some dogs who sleep ay night
must dream of bones
and I remember your bones
in flesh
and best
in that dark green dress
and those high-heeled bright
black shoes,
you always cursed when you drank,
your hair coimng down you
wanted to explode out of
what was holding you:
rotten memories of a
rotten
past, and
you finally got
out
by dying,
leaving me with the
rotten
present;
you've been dead
28 years
yet I remember you
better than any of
the rest;
you were the only one
who understood
the futility of the
arrangement of
life;
all the others were only
displeased with
trivial segments,
carped
nonsensically about
nonsense;
Jane, you were
killed by
knowing too much.
here's a drink
to your bones
that
this dog
still
dreams about.

I know you don't do well in the cold or in the rain;
You scramble around trying to save your hair
and you jabber nonsensically in the cutest way,
you shiver and you mumble and your hands and nose go cold.

But that's just a temporary, mundane blemish
on the beautiful temple that is your body,
one that a jacket can guard from, or a towel can wipe off.

But your heart, your fortress of a heart, is what I worry about.
I know it hurts too, I know all too well that it does.
I know that sometimes, you sit in a sea of blankets and warmth,
but your heart still aches with a horrible chill.
I know that although you may be sheltered,
it sometimes feels like your heart is stranded in a downpour
and your fortress cracks sometimes.

I don't know how to tell you or show you that
I will stand in a hurricane to hold an umbrella over your heart,
I will build you a home and a hearth to warm your bones,
when all you feel is broken and numb
I will hold you and kiss you until
all of your beautiful puzzle pieces are put back together.  

So don't mind the rain, sweetheart.
I'll always be
an umbrella for your heart.

Fallen into madness
Descended into the void
Voyage into the faded
Encapsulate me,
It encapsulates me

Eyes dull and dreary
Voice unsure, and weary
Other times flat, monotone
Even as polished stone

Awake as in slumber
Mind but a dull roar
Full of fog, and mist
Something of a swamp

Seep into the ground
I am buried there
Sink into my bones
Perhaps then they wouldn't be so cold

Unfeeling, no sense upon the keys
Words seem but strange suggestions

For what is time?
Unending, unbending,
Yet curved and looped as string
Jumbled together, tangled

Float with my soul
Float in the waters of the world
Scarcely tethered, held by a thread
Adrift, we are adrift

Walk, forward we move
Into the vast curiosities

Speak, speak to me
Tell me things, knot of words
Decipher them, my brain might
Slow to process
Mull it over
The strangeness of it all

Flesh, it is chilled
Ice to the touch
Cold, they call it cold
But cold is a feeling
One, in which, I lack
Deprived of physical sense
Touch my hand, take it,
I feel only bones.

- January 17th, 2023

In the stands the crowds cheer,
It's what they do best.
And in class the professor lectures,
About the greatness expected for every test.

And at home the parents preach,
About the wrong that shouldn't be done.
And outside the officers enforce,
With their hands firmly on their guns.

But nobody ever teaches you,
How to handle the disappointed faces.
When you've gone down your own path.
Leaving the rest still in their braces.

Nobody ever tells you,
That the disappointment is rough.
That handling what can't be handled,
Is nonsensically tough.

So here I am to write it.
In hopes that it will be read.

In fragment whims of lyrical rhymes,
Incompetently attempting to ease the dread.  

Take these words and conquer.
Take them as weapons like swords.

So when they judge and cast their mockery.
Your arsenal of protection is what wards.

Let you be safe and sound during the fight.
And walk unbothered by those with selfish plight.

And journey till you reach the destination of choice,
Where freedom rings in the form of your own voice.

One tastes tiny,
same one tall.
Falling, but I don't fall.
Everything real is fake.

Where cards rule,
hares drink,
and life is mad.
I take advice from the one who smokes.

Nonsensically roaming
a world of nonlogic.

Which makes an imprint,
big me or small?

This land of wonder,
where all known impossible
is real reality.

And here I am.

I don't know how to get out,
so easy to get in-
maybe a home
that I only visit.

A buddy of mine
Hes gotten into some real bad ways
You'd never know it by looking at him
He seems nice
Put together
Smells like Irish Spring
Packs his own lunch
Keeps a girlfriend around enough to call her a girlfriend

We grew up together
He taught me about a lot of things
In my innocence and subsequently
My stupidity
His views were always skewed
But they were pure
He just said what he thought
We consummated our friendship by ramming our bikes into each others shins
Until someone bled

Eventually, like most people
He took on a nasty habit
Of regurgitating other peoples opinions

The girlfriend that he keeps around
He got drunk on new years
And passed out on the couch
And woke up in such a rage
That he smashed most of the furniture in his apartment
And bit her on the hand

He never told anyone what he was so mad about
He just pleaded with the cops not to take him to jail again
Last time he was there he was so hammered
That he masturbated in the corner of the holding cell
While screaming about fascist pigs
I think the cops were relieved when she didn't press charges

He also thought that she was ******* her brother at one point
He was completely convinced by a few misinterpreted words
And cried so much at work that they had to send him home
Turns out it was completely fabricated  

Like his mother
He feeds into baseless paranoia
It's eating away at his brain like a fungus
Branching out into sticky webs and toadstools
Choking off the few emerald vines of sanity he has left
Until the ends turn brittle and snap like matchsticks

I feel bad that I ignore most of his texts and calls
But I don't think that friends should try to use you
The way that a panicked airline crash survivor attempts to use their seat cushion
When they're navigating flaming wreckage
In the middle of the ocean

That said
Sometimes I still see the person I used to know
His doll eyes soften and the cataracts of self conviction clear
And it's like watching someone crawl out of a bomb shelter
And see the sun for the first time in years

But then
Half a fifth of liquor is missing
And he's ranting nonsensically
Peeling the paint with his breath
And I do my best to laugh along until I can slip out the door

On my way home
With the windows down and the sunroof open
With the cool air rushing around me
I usually realize how I could have been dealt the same hand he was
And I stare up at the hole punched stars
Until the car drifts onto the gravel covered shoulder
And the rumble strip makes my tires groan

...a demented entity had entered me,
Imposing its will relentlessly,
I was moving nonsensically,
Blocking blessings that were meant for me,
These days I'm indecisive , And my vices are devisive,
My minds a rolling pair of dice and is the opposite of what paradise is..
Never been a better time to better myself.
I guess I had to go through things.
Never been a better time to bet on myself.
I guess its best to grow through things.
I never cared - I was careless ,
I feared being afraid - or maybe I was afraid to be fearless,
Thinking before I speak, I swallow my second guesses,
Sinking beneath my feet, I wallow in expected messes,
I guess I'm paradoxing, cause the problem could be possibly me,
Shadowboxing , dipping, dodging , but this pain I can't see,
Physically I'm fit, never been more mentally unhealthy,
Crazy how this emptiness can feel so heavy..
Still,
Filled to the brim, with testosterone and lighting,
I remember I used to walk like thunder,
these feelings I keep fighting, won't let em take me under,
Cause..
Some days I be feeling cloudy with a chance,
Others like I can build the twin towers with my hands,
Reality is different at first glance,
But this towels in my hands , washed clean ..tryin to save face,
Devoured the food for thought ,
But I forgot to sat my grace,
I can't gain from this wait,
A rare form of bulimia,
But belive me im breathing with the strength of bohemians,
The irony is that things unfolded to this exact moment in time,
I chose to dismantle MY solitude/ hopefully for something sublime,
It's funny how things work/
I guess I missed the punchline,
I'm at the used heart salesman/
standing in this lunch line ,
Missed my train of thought/
Too busy tryin to claim baggage,
Playing the cards I been dealt/
With this full house , im Bob Saget...

Melting, changing
From one form to an effervescent other,
From one state bifurcating to its brother,
Loving the unwilling
Jumping the **** of potential
Avast.

They switch obedience
To new laws that are on them dependent
In new behaviour they are resplendent
Learning about what to do
Minimising the expenditure
Is a common feature

We can thus trace the world
To a simple origin
A simple
Non specified origin
That bends our minds
And bends out measuring sticks
Nonsensically

What one trick could be the cause of the manifold

you don't know how long i've been waiting for

someone like you to come along

you see darling, i just wanna be adored,

let me be your baby, you'll be the muse to every song



every time your words seem to have a subtle tone

of resignation, a nervous glow

i cannot help to think that it is my flaws

laid out beside yours, they seem to weigh so much heavier

so i hope and i pray

to some gods and a enigmatic fate

your feet seem planted on the ground, so much steadier



i can begin to feel you knotting up my heart strings

that tension in my chest growing deeper

but how you do it, and how it sings,

because it already knows that this one's a keeper.



you saw my physical form cloaked in no silhouette
and i showed it to you with no sign of regret

we shared a non menthol cigarette

i could make your heart race, your skin sweat.



i could listen as you rant

philosophically, nonsensically

i could tell all those boys that you're my man,

i could live my life so unselfishly.



would you like it when i'd run my fingers through your hair?

or keep you sane when the world just doesn't seem to care?

tell me darling, are you still there?

or am i just talking to the humid still air?

We have all the time in the world
She coos to herself
Trying to pull herself out
From the pit she has buried herself in.

We have all the time in the world
We have forever
With such a cursed double-edged sword as life
Giving us freedom and pain.

She claws her way with
Dirtied fingernails
Chapped lips
A crinkled smile like a chip packet
Out of the dark hole.

The sun is too bright
And she cries out like the
Monster
She has become.

'I have everything'
She says, because it is true
She holds love like a dying bird
Smothering its freedom in a hope to keep it with her
She strangles knowledge with
A dark mind
Which thinks of nothing but broken records and the
Repeat of
'I hate myself'.

Life is beautiful
She muses as she spreads her darkness with her
Tainting all those she speaks to
Even with a glance they become ruined.

Why do you love me
She swears like it is a
Foul curse
As her mother stares at her
With too old dark eyes
That speak of ignorance
And biting knowledge.

The wind howls
'I hate you'
As if it were consoling her
Maybe it was.

It sweeps her off her feet
And carries her out to somewhere else
She had been standing too long
Almost looking living
And now needed to die for a week or so
Bury herself again
And wallow
As if her world were imperfect.

She walks to school
Always tugging at her sleeve
Always wondering if they see it
But don't care
If they see her
But don't care
If they whisper about her
But don't care.

She wonders if they care.

'Look away'
She lies
She wants a hug
But she also wants a slap
And a shout
And for someone to say
'Snap out of it, you're not a child.'

She is a child
Even if she is not
Even when she is
Her eyes are old
Yet she has seen no war
Or violence
No one hates her
No one that matters
But yet her eyes seem to absorb the elderly
As she looks around her
Stealing life from others.

'I curse my empathy'
Even when someone sneers she wonders why
She pities them
She wishes to understand their hate
She doesn't heal her bruises
She longs to heal other's bruises.

Yet she is still innumerably selfish.

The cow.

She looks behind her
Someone is there
Always there
Paranoia, hypersensitivity
She sees people who aren't there
Always about to tap her on the shoulder
And she spins around
Heart racing
Breath catching
The anxiety throb in her leg pulsing again like clockwork...

No one is there.

What do they want
She thinks loudly
Hoping they can hear her
And she won't have to say it out loud.

Truly she is selfish
Even if they asked her
She would deny them
For she hates them
All of them
For they are happy
And she is not.

Why am I angry
She whispers mournfully
She should be grateful
Look at her house
Dog
Friends
Parents
Cuts
She is so lucky
She should feel happy
Doesn't she have it all.

It is not a question
She bangs out nonsensically
Drumming away
Her fingers tapping in anxiety
And fear
And maybe sadness
And maybe cryptic malevolent amusement.

She climbs back down into her pit of despair.
Its warm.

How oddly comforting.

If you were standing on the side of the road,
With your thumb out,
I'd pick you up,
She said to me.

Strangers can be dangerous, I replied,
Acting all give and take.

It's never the hitchhiker that commits the crime,
She responded and batted her raquel L'Oreal mascara eyes directly at me.

I'm rowdy that you are even going my way, I retorted, nonsensically, my best poet's nose at precisely 45 degrees in the air.

We are going all the way mon petit chou, she said and slipped her hand down the front of my jeans.