things are working like machines
inside my head these days
they come and finish and go
money is made and money is spent
by whoever is running them
and yeah i feel well so what
and yeah the days pass so what
by standing i am running
away from the future

somewhere i am happy.

I feel I should be forceful
as the matter is quite pressing
so just shut your mouth for
one damn second,
and things may be alright.

But these
mountains out of molehills
Have surpassed the point ‘depressing’
and I don’t see why
you do this to yourself
most every night.

I’ve said it
over and over
and over again.
But I’ll
say it one
more time,
for good
measure:

Don’t.
Fuck.
With.
Me.

what is this, the price we pay?
to wander through this wandering spot?
and to our every whim we play
and hope that we will not get caught.
But alas! I feel it’s all for naught:

there’s sirens on the way.

to purposely seek rejection,
as I am now,
must be the mark
of positively,
incorrigible,
mental illness,
worse even
than asking out
the most popular
girl in school.

The sun’s been out all
day today and the
wind is blowing cool but
it’s hard to care about
wind through a pane
glass window so
I’ll lean back and
watch someone watch
the Television and
make some light
conversation before
I reluctantly pass
out in someone
else’s armchair
only to be wakened
by the ringing of the
cell phone that I
never wanted on in
the first place.

Not that I meant
to take the nap,
but it was a damn
fine nap.

“Hello?”

don’t you see that i got i
don’t you see that i rock it
for fuck sakes i can’t stop it
i’m riding the top of a rocket
i fit these things into sockets
should i drop it?
or put the world in my pocket
should i shut
the door should i
open the window
should i jump out?
should i go outside
in my mind
or in time
wake up the piggies
and shout?
remember that time you
yelled at me but
you didn’t know a damn
thing and remember that
time i wish i were
someone else?
remember when we thought
god was gonna save us?

who cares about the insanity that
why would you turn on your tv?
when i am alone
and sober
none of my books have last
chapters
none of my maps have destinations
so devoid of the human condition
there are billions of us
and i am a poet
but there are billions of us
so it makes it hard for me
to say anything
because there are billions of us
separate worlds on the same earth

like a sieve blog about poetry
for which apparently very few people
care despite its impressive 1,129 posts
in under a year.

All respect to the man who
calls a quarter tank of gas
a twenty dollar bill
a travel-sized tool box
a length of rope
and an acoustic guitar
‘Being Prepared for Anything’

like a child in his new tree house
the sun refuses to come out
returning home only to wash its
hands before returning to whence
it came

leaving all those who enjoy its
presence

longing for better days

As I sit in my car seat
screaming
at the top of my saxophone’s
lungs and I
hope that I
catch the ear of
someone
wandering by,

nobody cares enough
to even call
the cops, at 10pm
on a school night.
So I sit in my car seat
and scream
at the top of my saxophone’s lungs

my little friend and i
we don’t get along
these days
and if it doesn’t work
we’ll go back to our
throne
and i see the world
and it is shrinking
every day
but still too far
across for me to
roam

Steady with that light!
we have to check that he’s receptive
can he hear us?
can you hear us?
can you see us?
are you there?

Pulse is normal, steady breathing
but I don’t think that he’s seeing
any of us, and if
this weather holds –
these heavy snows –
then I suppose
that this could be a problem.

looking back, fifty years out
inept professors will make
their names off our angst.

I don’t want
to be poor;
I don’t want
to be rich;

I don’t want
to be bored;
I don’t want
to be boring;

I don’t want
to be listless;
I don’t want
to be committed;

I don’t want
to be responsible;
I don’t want
to be useless;

I don’t want
to be my father;
I don’t want
to be alone;

But all of this exact knowledge
as to what I do not want
is in no sense equal
to having the faintest idea
as to what I do want
or who I want to be.