Zeus

Zeus

Pole dancer on the town hall roof, come and watch the

Empress with no clothes stripping and pimping

Colors she assumes like a rainbow descended on her pot of gold

Sparkling as she wrinkles the bold and bare silence

Like an overcoat of assumption of perfection

Bolt out verdicts like Zeus singe on the sins in rods to dismiss

Blame like absolvent with a no sense in a vagina

The path of such drama mouthing out what shall and shall not be

Stand up for myself and get the F off of me

Quit acting like I am the one who lied

Quit acting like you were the one who cried

Quit acting like you have ever been in love

That would require you to be mortal

To need another human for comfort or support

To assume you could not bolt the life out of this

Edifice to carve your perfect face

Ugly as sins, ugly with the fringe of a Disney Witch consumed

Complete with the power to commit perjury guilt free

Stand in pink pimp power suit and condemn me

For your high and mighty, the worst kind of problem

The one you have to solve and no body sees through the columns

Of bars she put up to keep the concern for her strikes to down love

From coming close imprison me but segregate yourself

From human emotion and into a prejudicial hell

I see the sentence in time and I will keep walking the line

Ignoring you when I can finally take this knife off my throat from the threat of you

Stealing my independence and after you failed to take our child in days and

Forced her into a decade long maze to see through the hedges to

See who you really are and when she comes out how will you deal with her?

Questions she has finally found the maturity to ask?

What will you say when she knows that Zeus with her vagina full of busted testicles

Was the one to blast her life into shrapnel for no reason, but

Unspoken, who didn’t have to stay but should not have had to rage

A war on her father who you tried to erase and what will you say

When she finally speaks and causes your silence to bleed

There like a wound you tried to keep under bandage, locked in a closet

To put on the visage of perfection the God of mythic proportions

Up there with the lightning and the biting at each day like food for the one day

You go down to that jail of the lies you have constructed for yourself

Truth is the only way out the key you threw away, high on yourself

Pride of idolatry your internal mistake

Hope

Hope

Hope like a hand grenade

Hold it in and build it up

Questioning the room I have inside to hold

Questioning the strength of cell walls not to explode

Stretched thin, opening in the skin

A hernia begins to separate the tissues

Slipping through the seams of empty and extreme

Limitations my faith can hold hope like

Fresh water in my hands, slipping through fingers

Sealed in plans to carry from an oasis to a dying friend

A desert away and a thousand sand prints in

Wanting to and not knowing you

Wanting me and not being able to see

If I am strong enough yet to stare into the sun

And not come back blind to all this life in front of me

Seeing only the black of all that is behind me

A carcass in the sand and trying to grow tendrils

To reach, twirl and dance into this air

Praying for capture in the passion of hope

Praying the doubt does not make this savior explode

Miles Missing

Miles Missing

Being that man that stands in the background of a painting

In a portrait of the life bled in his hands brushed out in his blood

Sketching outlines of a wife and her best friend wandering the

Confines of his bed like marmosets wrestling in furry black tails

Of times retold in measured scales of silence

Of self eliminated master pieces, affronts to shed guilt like a plastic

Façade veneer to appear over every subsequent syllable to counteract

Adultery accusations with anger and rampage and the battle cries

Of every night was so seriously waged to prevent my own mistakes

From causing this divide, as if the rodents weren’t crawling

And the battle hasn’t flied over my own bed in an affair of dreams

Emotional distance in between her skin miles gone missing

Fear in years packed in and listed as no one’s belongings in her mind

Taking ownership of nothing here, mind away miles missing

So hard to remember any face that asked for me

That needed my hands to hold skin and breathe in

Skipping and printing my blacked-out face in the background

She can stay in town, needing no one but pride

Damage me and dance with him

Eating Alone

Eating Alone

I look at myself and eat alone

Consuming the meal presented before

Everyone plated in the ordinary and miniscule

Accepted the unseasoned medley as a basis of standard fare

Of menu’s predetermined and printed on a repeating cycle

To see this censured fourteen year old face static to a flag pole

Five-feet nothing off the ground stump

The sophomores keep passing and I look up and the world

Looks down as if I will never be a man

My age like an inverted mathematic discounted

For all my experiences seemingly spent eighty-five percent alone

Wallowing in this irrelevant nonsense

Never ever connecting looking like a pubescent nightstand

Observing with empty drawers begging for deposits

Cavernous with an acknowledged plateau

Weeping that there is no input or wild horse running

Vapid pursuit forgotten years ago in the recognition of scores

Spun irrelevant for the one hope that there was her

With tangible clarity to grasp me like a lightning jolt,

The façade itches in an eerie laughter that I could hope to

Barter for faith in my own worth and ask her for permission

To breathe and exhale without censure

Knowing that she has smashed me to the ground like porcelain

Into bits wandering in this scattered sand

Warehouse

Warehouse

Faith in you like a counterweight

Unknown deeds piled up like deposits in a bank

Measures for someone else my acts are placed in cobwebbed corners

In boxes and storage of the sums of what I will do anyway

Whether you exist or not I will be stacking blocks

Of days and nights and though they might seem nothing more

Than cubes on brackets I hope one day you will want to

Open the captive containers of papers and folders ink on covers

And color in the borders of rules followed and Sundays hallowed

Out to remain here as a man wanting and knowing

That some things did not need to be, but were

Disappointments formed and stormed off into a memory of an army

With bloodied lips and wrinkled cheeks and yet still we meet

Here in this ware house of moving and unpacking for the mapping

Of where we both want to go off from here with a push broom

And a fork lift and wait done and over with to find the code

The letters and numbers of all the directions told out like a final

Pirate run to un-sand with hands scurrying like turtle flippers

Shoveling the time caked on top of buried treasures

In two shells uncover everything in paper back skin read and

Let the other in for days are gone and the line is here of

Wanting more in one sentence than every point before here

Running with out abandon, knowing now is finally now

Orphan

Orphan

If I write these words then it means you do not exist

But in a figment of a photograph smiling at me

In the waves of a an orphan woman wandering in

My imagination hitchhiking hands in pockets

Staring at a desert horizon of cactus and orange haze

Drinking down another day over a hill

A silhouette in flowing locks taking steps over the parts

Of speech I wish we had, tucked under the saddle inside a bag

Of tools for a road I can not follow you upon

A vagabond of rose petal smells and match-struck boots

Burning a fragrance wandering my sheets inside olfactory memories

Concocted from want and knowing it’s the same stale smell

Of my follicles tumble-weeding on night after day to say

I wish my words sounded differently, a tangerine dream

Scripted on the hieroglyphics of a past that never was

Just a picture of you resting there and pause

Dream a song and a morning to your words the stroll like a croissant

Upon my counter, breakfast on the dollar I can get no one to accept

For thoughts that left my soul so long ago wafting

Trampled under time like the bed sheets of a life unfolded

Just for one side tucked in a space in half and knowing the path

Of smoke rings over hills puffing up in signals never seen

That she is walking on, silhouetted by the sea between

Orphan to a lover she will never meet

Three Steps

Three Steps

Three steps in to a trail with cluttered roots and

Untrimmed bows ducking down and head around

For time to take three steps, to move a bit

In leaves and strips of time growing over

Mud soaked lines, feet are sore, hands are numb

Toes are wet, the road is no where near done

Carving out these three steps, make them now

With so much left to parcel

Move my body into a place, easy for others

But not for me, to greet this air some others

Could just put one foot in front and see

Bedroom doors and rocky crags

Blockades of seventeen still there at thirty

Wishing for simple and only getting shards of glass

In each footprint and connected to a pace that will

Make this place a decade for a single ankle

To turn the corner of the morning

Still not sure if this leg is going to make this journey break

Into three steps more than I have ever had before

To move from here to there but the kudzu is grown

The vines are sewn across the opening like a stitch of a mask

That frightens and blasts an expression that I am not meant to ever pass

Yawning in anger as the time slips the smile of a stranger into teeth gnashing

Confrontational at the concept of me passing, Freedom in doubt

Eternal in border that no matter the year there is an order

And in that I am single, I am spaced alone

Three steps behind growing older just over there

Never closer, remain bare and naked standing wretched

Marked tattooed at the flood of the sun’s spot light through the canopy

I am to plant there within me, silent and brooding

These moments are consuming places, I shall never proceed

I wait like a castrated plate resting on a countertop

Empty but for the flesh around a seed gone to rot

Picked from a tree beyond my reach given to numb digits

Incapable of gripping, a mouth gagged and dripping

Inside with salvia dried out in the drama, witnessing a slow motion movie

Of a nectarine slowly consuming itself in a bacteria bath to blacken and spread

The red into darkness cast, feeble and frail, withered and stale, futile to move

In this straight jacket life, three steps too many in this trodden down plight

Sequel or Prequel

Sequel or Prequel

Exhausted and racing for sleep, burning eyelids and crackling breach

Between the aperture of my vision on fire to bleed tears like trails

Of stripes rolling down my flesh and carve out the lines of emptiness

Years of school and prayers for some other voice to hear

Inside this rattled cage impressed in self-generated fuel to start each day

And continue to move, to write letters that only I can read

Accepting that there is an indolence and complacency battling inside

That solitude is a mainstay, relinquish pride like an airway

To launch the planes of what I can be flying low on solo

Not far off the ground, but at least I might break a sound barrier of

My own silence somewhere there in crevice of a liquid trail

Camping out impaled like a knocker on a vagabond door

Never expecting reaction, response, and last of all invitation from the

Hallways of this Earth, there will always be a her along her way

Living another life and I will pray, holding hope in the arms of a prayer

Kept in a poor secret raided from the air pocketed in my lungs

Borrowed for the sum of tired looks and broken eyes

Needing oil and jaded for surprise, never been and never had

The sight of the unexpected coming past, like the ending on a reel to reel

Out of nowhere a rider on the heart to feel a freshness, a novelty in bloom

Laughing at the thought of something so all together new

Never has happened and Sisyphus has seen more diverse endings

Than my years to shatter pretending, as if her voice could crack ice

Frozen over hardened sight and burning in water rocks of shackled light

Bending here in the throngs of my head burned and learned form nights

Wanting medicine in arms and skin so long a voice, a girl, a life more than

Has led me to feel, sirens and medusas eating me alive, avarice in her arms

Like shackles of tin and metal hearts, woman of cackling crows, a murder of deceitful tones

Trust melted in the skin of the only being I called love

Watching an inferno and a guise, roads of scorched earth and infertile fields

Hoping there is another chance before the final turn of this wheel

Playing this film on screen, searching for hope to pry my eyes open

To watch a scene I think I may have already seen

To be surprised would mean I still have a chance to be alive

To see the same is to die another thousand days alive in a fire with melted skin

How do I find the strength to keep watching when

The only script I have ever read, tells me just how this story is going to end?

In slumber

In slumber

Notes left while sleeping, hope on the wake

To exit slumber and read a single page

Waiting as if pausing on mail received in an unopened letter

Of your preserved response hovering there in print

Like a monarch in orange and black fluttering

And buffering the taint of doubt with the taste of possibility

Still wet in the waft of air sliding across

Careful not to breathe in too deeply as to consume

Use it up like a junkie transforming from intoxication to pursuit

Of that lost high light watering the tongue in desert droplets

Parceled out in singular expressions of wonderment

Prancing on sunbeams sliding down like children at amusement parks

In glee at the roller coaster of packaged strapped down entrees

Of knowledge arriving at my station and I want and I don’t want

To discover the contents of the glued down seals of your

Judgments scattered out in some you-determined quantity of letters

Arranged in an algebra of variables I have no control over the syntax

Of ex’s  and why’s and this time equal to a tax extension

Filed for and granted without word or actual response

Just some signed-on form from my assumptions that I have the time

To come up with the answer to the what if’s and unknowns

Of what has been stoned into those words resting on that page

In slumber and wait for me and all I want to keep is this hope

That there is more to read than this has all been taken away

In some conundrum of cursive scroll waiting for me to unroll

And tip toe across my eyes open to the prize or the trap

The rolling boulder barreling down to a flat man cast in a role of the last

Man to fall for the section of choices that left me vulnerable

To your siren chorus of voices believing what I wanted

In place of what should have and answers need not be an end

But definitive in turn that there is a left and a right and get off here

For the ride has ended and the ticket has expired the night again is coming

And I am so tired of this humming bird of indecision fluttering around

This bedroom, beautiful but noisy, painted in colors, should be flying free

And to open the door to the bird’s freedom I must read, listen and believe that whatever is written

Has already been given to me in peace to see something beautiful stay or leave

The answer has already landed I just need to breathe

Blonde on the bomb

Blonde on the bomb

Blonde on the bomb

Pacing this sidewalk along, heads are going to explode

Dangling limbs smile in their adjustment to the uncomfortable

Sudden need to appear more presentable

Laughing inside the detonator is disarmed but it is futile

To allay the alarms of rotating retinas and telescoping pupils

Rooting in doorways stumping toes on the pose

As feet do not proceed to where logic would tell them to go

Drivers are partitioned between the song on the radio

He would like to be, a pair of brake lights and

Her movement in taste that there is a yellow dress

Moving the afternoon into a hooky palace of lunacy

To follow in collar and somehow make amends for the squalor

His current life has been that only now he has seen

What he was meant to pursue

A girl in a bombshell watching his moves

Awaiting and casing this joint, taking his arms down to a point

Of complete and utter vulnerability, extract his masculinity

In one swift movement of a curl, blue eyes like drills

Mine the still image of a man expecting nothing but presence

To compensate for his total deliverance of all of his will

All of his net worth inked down on a napkin to transfer for time

That up until now all of it was a lie, unconcerned with the shrapnel

Acid Test

Acid Test

Acidic touch with scale shed hands

Fallibility like an overcoat, splashed and sprayed on

Bath me, dip me in this mix of rodent, reptile, not worth while

What options do I have, just silence and a ban

From ever trying to make a request

Rejected in every semblance of a hope

Escaping misunderstandings I keep making

Out into this gaseous-form figure shaping in her mind

Why can’t I seem respectively normal anytime?

Morph me into an adolescent to relearn the management

Of normal discourse, words make it worse

Lie to myself about timelines and readiness and all I get is a cloud

Of forgetfulness to hope to consume like Alice with the cakes

To grow too large and ignore my mistakes

But I am always small and the memories are what stay tall

Why can’t I run and touch something genuine?

Out there so erudite out there dodging my sight

Walled away and so I say this is all the game
I know squawk and walk and it funnels down the pot

Skin still burns, scar so fresh that trying seems like the thousandth failed test

Loser on the turn awaiting another answer and it slices in to a corpse

Mash this flesh, no matter the depth

Just a zombie walking this space, numbed myself to ignore the dates

And times and lines, I have tried to utter and found

The mismatch waiting to discover that in some past life I was a hell of a bastard

This redub is a reciprocated conversation in chemical reactions

To those broken factions of people I once left behind

Now I am one, ignorant to why just scaled up

With these useless limbs incapable of gripping the right way to live

Pirate and an Island home

Pirate and an Island home

Spin the spool and let the rope extend

The fibers are stretching and this time has come to its end

The pale fabric is rising and soon to wave

Assent and sail, this vessel has accepted a fail

In every single attempt initiated from this captain

As probability would some how exchange ineptitude

For a common stage and traversing a divergent outcome

For once for when there could be another flag to send

Up the pole or wheel these waters to a foreign port in bold

Accidents crashing and at least tasting the flavor of the moment

As the jugs of rum go smashing against the mast

That there was some semblance of difference to the role I have cast

My lot but somehow this is all a plot of one and none

To ask and see a thousand movements away from me

In winds shifting simply on the lifting of my hand to the test

That this could sniff promise on the bows of this salty mist

Imprinting how the sight could craft my eyes,

Just taunting me to keep them closed next time

Patch them both, better blind, than knowing the consequences for what’s inside

All this sludge drenched home trudging through with a seaweed coat

Of strutting planks and abandoning an empty ship

Drinking an ocean in one sip to throw this down inside

Soak it in to the world’s largest empty space

Attempting to fill a grave of beaten soldiers rejected and swallowed

Pride gone years ago and a headless fool followed

Out on pirate raids to tell the fringes of a story that just digs the grave

Wanting to be some other soul and these chances come like desert drops

Mirages on a window sill of closed off nothing-wills

Read out after orphaned-deaths to describe the wishes of the dead

With cannon balled-out guts splattered on the deck

Of a ghost ship drifting between nowhere and a missing port

Out on an ocean eating old stories repeating

For the nourishment of some form of meaning

To this odyssey why won’t it find and end me

And obliterate this wretched hope of ever finding home?

Parachute Cockroach

Parachute Cockroach

A cacophony of failure bellowing from every ledge

Of ceiling molding perfectly level and every molecule

Descending from its plateau is a horror of decibels

Infiltrating the parameters in a block of denial

To every pursuit, to rebuff the notion of the parachute working

Or these cardboard moth wings moving with enough speed to conjure lift

And slow down this descent into a quagmire of losing

Of these loose strings unspooling from the bungee line

To let out the excess and ugly faces find

The floor a bite like an elephant into the wood

Cockroach can not broach the subject of success

Without a hand hammer pounding down to smash

The last hope of climbing back up to that space

On high where somehow the animal in me is still alive

To attempt again and not eat the pavement

Bloody these cheeks on asphalt or tile and join the cult

Of zero victories in a million attempts, closing in on records

And theories of what can not occur of who will survive

When all is taken and there is no shelter or line

That opposing forces have not crossed to object

To hope like a rusted shield bursting in red oxides

Fluttering in suffocating dust impaling the will to continue

With stabbing corroded blows to ensure failure’s permanence

Compass

Compass

The direction is spinning like a demagnetized compass needle

Three-hundred and sixty measures of moments each with a choice

Deferred and accepted and driven all of these reconfigured decisions

Mapped out in pittances accepted at probabilities and contemplated

Actions derived out with pockets of wonder trapped in like bubbles

Of what if’s pressed under pressure mounting with each divergent option

That the next may be the last corner stepped forward and bent

With knuckles blushed with scrappy remnants folding over yet still attached

Water holes and bamboo shoot booby traps under ground mirages

Thirsty, parched and desperate and each foot to press and maneuver

Through the trip wires fosters fear in frosted beer mugs chugging

Both replenishment and intoxicated lunacy

Towards a flag on a hill waving like a howler monkey

Leaping vertically in rambunctious exaltation in station

And wait for my approach that I had located the base of operations

For all these foreign counterparts lingering about in practice maneuvers

On the off chance that I should happen by at three am on a Thursday

In October with no shoes, an owl tattoo, and a picture with a question

About the girl in the photographs where a bouts

As if the villagers could some how direct me to

Capture the flag

See Saw number One

See Saw number One

Reaching in to me and out to you

These phrases that I exhume to exert

On a sail and mail with a verse indiscrete

Holding back stories of building rationale

Of why I am here and pale wandering between timid and knighthood

Praying for your chorus to return in resolute voice

And I give you a lead like a trail

That you follow and request me to continue

Onward into expanded these paraphrases

Into directions through the hedge maze of me

To at least a step further without shame or burden

As a labor but as an ordered item like a drink upon a journey

And yet I wait after throwing this bottle in the ocean

And I ponder thunderstorm or disinterest

Brushing a shoulder with the flittering tickle of wind

Fluttering my syllables to the ground with a head turn

And I sit twelve days in between my words and your number

Flying in on a whim and yet I return in a blink of honest candor

I am rebuffed for you to requite me in an hour

The silence proliferates like jellyfish tentacles

I am exhausted from ignorance of why these Olympics take place in my city

Year after year, why can’t some one else play

My will is too earnest and my tone too weak

To accept the see saw nature to my overture and

Your waxing and waning tides in response

The sadness envelops my want to see your face in static image

Staring there in historic context and listed statistics

Knowing what little you wrote of you, there is possibility there

To fit in with the honest pursuits of my endeavors

But the bluntness of your wavering procrastinating correspondence contradicts

My benevolent assumptions of splendor

Pole Vaulting

Pole Vaulting

Trip lips on stilts falling down this avenue of spills

Elongated words that conjure up the will

To explain my refrains with as much contact as I am allowed

From this distance

So I will spit them out like a pole vaulter’s tool

To reach across this space of silence

And launch with indiscriminate optimism

That there will be a landing pad

Somewhere in your approximate vicinity

Fluffed up and rolled out while I am mid flight

As if the recognition of my potential

Could become solvent at the last minute

In the reaches of your desire

Moments from impact reconsideration

Not for my safety, but for your walls breached

An in this vulnerability you find your release

Not like the trip wire of an intruder prompting startling fear

But like a bird awaking from slumber

Thirsting for the morning’s dew to drink and satiate

That which had strewn spider webs across your nest

To spread her wings and recall a lost capability of soaring

Knowing the lengths of faith I have in you

You open up to me and in that I have a place to land

Thursday

Thursday

Wanting to reach out to say these words and carry through

With this unsettled rumble in my will

To have you change your actions into form of movement

To correlate with the pittance of acknowledgement I have received

Amongst the silence shrouding the fractured beliefs

That the ghosts even exist in this hallway for me to have missed

You for something, to have wanted that which may have been coming

In the spring time, of those lines converging

Into a conversation in a driveway writing down the pebbles from your pocket

You could share with me in all of their shine and grime

And hopeful times that this could move beyond a phone call

And fall into a puddle of Thursday night resting

And waking for you to revert the naming of me as blank

In the pages of all the pointless stages

Of getting to where you will be at thirty

Without acknowledging me there with these phrases

Pronounced and shed out and make shift on the pavement

Not knowing the snowing is coming and these shoes are useless

To move through the fluff and tall might as well stay here and stall

Never learning proper names or elementary information

Fill out some other form to turn in to an administrator

Of recollection and failing to bind these words to mention

That you and I shared this time never creating the sandwich

Of these remnants scattered in the ice box

Of these stories kept under combination lock

And I know I need to wait and have so quickly abandoned

The smidge of hope you rekindled in the middle of my

Trying to forget another rejection pilled on with the rest

So now you ask me to in part a piece of all this to start

See saw of a girl cleaning out my cubby hole

With the socks of my desperation falling on the floor

For you to see the holes, to see where I never go

Parched for a kindness to prove me wrong

Comets on the Plain

Comets on the Plain

Stash my desperation behind these contrary covers

Of hope and evidential matter to my character

To dissuade you from alleviating yourself of my commentary

From my inquiry and patient contemplation

Out here in time wishing that you would reapportion

Your allotments for allocating attention in my pool

Of collected contact not from some arm twisting

Battery of my collected verbs and adjectives

But from an internal choice patterned after a willingness

To believe in the possibility of the satellites of the universe

That I project in my spheres of thought approaching you like

Comets on the plains of these days that you would rather hold

Than let go of in the passages of what your life is becoming

Before you and with you a choice directed to the gravity of

A greater combination of two bodies transient and pulled

To balance in a proximity of reverberation

And in the seismic waves of that adjoining message

The fear in me of the absence of someone like you existing

Is eradicated in mass, obliterated into breadcrumbs

For a trail to a time of these mistakes that have led me to you

Cheshire Moon

Cheshire Moon

Thinking I could handle this wash-over glancing blow

Another push of tide across the sanded shore

Hope slips into the palm of the water’s grip

Pulling into clutch so much more than these days

Grin up at the moon and try to exhume

Demons right here on the beach

The cork on the wine bottle to hell

Unleash it here and now and allow me to dispel

Notions of civility and mental capacity

To comprehend the whys of these moments of pretend

When I try to ignore mathematical statistics of appearance

Of these absences pilling up like bullets in a chamber

Past in the barrel of those would-not-be strangers

If my vote had any relevant factor of ambition

To disregard this untimely mission of democracy

Flagged down on a road side, empty of gas

Praying on the kindness of passers by

For voyage to a place to refill my tank

Either in her carriage or into some other place

Where all these ignored thumbs in the air

Could some how amount to some stretch of settlement

These years out here on the road, when I only thought I had a home

Tear it all down

Laugh at this Cheshire moon grinning for a toy

My hopes tangled in this ball of string

Of only me and frayed memories

Rolling around for stagnant time’s plaything

This blow, this ignored form

I can not breathe another breath to adorn

The vestments of this man standing here with country plans

Of calling out in letters to the wind

Only to see hale falling from the sky

Nature revolting, not your time to be out

Side in this chance, better in empty hands

The Fish Tank in the Hospital Waiting Room

The Fish Tank in the Hospital Waiting Room

Minnow in the shark tank

Not even big enough to fathom the blink

To consume my little self

In this ocean of selves

Lost like a dot on the stitch

Of Waldo’s magazine shirt missed

Scanning for men in a fish tank of grins

Cupid is somewhere behind the lens

Taking pictures of prized couples and tends

To ignore the sense that the arrow

Was somehow backwards and bent

Stabbed with a fletching

Can I get it resent?

Quivering in this crowded hospital

So many physicians around, but no instruments

To observe the sounds inside my chest

Might as well go wait in the bay to collapse

This heart is broken and praying to stop

Ignoring the truth, that rejection is near absolute

Medicine I hide under the sink

With the chemical cleaners that warnings

Tell you not to drink

But the poison is in my veins

Lines I wish I had not read

Are piling up like traffic cars, jack-knifed

With crumpled wheels, rims rolling into truck beds

Of one half sides, slept in morning times

That take longer to wake because the day

Only has so many new words to say

Talking in boomerang to call it sane

Accidents on a highway just out of reach

Hoping to collide at least for the feeling of speech

Slipping in to ask if I was ok

Knowing tomorrow is another busted day

Exhausted and lost and these blind fish keep getting tossed

Back in the pool to re-circulate with the lost

Bumping in with their busted fins

Scales stripped never knowing how soon a bloody mouth

Could make this over with