Left my
briefcase
at home
last night
now I
just can’t
re mem
ber what
I was
trying
to fin
ish to
day so
I will
have to
start all
over.

Fuck.

I’m not sick,
and yet i’m home
as my class begins
in exactly 1 minute,
and while i sit,
distracting myself,
it still does not work
becasue in the back
of my mind all i can do
is think about the mountain
of papers, of work
sitting just to my left
beckoning to me
calling to me
convincing me to work,
despite my laziest misgivings.

you take things so dirty
and word them so beautiful
you cause me to
desire to speak the things
i despise the most

and then back them up with
czech etymologies

why do i write these things down?
they remain on a page
they do not grow to
godzilla like proportions
do i think that they will move?
you
or
the world?
much less even a leaf
much less even myself
often times
they lean
towards the garbage
my invisible pen pal
putting a weapon
in his mouth.

No-one ever
went to bed angry
with a new free car.
But no one ever
woke up happy with
a sore neck.

How quickly
things can change.

for the words i wrote last night
and published into the neversphere
i forget what you said
but your brilliance will live in
the foreversphere

maybe i let the
grass grow around me
say i call the world
the moon
suppose i find nirvana
in the sky caught
by my unfocused eyes
and say i do it
soon

if only it had never happened
i could go on in peace,
but i one upped you,
embarrassed you,
showed you up,
and though i should exult
in my intellectual victory,
all i’m left with is fear
that i will pay for this,
one day soon.

i am enamored by the beauty of
the birds singing through
the streets, my eyes glued,
sun whirling through the
windows growing trees
hidden beneath the carpet —
then i go back to my apartment,
after the world,
which is rotating and i
must jump in because
me and
you
we must have the world spinning
behind us
that is how we work
so our world is on a
spinning pedestal
and
i’m convinced
that
it’s all my fault
that i am dizzy.

I’ve become quite accustomed to
your certain brand of rhetoric,
and though lunacy is in my blood
I’m certainly no lunatic

so shout another awkward joke
and make the comp’ny cringe
they’re all far to prim and proper
to be wand’ring on our fringe

we’ll scare them all away from here
so they can find their own damn henge.

the day defeated me
drenched in rain
that drifted in mists
strangled by
leafless branches aching to
bloom suffocated with
a sky as gray as dusty bones.

i give up

just let me have tomorrow.

on flight through a campus on two legs
old trees seem newer than beer kegs
we stop to walk slow
on ground they dont mow
“graduate” me to God begs

You may hate it when the
rain makes mud of the
driveway, and soaks your
brand new shoes, and
gets your hair all
messed about.

But no matter where
you find yourself in
this world or any
other,
it’s going to rain
sometimes.

So deal with it.

We would
laugh about certain
points, and
take away a
certain heavy meaning
from a very heavy
thing.

We would neuter
the worst, so
it wasn’t so bad
anymore.

At least,
that’s what
we hope
is going to
happen.

eight months,
one band,
two jobs,
and a trailer-load
later,
they’re home.