drink stopped clouding

The chemicals stopped hazing

The pins stopped heightening

The blades stopped clearing

The poetry stopped calming

I need him
                    a new distraction
                                                    t­o make me
                                                              ­            forget everything that
Hurts

Remember, this phase
"If John Doe jumped off the bridge? You gonna do it too?"
And as a child or teen, we might joke about it.

Except for the answer was no.

So it's odd when youth that's older than eighteen get hazed in college and from the hazing dies.

The university faces attention for the event.
But ask yourself?
What power?
Do this organization has that adults of youth follow stupidity?

Why?
Do sororities and fraternities have events that create havoc amazes many?

But maybe the main authorities of sororities and fraternity needs to set guidelines signed off by universities too.

But in truth as adults, these youth must act responsibly too.

No times to let others dictate to you.