A Fade-Away

I just can’t handle it anymore

This thin life in between vice and blight

That smell of acrid dust in my nostrils

The traffic stealing time slowly, inexorably

Many see straw strewn about the farm where they live

I’m no hay fever guy, I get the job done

But at what cost? Sickening to think about

Many wonder in time why why why

But is that the right question?

I’m indignant, sure, but helping hands and whatnot

From me to you

Mrs. Radioactive Wasteland, feed me your pig stomach

I’ve the gut of a lion, and the bones tattered in my bedroom

Let me know that yes, I have been to the plains

Doubt lust, sonder and disgust at the sight of the populace walking down my streets

Country lane, grab me by the nose and tug out the mucous

I’m inhibited, roll roll rolling downhill perpetually

Isn’t it fun? I’ve never been so happy in my life

The snowball will collide at the bottom of the infinite hill we find ourselves on

It just takes forever to get there

Don’t you know?

Stolid Love

Wicked science

The skin of the sun

Knows

You

Where slept

In window blinds

That mirror thin

Balding

Undercover

Fat

Gross dismissal

He balled on down the hill

Refused to believe his loan rejected

Tepid man, caught up in purgatory

Story story catch sunlight rays

Dawdle glorious days

Sting of love/loss

Insipid sex

Craving I don’t see up

Eyes but I don’t see up

Won’t cantor down

Trivial warm placidity

Fish on the table still alive

Bill/ticket to a turnstile

Down stairs and on new steroids

Creme burning

Heat my home

Instill vigor spice

Set up, nationality

Crude misgivings

Stupor coming over cars covering the land

This Time Around, the Skin Isn’t Mine and the Intruders Know Where the Mines Will Lead

Won’t cover you

Come back, combine, dance on my grave

Filth slithers throat slippery slope

Uphill again this this cadence worries me

Grand delusions I’m in

Woke up the same

Ever stalling my dreams won’t

Filth Stalin baby in a crib

Die baby, die baby young

Courage soft

Inner meandering

“Follow the trail”

Rabbit deluded bathes me and sucks on my dick

Inhibited rubble covering slices fecal television sets

Contagious memories

You’ve caught them

Pandemic pandemonium slotted perfectly for a truffle of mail

My armor’s thickly cracked

Laughter, shit, go eat up a grave digger’s spade

Fish won’t play with crabs

Heroes let go

Nibble fist til skin erodes

Bombast uproar style

Inside rumors cascade for delta epsilon schism

I’m the runner, the champ, on fire fire

Won’t survive, skin

Eaten by infection

Stars collide and death again

Dancing Free

Am I

On the floor again?

Sinking in the flood?

Rain shits on my face

I’m so cool

Oh dad, yell at me some more

Go cut a baseball in half with a butcher knife

Skin that cool cat at the club

Savor the remedy

I’m interested

Say you more?

Nay, worry worry worry street

Incandescent fluidity of thinking too hard

Like the elephants and their dead young

Morning comes

Sad story, bitch, but hit me again

And the bills come down

The parks and recreation district won’t be happy about this one

Time in time in a spiral so locked the forceps and crowbar can’t crack it

In, in, in

No relation

Out

Hate, but forget about it

Bitch, this sad thing, it is the bitch

I’m all erased and stuff

All crap all crap in this scene is dust

I inhale the library fumes and have lucid dreams of nother world

So slap me!

I’m in the midst of the murderers

Don’t say they haven’t rubbed off on me

Nature doesn’t play dice

Just genotype them and lock up the loafers

All soft, grand nuance in sternum ocular victual

Painting says to me, “Forget about her feet, breasts, and hair”

Didactic aggression

Silent dissidence

Due time, overworked overloaded dancing

Free

Forget It

Unspeakable impersonalities

Cadet of Renoir, in my bed, in my head

Go off try to roll around the cliff

Settle down, have a cup, sip coolly

No later notice, just eviction and a needle

Not found, a bit of once forgotten love

It is the same as it ever was

Sight in line with the crosshairs

City skylines and central park

Shade under a tree

No found words, just borrowed bills

A few grains of salt for luck

All memory replete with erasure

I’m in my zone, this time around

This time I’m in my prison

God home and a good spoon

Grow, growing taller

They stand up now

All in good time, curfew and propaganda

Hysteriea of the nation, thought

Carve up a new one, throw it in the sink

Perhaps a touch of death, nature

Strewn about the coaster, I’d rather have

Lost and gone to hell than hanged around this

Place.

Who Am I to Let Go?

Who am I to decide what’s best?

I can’t but hope for there to be less

When one lets go the chain is dropped

No reason to stop, to let go of the cops

I’m in my mind and outside the grass grows

I’m tall and strong, what else does onto the window blow?

Maybe someday we can see each other in clear light

But for now, I suffer and you suffer this blight

All cradled in glory, the humans won’t let it go

But I just want to, in this point, blow

Off my heart, with calibre of steel and loss

Better off with a winning smile, boss

Don’t fucking wait for me next time

It is an expensive dime

In due time we’ll all see

This is a mess, a ridiculous decree

Don’t let go of dreams

Even if they lead you to the seems

Of your greatest nightmares

You decide if you’re really there

Grow

We just can’t stay

Like this

Anymore

I give up my hope

To you

Please, take care of it

For me

It will grow from a seed to a beautiful

Massive evergreen

Or a flower

Notes on beauty

Notes on

Notes off…

No disparities in the ritual

That’s the horrifying part

How the same it always was

I think I’m done now

All that’s left is horror stories

I’m lost but found in your heart

All I need

All I need

Turn away from the headlights

Make face on another sun

Cradle your dead eyes in your heart

See through the wall

Catch the wind

From swamp in middle of forest to

Free new found desire and grace

Catch the glimpse of that star

From darkness to

Illumination, of mind and eye

Turn away from the headlights

See through the skein

In my reality

There is no death, no taxes

Just the notion that someone might be spying

On your success

And loving you so hard

That you’ll never know

This Way That Way, All Together… Right?

Burn it

Burn it to the core and see inside

Inside yourself, for once, inside others and inside the world

The beauty of a timeless treasure once lost, regained

To imagine the bounty of life in all its splendour

I lie, in my inner being, on somber moment for spell of thirst

To drink the blood of deer and cat and grant

Grant my memory to them, for they are death and reincarnation

No somnolence in study or loss of memory

But wonder and tawdry nuance

Still, complete as a picture is want to be, so as it is said

We all see, this photo of the mind in the space surrounding

To see too little, so little, but the raw grains of truth, love, and beauty

The rice splits, the pot boils over

The time is come to dance like an angel

To feel the royalty of denouncement

And the hilarity of it all

Laugh! Laugh! Laugh at your enemies

For they are the funniest people you will ever meet

And see what joy they bring you with their anger

It is still, in the underground

It is still, in the pool of memory and time

So one more time:

Tell me, where do you live?

On the Second Floor [working title]

I live on the second floor

Where we share air, our doors open

In levity as in grace, I stick my thumb in the soil and think:

Empty sonnets make for empty vases, too still and somber or somnolent

To make streets abide by due ritual, all discounted or continued short

Maybe a little later on, we can climb the stalk and see in clouded arena

A space for further study, a lithe crumpet of syncytial influenza vaccine remedies

Up all in my grill too further wallowing, all up in

My cadenza, Mrs. Fluff-and-Iron, way, came down in dew strewn mist mustache

Asking questions and baking away for a farthing too, in all abundance

Nine, six, a mason, in rhythm striatum in my cough, in my manner, in my thought

For other hopes or reason by which to abide, by which to sell, short, or in other terms:

To know not, for all announcement-side, that which is played in camel’s nicotine lozenge

In city-state in numerous ways

In conundrum of decay or, altogether, a withdrawal like the times

Simply rhymes

Simply rhymes

Pitty Missing Frames [working title]

I am

Perfectly imbalanced

When I don’t know what to do

In between thoughts

In between frames

The camera loads

Rewinds

Shuttles to the studio

My vision is to see

I see no panic

I see no fluster

Just the weight of a large world

Sitting on my shoulders

Ah well, so a one as you/me knows how to

How to stand

Tall or…

In between

When writhing

There gently

On your bed

In your studio