my tombstone should include “wide-eyed” on it somewhere


i am wide eyed and high floating
above rivers of happy
philistines and i find that
everything is funny because
it’s all so very grave.
waves of irony end their journey
from: our massive sun-god
to: my face and
amplify my smile;
coloring all things in their
deep, deep comedy.

i smile and graze over the
earth with my eyes lightly
so as to not break a thing.

“humans are bad balloons”
i think and
look down
as i deflate
the crumbly breaky surface
giving way at the thought of
my come-down. sunshine
turning into heat
bird chirps
turning into traffic
all things blackening and
crumbling as i come down.
i grab at the comedy but
cannot hold anything,
not even the air.

stick man


your the stick man and
they made a pencil outta you
woah your friends are all left
and your tryin’ to keep it right
they got a number for you
and you know it’s no. 2
you see the blue lines in the sky
nothin’ quite fits inside of them
you celebrate your loneliness with
nights by the sharpener
woah and you’ve got nothin’
nothin’ to write down.

indecision, perfection, treadmills


i just can’t make it
twiddling my thumbs all the day long
like a dopamine fiend
picking up boulders and putting them
back down like a modern day
sisyphus, or something.
doing and then
stopping again,
to start, one
last final time
(this time
i’ll make it
and i am going to rip these
cement feet right off if
i can’t go see the sunset

On: Mendelssohn Sinfonia No. 11


life at one’s leisure
is a solitary achievement
a lonely achievement
but one must sacrifice such
things for freedom
but one must sacrifice those
things in name of honor
and all the things accompanying
those company
those company
that drive you wild, wild
wild wild,
wild with anger and distain

but on this beautiful day
but on this beautiful evening
i will cut the strings that
bind my soul and keep me bonded
i will get to the bottom
bottom of this entire thing.