Inspiration is hiding under my bed and i’m too lazy to crouch down, i’ll breathe alone instead wishing someone could pull the cord and wind me up, hit record, tap into the bloody bath of botched images that i imagine when sinking into the nighttime session of pretending we’re dead waiting for the sun to silhouette my somber soul and at least double the meaning of what you glean when my eyes cross and i’m feeling mean pushing buttons and finding covers to throw over your uplifted soul. try to get up, i dare you. it’s the trance dance we found in france that couldn’t stand a chance when we latched in to this laced up boot parade will you come finally fade in letting down your guard, really sweetly, it’s not that hard to send a card and show you at least know i’m here without a listening ear to hit second gear and ride away without warning if that was the case if we left it up to us there would be no them and then i couldn’t contend with these emotions that are challenged with the light and dark and in-between path we embark will you stop crushing the sound of consciousness changing situations to set up the math of knowing we were never equal. 

justify anything

lies, lust, and onion rings 

listen to the human beings

murmur murmur murmur

rapid eye movements put me to sleep the connection to my other-side leap where haze and enemies become quite clear it’s the feeling of nothing that i can’t compare, obviously, it’s nothing 

next to the nodding that nightly makes you noxious buttering up bread hoping to unbox this tarantula patiently waiting and nimbly moving to strike at the right moment. 

i couldn’t hear her coming through the plasma sheath, wrapped in sleep waiting and wishing you’d come underneath to digest this wonder, an ache within it’s nothing i could compare to the one eyed sin of giving in to the ghost of systematic hosts when the lens i look through muddies with your view and it’s too late now to readjust they say it’s a beautiful pantone and you saw rust 

i lost your trust and can’t find the crust of your morning routine 

give me back my sanity, it’s three inches from the nightstand see a bedroom key with memories and you’re the one who walked out leaving me free, claiming it was the way i walk around at night trying to find reasons to stay looking at pictures the malady of memory when the days are tragedy clamoring for a sense of reality they all seem to have it. so, i let myself believe what you hold is not up your sleeve, but in your hand 

if not, i can find a reason why. 

It was saturday afternoon in the middle of march when she came across the street to let me know how good the strawberries were that i left on her doorstep eight months ago. we met in the produce section of kwik trip picking out bananas while the gas nozzle hung in my 88 accord. i have a hard time understanding the mound of yellow arches perfectly displayed no matter the month, i must have muttered so much under my breath, surprisingly through the potassium pile she chimed in about her affinity for berries, i shot back that the ‘straw variety’ were the best. she smiled.confused that she spoke, and, i’m pretty sure, to me, i found myself caught in a roundabout with no stated direction. i spun out without getting closer to grab a hotdog and confection. safe at the counter i looked over as she fumbled through an Orbitz box and said ‘see you around’. three days later she either considered me a creep or considerate. i left a note on top ‘enjoy’ with my initial. mysterious and weird but i hate being Mark. 

i wasn’t sure what brought her out that misty day to say with so much time in the way that i was ok. at least, that’s how i took it. ‘oh, glad you enjoyed them’. it’s all i could think of after a tunnel of two family member’s burials and a lost girlfriend filled the space between our fluorescent sheltered exchange.

she shrugged and turned ‘well, have a good day’ 

have a good day? 

the corner of her eyes is where surprise lies and tears wash by an eighth of an inch wide where fear resides the most haunting and beautiful space on her body framing without symmetry her sense that captures and filters images that swirl from childhood girl puking on the tilt-a-whirl to the thrill of torture tunnel antics with her first boyfriend i get lost in the erosion of skin, the folds from wind, a crease and bend that shows where you’ve been it’s that same shape where your lips meet as we greet on windy november days not waiting to clear the street sidewalks where we listened and i noticed your love glistened the folds of your nape my fingers finding familiar spaces as my mind races wondering if you can hear my apprehension i’m breathing too close where your lobe dangles forming another perfect triangle. i stop to gaze. stepping back. your nose crinkles. it’s the connection points of your familiar five that inspire me to stay alive. society tries to sell me where my eyes should stray it’s the tucked away places i can’t quite say that intrigue me to stay. i’ve seen your baby pictures. your beauty lives in the developed creases where…..

there may be another reason someone wants this information out there, something sinister, let’s run with it anyway

headline reads ‘he shot Gray’

same old reasons money and a female

i used to know him 

it’s awkward when he comes around 

trying to balance our friendship with what he may or may not have done

the see saw that rests with taking a gun and deciding for myself if he should stay 

i knew him better than this

slow churning breeze stumbles out of my mouth with no context, ideas based outside facts concepts that i create to fit this piece and seal his fate a plagiarized pony flipped out phony who’ll sit with others and eat bologna with wonder bread and miracle whip give me something i can dip into the silence started after he pulled the trigger making the scene of the other life bigger and who’d figure it’d be you and i siding to eliminate this waste of confiding with just a jar and twenty bucks we left that place to hide out in a space where race wasn’t the face we judged one another on the value was full priced no coupon to reduce me to something you want to see this wasted vastness cast to sea it was me the translucent colliding in you mixing this energy a meeting of you spiraling up and reaching out to know i’m not alone. 

i can be obnoxious

i don’t mean it

i’m sorry

it’s just

i walk abruptly into a situation no room for natural transition. i can’t think too much, that comes later. i burst in the scene people are reacting. i hit go mode and i’m not sure if i’m acting, or awkwardly stumbling to let me out as you watch and listen politely without doubt (i think), i hear a laugh my heart slows 

you’re still following my fast finger flows 

you hold my cup when i ask 

letting me somehow bask 

in this anxious moment task of what do i do. 

i keep doing and talking, finding not stalking. 

another head nod.

holy shit are people wishing i’d quit, is this not what we do here? 

who the fuck is defining this. give me a set of rules. oh god, i just commented on a little bit of drool that started to pool on an old mans stool my eyes dart. ugh. here i go again telling you about the death of someone else i know. i stop. ask a question. i tell myself, that’s right, ask them something. i wish i could get a beer. we know what that’d bring and i can’t afford those mirrors. somehow this reality mess i make in front of you is clearer. or it’s just me you have to accept without the constant debt of asking what i did that day or night and accepting this plight that i don’t know what is socially acceptable. people smile. i think i’m doing this? be honest, am i fucking weird. i was actually curious about the smell of your beard. do people watch this show gripped in fear? back to now, those last thoughts vibrate in me as i make the three foot stumble to another acknowledging face. that was a good one, right? you responded when i asked what you’re doing tonight and then i lost track and started speaking about my life at eight and the age of reason, was that six? my dad and Styx, it was my brother’s first concert you know, mine was lou reed. 
i couldn’t remember

if the age of reason is six

you were wondering where we left off after that last tangent, right? 

i scare people away talking about the feeling of paper bags and whether time really lags or do we consider where else we could be. do you guys talk about me? is this an abnormality. because when i leave the social situation i’m high and think i followed my intuition to bring people at ease. 

night comes 

before i fade 

i consider (over and over) if i offended you with the way i made it loud when someone laughed at this panic. i can’t go back. maybe it’s ok. there was a lot of smiling. i go back. until it stops. 

sickle cell insecurity there’s nothing left for you to see 

every image naturally displayed has been painted, written, or somehow conveyed. 
let’s climb inside the last twenty four hour slide rising to find that i can’t confide in anyone 

the torture thoughts alone 

it’s why i listen to music and moan 

to drowned out the hum of ‘i’m doing okay’ while ruminating on five minute chunks of my day i was getting water while mindlessly speaking did i leak that consideration that i might be peaking into painful exchanges the dark hallow spaces of passionate paces my mind races clinging to find phrases that won’t make you uncomfortable it’s not you i want, 

i already have 

nothing

it’s an agreement we made to always try because we share a similar, wrong, an opposite manner to reach the floor and suspend the door for kids no more are reading my heart in panic rhythms seeing the flesh it’s the frantic systems that left them alone in this room with me who trusts that i can help the plea-shout of ‘get out’ and leave before the clouds come to say that black is your enemy and fright is a trend in need of this thing that enters my thoughts i desperately tamp using daylight lamps and light it up and let it out by myself alone this doubt that i belong waking amongst you with these easily read emotions cut forth and laid out potions of somewhat caustic grout, my seams need filling or you’ll witness a crash either covered in white powder or red blades time fades let’s get back together before they know the undertow and gravity of these trembling tragedies i give them names and sort them while glazed discussing the weather in this relationship maze let me go it’s not fair. bullshit it’s despair learn to repair the scenes that played out when you had no choice 

that’s easy enough 

to figure eight fly that kite and wish you may wish you might there’s no fucking stars falling for you it’s packing it up and dropping off never look back. yah, it sucks that i died away so quick that we can’t relate or i’ll crumble. know my head nod and muffled mumble is me saying i understand. 

you can’t know. 

how surprised you may be if you knew how vain and important and right and perfect i am while i consider slashing apart everything within from frustration working to find a balance of how to convey this. 

woody woodpecker wouldn’t have liked me i just know it 

i sunk my fingers childlike into my eyes pushing too hard, rebounding out of the cosmic jelly fading from black into reality as i wait for my bowl of life to perfectly sog each square for a satisfying mouthful of crunch and goo sitting cross legged on a shag carpet square matted with broken popcorn and the neighbor girls hair wondering if i stared long enough into the box i could be my own cartoon fox i’d wear a sly smile and carry a cane a vulpes gene kelly singing in the rain at the end of every episode i’d give a wink and nod, “see you next time” 

the crashing sound from the next room snapped me out of that daydream loom and that fucking laugh ended the show fading out it was time to go, i know, my ‘god damn’ shoes, still wet from yesterday’s walk to this house, my daily douse of reasons to lace up and head to school. i have my own desk there, people ask me questions with less of a stare, when i shake they notice. i don’t say much. not sure how to thank you, yet i can slip into the world of history, a greek tragedy and can you believe we can link words that rhyme, i understand how to get three from nine and lunches although square are warm. there was a fire alarm once, it scared me, everyone knew where to go, i followed, we huddled together until the bell rang again. it was cool. 

farms are burning 

sights are merging 

into masses of char 

we won’t have to go far 

to visit the view

black lit hue

huddled next to only a few who had the ability for upward mobility and that idea of pulling anything to get up is lost in a triangle structure it’s where you’re born is where you’ll stay the travel ban isn’t an idea, it wasn’t the media it’s gun clips and ammo, cigarettes tossed and camo, forgetting we collectively are mammals

vegas is brought to our home with sunday picks and bastardized wine is a cup with mix i lost the south watching gone with the wind and that city known for strong breezes, i’ll play grand theft auto in-between sneezes that were brought on by recycled air delivering my groceries no prices to compare i left for montana i was told i could be a tycoon, but they diverted all flights to the moon and europe is blasting, india’s fasting, i can’t walk down the block these friendships aren’t lasting yard signs litter our lens to see the staging of life in a new reality lost in complaining winter is raining our sinister drenched skeptical minds is all that’s remaining

i hopped in my car

the batteries dead

i opened a photo album to find you instead 

my sense of touch is famished as i stare at the glow of a tv set, reminded there’s one thing i haven’t met

and slip silently shutting the scarlet shutters and relieve this debt

Simplified versions of recipes cutting out ingredients 
that might just be important

don’t do it

don’t have me if you can’t attest to uncomfortable walks where i unzip my vest for dramatic affect and fire back how much of a wreck you are at certain times and events weakness walking wailing i refuse to be near you neighbors out mowing with dogs can’t tell if we’re together twenty feet between us admiring landscape knowing this force field prevents a one act easily identified play of hearts that fade death drama displayed a silent movie anyone whose ever wanted to move forward and grow with another person has spent time forgetting their not at home while emotions unfold why should the walls contain our expressions it’s then the taboo and sneak attack boos get called a new name. nope, you pissed me off two blocks from our bed and rather then wrestle alone in my head hiding, we heal while hollering. it’s not names we call, it’s general frustration normal temptation. it’s ok. we feel. hush don’t say a word people might think that’s a cuss they heard or, oh no, they witnessed my bird. pent up and exploding shakes walls, while hiding and hustling down halls ensures we will eventually fall. bite my tongue i was taught to do, i can’t while honestly loving you.