Love-acetone
the night sky wears
the layers of skin you sold for
a loaf of sympathy bread.
Hallelujah!
Grace is not welcome here
So long
So long friend
The river will not swallow your bitter tears
The ground will not touch your sullied bones
Farewell friend
Thank you for the smiles
Thank you for being the one
I shall spent my death with.
Go in peace
You’ll always be my bleeding star.
When you’ve idled for so long
It feels so good
to finally see your reflection
moving backwards.
It’s been dark
but sometimes you need darkness
It’s a place to hide from
something
Unless the dark
is what you’re really
afraid of
like they said it would be
weird
when all these dudes probably
should be wearing clothing
‘you’re proof weenies float’
oh the things brought on
by the flow of alcohol;
how interesting to sit back
to blend in, to soak it all in,
waiting for the moment
when the unsaid becomes said
and the secret so long kept
is spilled
splashing across everyone,
like a laxly held glass of wine;
it can not be taken back;
it can not become unsaid again,
leaving the only solace possible
that perhaps it won’t be remembered
come tomorrow
after the afterglow has worn off
and only the throbbing remains.
You know it’s
a good show when
you go out in the snow and
you trip and slip
and bite your lip
but hardly even feel it.
from the open mouth
of a green fire hydrant:
a frozen flow into the street.
“this is not all we are”
the familiar refrain rings;
“beyond the pale a new life awaits”
holds out hope for the hopeless,
but i find it harder these days
to look past the mere matter
and see what lies beyond
with my vision obscured
by beer/wine/whisky
and my desire hijacked
by greed/lust/pleasure;
so the beyond disappears
in its very invisibility,
and the present intrudes
by its extreme tangibility,
filling my senses to the max,
demanding my attention.
First times
razor blades
soft skin
loose red thread
overwhelming flow
white bathroom tiles
quiet fall
daisies bruising
at the edge of night
a neon sign
‘Merci d’avoir vécu’
waves crash near my
far to long removed shore
vacation under still black sky
She wasn’t the most beautiful thing too look at
but she could catch your eye
like a diamond speck floating in a snowdrift
on a frozen winter morning.
Her voice was not a singer’s voice
but it spoke so perfectly, so beautifully,
that a philistine such as I could
hardly comprehend her utterings.
But alas, her temerity opposed
my trepidation so extremely that I,
disheartened and forlorn, am left
on a frozen winter morning,
sifting through the snowbanks
for another diamond speck
Ah, to sing but a note
that I could play back again.
A tape to prove I sung it
A proof of lyrics past
Ah, to listen to my dying words
Forever.
i’m mad, baby
a scientist
i’m sick, man
watching the mice
chase after that
cheese you dig?
i lose my cool about it
these people are
like barbed wire
man i’m just all
caught up. with their
health foods and
terrorists and taking
all the man out of
men or taking all the
respect out of woman,
drives me in circles
like a cab in england,
baby. one never had
to try so hard to be
smooth.
stuck in the grind,
understand?
maybe it’s these formative
years or whatever,
living off of vicodin
and ms. jane.
Imagine a day spent
in pure, twisted agony
based completely on
perception.
Imagine the pain of
knives through hands when
there’s naught but a
sharpie drawing on knuckles
Imagine a flame burning
toes, burning tendons
when only a cat brushes
heavy on your feet
Imagine a morning
of crying for no one
when everyone’s out
in the living room, waiting
to say good morning to you.
Why do you torture yourself so?
Why do you always imagine?
inexplicably there are
days when an inextricable sadness
overwhelms me like an understated
undertow and i’m swept out to sea for days
despite your best efforts the lifelines you throw
are sometimes just too short but please know that
there are somethings one just has to do alone, like
drown.
In with the old
and out with the new
I’m looking forward to
trying something crude,
trying something old
that’s never been tried before;
perhaps for this year,
the thing to do
will be to resolve
to not do anything new,
to hold on to the things of yore
not caring if they are a bore.
No rest for the righteous
as we defend our keep and country
while the Queen attempts to castle
even though that move is against the rules
and frankly, doesn’t make any
God
Damn
Sense
No rest for the righteous
while the meek jaywalk for miles
across country not familiar too them,
hoping that the cops don’t stop
poor men with torn shoes
but a penchant for outdoor dancing
No rest for the righteous
while the wicked never
seem to sleep
anyway.
No rest for the righteous
until they Clock
Out.
my heart is beating
sweeping arpeggios
like i was 16
and clowns are
rushing through my
limbs and brain
but i am wide awake
and aware that
four years difference
is sobering at best,
and behind the laughs
of the clowns there
are drunks and whores,
and behind the arpeggios
there are veins.
Walking through each other’s dreams,
The tattered streets will let you know I was there
first
No matter how hard he tries
He cannot see himself as real as you do you
You and your pure mornings
The heavens will not call out for you
Do you think crows dream about the color of their feathers ?
The immigrant’s dream sits on your front porch
hopeful
Your smile brings tidings of a victory
for a moment he feels like he can bask in the glow of
your sweet delusions
Like a sudden powerful jolt
he feels his youth
millions of little fireworks shooting through his veins
all his tomorrows pigmented with soft pastels
He would like to stay there with you
but, it is only a beautiful lie
Fie! Fie!
Unmask the short injustices you’ve come to find
Fie! Fie!
Show the world the lies that it has got behind!
Fie! Fie!
Fall with the house of Usher, Die with Mr. Poe
Fie!
Even if it changed anything,
we’d never know.
the sieve and the sand 
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