of a thing i’ve labored over for a long time now
and while it’s not yet a reality—the reality of it is sinking in
the foolishness of what got us here
the failures and the lack of sleep

we’ve built a thing of which we’re damn proud
and it will be time to lay it down and walk away
and we thought it was years in the future
and now it’s increasingly clear that it might be weeks

the failures and the lack of sleep and
the foolishness of what got here are
never far from my mind

sleep will come though, i say with some confidence
because long before the thing itself ended
resignation came.

i noticed in
the back seat of your car
that you do not breath
but beg for life

sucking in and
pushing out

and i am a minute counter

it is for common courtesy
that i waste this time with you

s
o

how many notes
am i to play
in your silent
composition,
susan?

for what should i solve
in your bad math
equation?

i frantically try
at the right words to keep yours
from coming

but our energies repel

and i like it that way.

a poem is all i can manage
the morning fog denies me anything more
as it grows thicker in my head

a big step up comes with a massive serving of humble pie
and this time it’s mixed with pecans and sweet potatoes
so i’m probably not going to be able to avoid binging on it

there is a way i feel about
things i cannot control and
when i put my arm out
hoping to stop what’s in motion i
find seatbelts were created for a
reason and reason is usually in
the way of doing what’s actually
good

so i wake up again and head back in, stuffed full of pie
and carrying along my now worthless broken arm in a
sling across my front trying to look professional

professional: a difficult look for someone who has learned
to live contorted in to a pretzel with foot firmly stuck in
mouth.

professional: a difficult look for someone who has learned
that fighting overconsumption of self-induced humility is a
lost cause i’ll never win.

professional: a difficult look for someone who never wears socks
and finds the thought of underwear overwhelming.

but this is a big step up. a big step up they tell me. for reasons.

she’s real sweet
he says
crying outside of my door all night, too
i hope you can
find a good place for her

and just like that ~

a bus ticket
a backpack

he says he only eats vegetables
right after purchase
and runs everywhere
now

and
there are ghosts all around him

working for food
trim plant
cut weed

make nice with zombies
as
the ghosts just grow
and grow

while endurance starts to fail
the drugs and money
come back

like cancer in the
lymph-nodes

a rush of euphoria
a gasp for air

let the beat ride out
because it’s feeling tight
leave your stupid fucking
artist persona at the door
the vampires can’t get us if
we’re in the woods dancing
let’s all become one
and kill our grandfathers
they can’t fool an athiest
a post-modern punk fuck up
let’s end the song here
before we get off track
and they gun us down in daylight
or we lose our faith