It’s such a strange
feeling
when you suddenly
realize
that you might be
in it deep
and you
might be really stuck
this time.

At least
there’s all this
Company
down here.

We’ll be just fine.

Sunshine envelops
but for one last time today;
the night is coming.

…And away from home we stray
’till at last we find an old, quaint place
to gather near, and all but pray.
To garner our good graces
in between us, all together
and truly decide, one and all
to wait out foul weather
rather than attempt to sally forth
in to certain disaster.

Rain comes from the east
the tents are staked solidly
We will sleep in peace.

We cause
quite the confluence,
you and I.

I swear I’ll probably
miss you. I think I
might already.

Sustaining life
for extended periods
is much more difficult
when currency
is entered
as a variable
in to the scenario.

If I could, I would
live in the forest.
If I could, I would
sleep under the
stars, every night.

But, alas, I can just
afford the thick wool blankets,
and I surely can’t
begin to rent
a campground lot.

To write
I mean
to really write
again
or
at all
is
mmm…

I sat in front of a
mostly-empty notebook
and a pen
for twenty minutes

But
to write
again
I mean
to really
Write
is
just
so
mmm…

I demand
Inspiration
not
explanations as to
why you can’t deliver
and no,
I don’t
understand Chinese.

So
just
read it to me slowly
because even if I could,
we all know I
can’t decipher
your fine print.

…But Goodness knows I’ve tried

We settled
near each-other
on the floor
– it was the best place –
near the door
in to the next room
that we hardly used at all

And we squeezed
of one another
and we laughed
and fought and kissed
until we nearly
fell asleep where
one ought not

And she smiled and
bit her lip
while we drove
all the way crosstown
to where she stayed
on weekdays

and what it was
I can not fathom

The water seeped through the
top of his shoe, but
the slight wet did not
phase him, as he
strode so purposefully
towards the door.

He loved to have his
key to this, his
home and haven,
just the place to
hide away from
rain.

The lock unset, the
door swung wide, he
stepped inside, and
just as he would wipe
his head, a bolt of
lightening struck him dead.

Coincidentally, we
haven’t got a clue
what to do, but
we’ll do it. Or at least
try to get through this
fucked up bit.

Demonstrably, they
tear our side to pieces
caring less and less for
facts and more and more
for deeper and deeper
cuts in to our
collective consciousness
and,
possibly,
(and perhaps cliche’)
our collective soul.

But
I
Don’t
Want
To
Let
You
Pro
Tect
Me
From
My
Self.

And Anyway,
how do you know
what’s best for me
any god damned way?

I refuse on all counts
to bill myself as
anything but
lighthearted.

I have not a grudging
bone in my whole
body.
Now come here, so I can
kick your a- er,
Show you.

…Who has never been the
low man on the totem
who has never even deigned to see
these parts of space beholden
Who has whistled somewhat wearily
in work, in study, in play
who has tried to fulfill, jokingly,
his stature, come what may.

Who, perhaps, will finally put an end
to reckless, tired thought
who, perhaps, will end this existence
and build one that he wants
Who perhaps, and most importantly
will take back what he’s bought
and replace his standard typefaces
with much more awesome fonts

I swear that all my stories
are
good traveling stories
or
stories where I traveled
and
got too far for my own good.

I’m sorry I tell stories
where
the focal point is simply
that
we’re almost out gas this time
and
there’s still ten miles back
to
the nearest filling station.

But I think we’ll make it.

Brave, Hopeful, or Retarded,
I think we’ll make it.

Someone save me
I’ve lost my mind
or that’s the story
anyway.

Mud on my shoes
‘where have you been?’
mud on my shoes
‘Don’t track that shit through
here!’

the stains are grass stains,
the bruises only temporary.
The stains are grass stains
but they may not quite come
out.

But please,
hit me again.

If we could bottle Dragon’s Breath
for wholesale, we could make a fortune.

And it wouldn’t matter what it does. Engine
Degreaser, furniture polish,
rat poison or napalm. It
would sell.

It would cure diseases, according
to the label. Swine flu, Bird
flu, Shingles, The Shakes, and
everything else we’ve got to
fear from the great wide world.

It would nourish and sate even
the mightiest of hungers or
the fastest of metabolisms. It would
keep us clean and anything but
Visceral. And By God, I’m sure

it’d do whatever is the opposite
of killing us all.

Now, the only trick
is bottling something
that doesn’t quite exist.

and in those deep, dark advancements of time
we all tend to scream out that none
of us has done anything wrong.

The car won’t start. Nobody did anything
to it, but the car won’t start. Nevermind
the sand in the gas tank. The car wont’ start.
And nobody did anything to it.

It’s raining
so I pitched my tent
but all my stuff is
soaking wet.

well I suppose that’s
what I get
for doing too little
too late.

I thought of something
witty that I’d try
to scratch down with
my pen but that
device is now
devoid of all the
stuff it used to give
so willingly.

All I needed was
but a few small
drops.

All I got was a
curly-cue in the corner
and a broken pen
cartridge on my
carpeted floor.

The ink, of course,
went everywhere

Thought I’d
try something different.
Well, not so different, so
much as classic. Well, not
so much classic, as just
old hat.

Get in to it.
Live it.
Breathe it.
Be it.

If you’re not panting
you’re doing it wrong.

Shh…
I think the Ford’s on fire
parked out on the open field
behind the Jones’ house.

Let’s watch and hope that it explodes
just like our favorite T.V. Shows
but no-one will get hurt,
that’s how it works.
Or at least, so I was told…

Darkness
as best defined by someone who has never experienced true darkness,
is never quite as
bleak
as it ought to be.

Darkness as witnessed first-hand
is
terrifying.
Why, I shudder to think
what some may do when
faced
with it.