There are stains on the walls and mattress.
The linens have more holes than a cheese grater.
Spent cigs burned into the dresser and
the light is dim.
Oh, Flophouse
you are truly great.
The Holy Bible would be ashamed.
The moans and groans fill the room with one night pleasure.
The walls are cracking and the carpet is cheap.
For a couple bucks,
there is a hour of
"What just happened?"

I walked by a man today.
Can you spare some change?
I laughed and continued through my day,
not realizing that the wine would go down this smoothly.
This makes me a bad person or
should I be ashamed of the world?
The walls are dotted with flowers and
peacocks.
When people say they need money to survive,
do they mean food and water?
Shelter and clothing?
Wine legs crawl down the glass.
Has the world come down to paper?
I roll a quarter across the hardwood to see how far it'll go.
**** these rules!
The game will be lost if we die romantics.
Jaded individuals wishing
they could remember the song that is buzzing through their brains.
I just keep walking towards my car.
It didn't hit me then when he said,
"I'm serious."
Another day amongst the rose and tulips,
all the flower bouquets at the store.
These soaked sins will catch up to us all.
I promise this isn't always my state of mind.
When I walk amongst the flowers and drink Merlot
the wind whips up the it's best face.
Sir,
I am truly sorry.
I was on my way to another place and
forgot my humanity at the door.
The day was bleak and
clouds painted the sky with trouble.
Cheers to the sun and moon.
Cheers to good wine.
Cheers to nightmares.
I hope this poem makes me remember.
Cheers to survival.

Paralyzed by fear I sit
in this damp and draft apartment.
The hard wood floors whip into
tidal waves of displeasure.
I study the dust
flying through vacant space and wonder
about thieves and paupers.
What happen to the shining chandelier?
Broken glass and there is light falling on my face.
The Jesters are dancing in the moonlight.
The curtain whips into a frenzy and
the music tells the story of my life.
A scream flies through the air and
lands on an empty chair.
Darkness for the sake of darkness.
When do demons get their rest?
I reach for the door and the **** melts
like chocolate in the summer sun.
A scream.
I turn around and the old man is back.
His crooked smile reminds me of peeling wallpaper.
A time long before now.
This moment is not the last, but not the first.
Life is but a middle ground.
All waves cease
and the ceiling fan paints a picture of defeat.
Why does beauty need a symbol?
All doors point to more doors that point to
more apartments.
Hallways filled with creatures and empty cans.
Do demons have demons?
I lay on the floor and
let it take me.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
A poem.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
You listen.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
You stop listening.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
It fades to black.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
I don't know how to do this anymore.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
This stops making sense.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
This poem forgets it's path.

I lean forward and
WHAM!
Unfounded anxiety.

I lean forward and
catch myself.
For it is in darkness that
we truly appreciate the darkness.

I've been away for a while and
I'm not quite ready to return.
Write me off with a red pen.
Poetry dripping in ink,
even though it is online.
Can you hear the voices singing?
Once more the lion roars and then
it falls silent.
The mouse is shifty character.
The villain of this poem.
Weaving it's way through the words,
hinting at destruction.
Did you miss me?
The villagers are growing restless.
I am content to fade away.
Oh,
please Lord help me.
As I become a poetic ghost
drifting through the world of words.

Faster and faster the poem spins.
It can see the curvature of the Earth.
Memories escaping into the fire.
The pen moves too rapidly and
the ink flows backwards.
Waves crashing onto bricks and mortar,
filled with the brightest stars.
What happens when the continents collide?
Home sweet home.
Forget about the fire and ice,
remember the feeling of
holding hands with a stranger.
Under a blanket of guilt and anxiety
the night will come to a close.
Birds flying overhead
reminding society of their ethical dilemmas.
What is right and wrong,
when you have unlimited power?
We have made it through the night.
Throw caution to the wind.
Swirling around in an electric cyclone,
this is
an environmental disaster.
Unlimited power.
Let it drop.

This is how love
flies through a needle.
Forgetting about the past and
running around the world.
All in a single leap.
This is how love
dies,
gasping for air in a fish tank.
Forget the future,
punch the mirror until it hurts.
Glass shards falling on the floor.
Reflecting on the all the world's sins.
There can only be one.
Sacrifices.
Betrayal.
Laughing at the clown,
that tries to tame the lions.
This will blur the lines
between forgiveness and anger.
Which will help you survive?
The Prince and the Pauper.
Oh,
this is how the fire
becomes a flame.
One wish at a time.
Innocence.
The lions are hungry.
They have been caged for the last time.
The music begins to play.
Mozart.
Dance to the beat of
a thousand soldiers,
flying into the sun.
One day,
in the very distant future,
this will still not make sense.
Hear,
touch,
taste,
electricity.
Please,
take solace in that fact.
Falling into mythology at break neck speed.
It is wonderful,
knowing that everything can fail.