if i were a killer

i’d never let you know.
i’d look you in the eye
and laugh at all your jokes,
while disarming all your fears.

i’d stand up straight.
i’d dress just right,
and always tuck in my shirt,
while never forgeting my belt.

i’d hold a respectable job.
i’d talk about it all the time,
and rub elbows with the elite,
while winning over your mom.

i’d be everything you wanted.
i’d be everything you needed,
and when you least expected,
i’d gladly slit your throat.

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the garden

regularly spaced
and free of weeds;
full of potential,
full of hope;
but potential has been squandered,
and hope has been crushed;
so what will it be this time?
what will you be this time?
and what will i?

and he grew

and grew
until he was unrecognizable,
and even more so to himself,
doing things never before conceived
just six months before,
becoming something new
with every passing day,
unsure of what he would be;
surprisingly unconcerned.

Battlestar

running into friends,
or something like that,
who have not been seen
for at least two years,
and yet there is a connection;
and yet there is a collection;
of shared feelingshopesdreamsloves
that is not easily lost,
even by the passing of time;
even by the passing.

SO ANGRY

breathe in.
breathe out.
but it’s still the same.
repeat:
in…….
out……
now shut the eyes
and plug the headphones,
while dialing up some mates.
and maybe things will be better
by the song’s end…

like a bad grape

you are slightly deformed
and while I consider eating you,
the thought of your strange projection,
bursting in my mouth,
is slightly sickening;
and though I know that in a dark room
i would never notice,
in the light, i just can’t do it.

so i will zip you up,
and lock you away from the outer air;
then i will forget you;
and in a few weeks, purely by accident,
perhaps i will find you,
and perhaps I will marvel,
and perhaps my curiosity will lead me
to take a long overdue bite.

“what will it take”?

looking up,
that’s all there was;
and as the question hung,
what answer could there be?

and that’s when we turned,
and walked away.
never looking back.
never holding on.
never regretting.

SHAKE IT OFF

i’ve got to shake this feeling
but it won’t be shaken,
sneaking up again,
catching me at unawares,
just when I look away

THERE IT IS

laughing,
grinning,
feeding;

NOW IT’S HERE

IT’S ON MY BACK

clawing my shoulders,
scrabbling to hold on,
slowly burrowing;
forcing its head
into my head;
forcing my head
out of its head;
until soon,
all that I was
will be gone
and all that I will be
is parasitic.

day-time TV

watching train wrecks,
in two minute segments,
each piling up
behind the one before,
progressively blocking from mind
any hope that my train will arrive
safe, secure, and on time.

stagnation: damnation

it’s been a while,
and i have whiled
sweet time away
with little to say
for three months;
six months.
nine months;
twelve months:
that makes a year,
and that is a dear
thing to waste,
in want of haste,
with lack of foresight,
and too much hindsight.

the wind-down

despite the loaded bases,
i’ll throw one more,
checking the first
and the second,
finally the third,
hoping to close it out
and get the save,
but this is the end,
no matter what happens,
and in that freedom,
i’ll wind myself up,
hoping to not let you down.

what happens when i watch scott pilgrim…

let me first preface,
with an acknowledgment
of the total geek out,
shortly to follow,
but sometimes it’s necessary
to hear the songs of zelda
playing in one’s head,
as strength develops,
to the sound of my hearts,
and i’ll face another boss
and shoot my master sword,
then round out the game
by saving my lady’s day,
sending ganon back
to the dark world from which he came,
all metaphorically of course.

October is over

and once again I’m alive,
seeing the waning light
at the end of the fall;
gaining strength
from rotting leaves,
dying grass,
general decay;
hoping that i’ll survive
while watching everything else die.

Improv

Free-styling,
Free-wheeling,
spilling out impromptu thoughts
that somehow fit,
that somehow hint
at an intelligence greater
or a greater intelligence,
whichever the case may be
in which the mystery
is somehow solved
of how to not make an ass,
whilst standing on stage.

road trip

We returned together
after leaving alone,
glad and and content
to have found each other
somewhere along the way,
passing through who we were,
glimpsing in the distance who we could be,
hoping to remember how to get there.

Storm Chasing

We thought we’d outrun the storm
only to find it waiting,
three hundred miles and three states
down the road,
with three hundred miles
of pent up fury,
and three hundred miles
of pent up rage,
ready and waiting
to beat and to batter,
to blind and to bruise,
to force us from our course,
to keep us from making it home.