I sit around
watch the sun come up
go down
nothing to push me off the edge of the porch
or make me seek other things
like familiarity with
the crazy neighbor woman
unless I run out of cigarettes
dog and cat treats
and my vitamin beer things
like two drifters where one got lost
I sit
just knowing
time doesn't come around again
you better take it by the hand
like that love long gone down the river
and the sand in that thing
what is it?
oh yeah
life

ok even ****** watercolors
and over drawn charcoals
oil colors that blend blue and yellow skies
making Martian like clouds
and rainbows and butterfly poems and all that rhyming *****
do do do
make me all grab my nuts and hold  on delirious
wanting to spank the world's *** again
gets me livened up
thinking god is not dead
yet

on the stairs in front of the old row house
two doors on the front between two Azaleas beautifully
displaying their grandeur
I sit non-competitive with a thing in this world
the paint flaking under my *** on the worn out tongue and groove floor
and a tilted brick post supports the roof
and I am concretely not caring
about peeling paint or the leaky roof
or the neighbor's complaining constantly how my
Gardenia bushes by the property line so full so gorgeous
voluptuously block their view
little things don't matter I sweat them off
because I got some heavy duty
anti-perspirant I cook up myself
don't tell the DEA

bustling and hustling
foot cramps and comforting
the rest of them, they've got things to say
they're in pain
I'm straining my brick wall back
bending over backwards and picking up slack
ears and empathy being filled up
problems of people I don't ******* know
in and out, after digested through bile
I'm quiet and smile, I've got nothing to show
but it's dark here in the real
can't trust the new
fresh and crispy and glaring teeth
what's on their mind is on mine too
machine minds puncturing plastic grips and tags
add ribs or structure for fake ******* velvet
all these false prophets and gossips, I need a helmet
rip off the gutter gaurds, it doesn't do ****
we're swimming in the gutter already
feeling that spinal shudder, loving your sin
and I kind of want in
but who has the time for opening
my feelings aren't really functioning
but I feel you
I wanna grab hold of my boldness
I feel like reading me is like hieroglyphics
crytpic and frustrating as **** unless you ******* get it
but that takes time
and a comfort that doesn't exist as mine
I need to reclaim the wonders of my grime
I've got a soreness all over me like a walking bruise
putting out doesn't get misused
unless you're putting in
the ******* work
and sure
you could read it differently
but where this is even going is a mystery too
nothing really here for you to sink your teeth into
I want a life filter like a bruise
dreamy blues and purple hues
feeling like **** fits the vibes
everyone around me seems to have a tribe
and I'm wandering and lost, which is okay, I know it
those in the shadows don't need to be told to find the light
because light exists on at least one side even still
it's about a balance and a will
this **** isn't real

too quiet here
I need all the amps and energies
the barefooted hippies again
the buses painted in peace signs
and all those flowers
man
how I miss the angels
standing in front of the National Guard
planting daisies in their m-16s
those cotton dresses sans underwear
flowers in their hair
their wild eyes lit with
hope
the lucky red-eyed long haired dudes
strung out from the rallies
getting the benefits of free-love  philosophies
I wonder
can I remake Woodstock in a town so void of feel
or an America so greedy now??