It’s raining.

four-thousand dollars worth
of expensive electronic equipment
to be moved from one building to
another with a car that
doesn’t have the best weather-
stripping in the world
and it’s raining.

and light of heart and head
sugar slowing slowing my heart
to near dead stop
as my thoughts so weightless
lift towards heaven
calling sour candy refined sugar
precious chocolate dear pixie sticks
doctor after doctor claiming
diagnosis after reason after diagnosis
failing to prove the
truth

There’s a brown paper bag-full
of empty cans and I
never quite know what to do with them.

They’re worth some money,
I’ve been told,
but I often wonder if all
that money is really worth
the effort.

There’s a brown paper bag-full
of empty cans. Know anyone
who knows what to do with them?

He’s never exactly sure why he
always forgets to check when he
starts to change lanes on the
highway

He hopes it won’t end with a
fiery explosion and a
lot of pointless casualties
but still, he leaves the driveway.

a man of fancy tastes,
relishing the sugary sweet
cream filled goodness
that comes with the territory
of being fancy.

And even behind the barricade of
a double-paned glass window, you can
still hear the wind blow down
the half-deserted midnight streets.

And you remember the cut and sting,
the twanging bite of ice-cold air
seemingly pushing itself
straight through you.

And it makes you wonder
why the other half never deserted
in the first place.

And it makes me wish
you could remember why we
only ever wanted to be
stuck out there
forever.

my pen can trace itself
these white lines symbolize
empty
what should you do with
your eyes?
who killed surprise?
this, our world, is like
a rock in itself
mid-flight
must you be taught
what’s a lie?
or sink till you
drown till you die.
(but, for a moment
i wish i could walk through
walls like a ghost
just to get what i’m
here for and leave.)

when all of our guesses
have turned out wrong
and all of our efforts
have produced nothing
but dead ends
and dark alleys
where our fears surface
and try to consume us,
whole or in part;

it doesn’t matter
when both are the same
in the end.

i am a stone
with the heart
of a bird.

Raise thy hackles up and hiss!
We’d never dreamed it’d come to this!

They’ve got us they’ve got us they’ve
got us they’ve got us they’ve
got a lot of gall, trying to
get us here.

I don’t know what they think we are
but we won’t be so soon to fold
so if you see them wandering
raise your hackles up and hiss

And kill them.

for so long you overflowed
with hope for the future
and assurance that things
would only get better;

i thought your optimism was bad,
hating your assurance
that this was the bottom,
and pushing for you to realize
that the good days were gone;

but then i heard your despair
and realized that was worse,
seeing your will to fight
dry up in your loss of hope
as all the cares
and all the problems
descended upon your back,
blackening out your son
along with your hope,
leaving only the black hole
of despair.