it hurts me
and its killing you lightly
to fight a white dove with fright
so lets freak out tonight
and fake true love

and follow fall leaves
       -wallow in trees and free our memories there
but theives,
their cherries are too sour to swallow
and they have no berries to bare

so keep chasing your seminary fairies
spend days in faded prayers and fool cemeteries
and I'll drown the pool with drops of our dreams
and dim the light

as fire fights the night with steam

Paper-cut in a World of Wounds

never thought i'd say it
but i
heard you on the radio today
saying naughty things about the way
we stayed together
and never strayed
well now its all gray and faded
and every inch i took away
is just another thing you traded

so say kind words of me to who you thought our kids could be
and tell them how we dropped the ball
and the hope we had
if any at all

Formaldehyde

all your burdens under lock and key
reach the branch under the branch under me
to catch the catcher in the rye
his glowing eyes swallow butterflies-

    -who flew a shot in the shallow vein
but the bloodstain clotted
a formaldehyde shot in the brain
nothing else gets the fresh-air flooded

SeQuela

Dirty clothes, dishes, empty beer bottles, pills, torn pages from notebooks and scattered half-read books lay butterflied with arched bindings; the front and back covers fall and curve upwards to imitate the shape of a W.

               Sometimes I wonder how I can live in such filth, disgusting trash ridden atmosphere, sometimes there’s even a smell. But then I look at those empty bottles, those torn pages and books and see good people. Books can be too much like people, it scares me. Looking one right in the face, right through the eyes. Its like a staring contest for hours, relentlessly decoding wrinkles on skin, words on a page, a voice. Maybe books are like people, and maybe that’s why so many of mine are unfinished. I’m afraid they will hurt me too....

Happy Birthday

Belated New Years resolution in light of my recent plunge into the current legal drinking age: get blackout drunk at Chuck E Cheese and scream at families, inadvertanly spitting and spilling beer everywhere. Preferebly using enough blasphemy to put Satan into a coma.

As time drifts along carelessly and indifferent, without dying, and the world gets older, and you get older, and your friends and family get older and closer to death, you start to see signs and realize some things. Call these signs from God or spirits or whatever you want, but above all call them signs of life: Mom or Dad contracts a fatal illnes, the Pope gets the new iphone, or you see someone you used to know (and hate) and they're doing better than you, take it as a sign. Your Mom and Dad won't be around forever, the Pope (and coincidentally, religion as a whole) is completely insane, and instead of focusing on what other people are doing, focus on yourself.

By the way, isn't it funny how these things come to you while you're taking a bath?  Excuse me while I get this really hard-to-reach spot on my back....

Blunt-force trauma to the ego

          Things that went through my head yesterday -besides my steering wheel: maybe now I should appreciate the smaller things in life like automobility, being comfortably far away from the emergency room and having all my blood on the inside -where its supposed to be. Also, blacking out while driving a car just bumped up to #1 on my least favorite thing to do in my spare time list.