as a child learns for the first time to
lick his fingers and pinch the candle
wick, he cant stop it’s so amusing,

you’ve stifled my excitement

i enter each room in this house
and over the course of perhaps a month
i spend what it takes to claw at the barren
walls and i claw scratch until my fingers
ache, my nails scrape free and i burn
art into these walls often so ugly
it falls short of poetic but the artistry
is still there

feeling sick of hope i move across the
hall and claw at pride only to find
my fingers can take no more and the
walls are nearly crimson instead of white

the art has passed from room to room
for these five months and i’m beginning to wonder
if there are any empty spaces on walls
in rooms i’ve already visited or

if there are any rooms i’ve yet to step into
perhaps another den, another kitchen,
i’d kill for living room to bleed on for a while

i’m afraid most of the restrooms are now free
of dry wall and standing mere skeletons of
wood and electrical wire

leaking out with bars through the neck
so strong… in stench as though sewn
together from other dead entities
clearing the room with its horrifying
scream

my pride in my creation

Prop open your
favorite pair of
tired, drooping
eyelids and
hope you won’t
need to let them
rest at all
too soon.

There’s been a lot of
talk that there’s been
trouble at the mill
and you can bet
it’s all your problem
so enjoy your last
sit-still.

drove to the sea
to sit by the beach
but i broke before
i could brake
wound up in a place
that once was a lake
more than i could take
gave in, became a fake
making mud castles
in the gloom.

Dystopian.

This whole class-action, happy-go-lucky, run-of-the-mill, sweet-and-sour, give-and-take potluck of a pow-wow of a conflagration that we have here is simply

Dystopian.

So You’ll sit down and stumble through
the constant metere of your inner urge
and hope to all the Gods you choose
your soul won’t leave you now

But you’ll fire on the pragmatists
who say what you do ‘can’t be done’
attempting to drive home your point
and ever won’dring how

these things have grown so damn complicated
you want to sit and rest
and forego this last fucking test,
But alas, you took a vow

So Just sit and pray
and rue your day:
Your Gods won’t save you now

I really don’t know
what’s going on here
but,

I think I’m
okay with it.

Just don’t let me catch you throwing rocks at the windows again.

Sometimes,
it’s
just
some
dumb
shit

that ruins
everything
for Everybody.

But life goes on
Supposedly.

wind doth fill the sails of
sand blown dust made crop
circles in your hair to match
cyclical patters in your emotion

And he was lurking around every corner
that bastard cop that has it in for me
But he never seems to pull me over
just smiles and waves as I cruse by
at a steady 83

I’ve burned a lot of gasoline
hoping to avoid the man
but all in all he doesn’t seem
to give a good god damn

So I wonder if I’m running
from a self-conceived behavior
or if he really is gunning for me:
just too busy reading the paper.