Felt-tip fealty
Stolen obscenities
Mistake a meme for a movement
Relace the seam with dissolvable stitches
Rebuild atop a crumbling foundation
Division as salvation
Rebrand sickness as entertainment
Zero sum inversion
Decaying recursion
Garbage in, garbage out
Beat that drum
Run back to what you knew
For four long years you’ve wanted to
I’ll choke down all that might have been
And spit out what you’re accustomed to

T'is
one thing
confuses
me

With
all the shit
my baggage
be

Mis-
placing
said shit
commonly

Mis-
directing
hostil-
ity

'Til
missing shit
returns
to me

So here's
the thing
that doth
confuse

With
all the shit
from which
to choose

'Here's one
I
never seem
to lose

Kicked
abused
un-
graciously used

But
never
lost
my fucking shoes

My shoes
I
never seem
to lose

Alone with my thoughts
Like dots
Poignantly plucked from aetherial drift
Dippin' downwind towards their destinies
To melt into all I forgot

You'd eat the grass we're walking over
I'd fix my gaze upon the clovers
Looking for one that had four leaves
But all those fuckers had just three

Read More

Oh, hiking boot, you're dear to me
I'll take you marching through the sticks
And beneath the forest canopy
Should serpent coil sneakily
On yonder side of fallen tree
O'er which we step unknowingly
You tell that snake emphatically
That he can eat a bag of dicks

Read More

A Band-Aid handmaid in her teflon tank
Bernie bros beside her having a wank
Rose petal roundup riding the flank
Hillbilly handlers staking the bank
Captain America walking the plank
Zeitgeist Zamboni resurfacing rank
A generation now grown we were told not to spank
Participation trophies honed into shanks
At the Battle of the Bulge we waved our white Spanx
We won't birth a new nation by firing blanks
We are self righteous. We are ignorant. We write them all off as cranks
Now please, bow your heads and let us give thanks

Time to turn the new me back into the old me that was the new me before the old me became the new me turning the new me into the old me twice removed because that new me became the old me when I became the new me (a step in the right direction, I’ll grant you but this new me hardly measures up to the new me that is the old me twice removed) and so I want to turn the new me into the old me once removed and knock the old me out of joint to slide ahead into the new me so that the old me will be the new me twice removed and the new me the old me to the new me.

Art is ammunition
Will is compensation
Love is libation
Grief is gravitas
Humility is wisdom
Humanity is humiliation
Unconditional love is apex

Love is a bidirectional link
An evolution of self-preservation
Two hearts do not beat for each other
They cannot do so
For they are the same heart
A heart can only beat for itself
As this one does
In two places

Spooky action at a distance
Two hearts
Drawing strength
Each beat an echo of the other
Harmony
Synchronicity
Quantum physicality
Love is a beating heart
Beating never sleeps
Gift from the giving tree

Without death, there is no life
And love is for the living
To bear an entangled heart is to know fear
The fear of losing love
As the loss of life breaks the link
Leaving half a heart to carry on
Bearing twice the burden

But the fear is vestigial
It belongs to the classical
The entangled heart is quantum
Love is energy
It persists in perpetuity
As one heart grows weak
Love traverses the link
Finding permanence within the unified heart
Now beating with twice the strength

The heart does not diminish with forlorn loss
It beats stronger
True love never fades
It reaches out through nurturing thought
Seeking souls with which to bond
By way of the entangled heart
Growing ever stronger
Giving ever greater
Like a drum drawing others
As the dark draws light
Each union
Doubling the heart's capacity to love
A loving heart is boundless
Hearts entwined
To thump in time
A drum circle
This size of which is limitless

I am an empty frame
Not a blank canvas, mind you
But a vessel

If a picture speaks a thousand words,
Does the void inside me ring mute?
Does it swallow expression like a dark star?
How can anything possibly grow when so devoured?

The back of my head tingles mildly
With vague notions of having once held a picture
Firmly in place
As it spoke

For the life of me
Could I recall just a little of what it said
Just…
Something…
Anything…

I am an empty frame
And all I want
All that I need
Is something to hold onto

Leave your eyes here with me
So in times of need
I might cradle them with cupped hands
And drawing them near to an ear
I'll listen as the waves break
Recollecting memory

You see
They house a piece of me
Without which I feel incomplete
I have tried to retrieve it
But I think that this part of me can only exist there
In your eyes

So if you take your eyes away from me
I'd be a man apart
Someone unfamiliar
Hardly recognizable
It's the only place I feel I know myself
There in your eyes

If you don't leave them
I'll shatter
A part of me
Forever lost
And the cracks will always show
No matter how meticulously glued back together the pieces

A time much maligned
Possessed of an unwavering haze
Fuming
Persistently
The fog of malaise
Groping our communal psyche
And not kindly
And not with love

Twittering clutter
Breaded and buttered
Sputters
Unconsciously
Protests exhaustively
Pleading to end
The bountiful scavenge
For sacrificial children

I used to daydream
Of how I wish things could be
A quivering arm placed beside me
A tender touch of flesh
And an exhale with whispers
Coiling my ravaged skin

A voice whistling through my ear drums
So familiar
I cannot distinguish it from my own
The gentle stroke
First across my cheek
And then atop my skull
So passionate
Words need not accompany it

I used to dream of a passion
So deep inside me
It tickled my throat to breath

I guess it's time to hit the creative head
To piss away hope and expectation
Seething up cerebral shunt
Ubiquitous union, sin-eating libations
Palliative pantomime
Lanolin lollipops
Liquidate irreverent state
Sedatious painted faces

In search of mighty metaphor
To smelt conceptual obscurities
Squeeze the ore now found in hand
Melt it down to liquid sand
Form focal lens to key the door
And open wide to clearly see

Look at you
Looking at me
What truth do you see?

Can you piece together
My fragmented coherency?

Will the weight of your words tether me?
Bind my sense of dignity?

How am I to process life real-time
Tied up by all this latency?

Point and shout posterity
Artificially
Hearts and minds
Algorithmic fallacies to form
The framework of our age
Righteous malaise
Obsessive indifference
A neurochemical spill
Humanitarian hazmat
Lab rat spinning within his wheel of time
Futility his pantomime
Which squeaks loudest?
The wheel?
The rat?
Look how much better
In his new digital format
No fuss
No frills
Look how the limbs move independently
They prostrate quite instinctively

Mischievously sentimental,
With whispers like wings
Fully extended
Silently, methodically
Searching for an updraft
A most technical,
Patience-imbued craft

Aft of consciousness,
Can you absolve a jingle myth?
Live and let die
Is there accuracy in this order?

Disorder
“Mortar fire,”
Yelps the border crier
Duck and cover motherfucker
Until all insurgents tire
And retire

You pierce me with patience
The obsequious stain from letted vein puckers
A brand new blame beneath a crescent sun
Fallen fantasia
Only a squatter after all
Touching strains the febrile strands that bind us

If there were no hurt, no fuss
Life’s luster would dim beneath the moral rust
Bless the un-blooded with civil unrest
Stolid frowns force finance down
To hold up high our fallen hounds
To bury deep in sanctimonious mounds

The beat of broken wings
Brings no more pain than cages
That bind to fly refrain
Nought but a name
And selfhood
And brotherhood
And sisterhood
To salt the sand through sifting hands
Bound at wrist with rubber-band

With wings bequeathed to me
By a minor,
A man made to suffer
For projecting into a fictional world
His authenticity,
I can fly now

I can lose myself
Whimsically
Within these winds
Which carry me away
From dreams of serenity

These wings are my sterility
My immunity
From that which once disabled me
A complicated pregnancy
That gave birth to piss and vinegar

I whisper
With a wheeze
A pilgrim
To a rose
A withered touch of satin heart bestows

The whistleblower's linens
I sleep within tonight
And this frames the shot
Of how my swan song goes

Like a harlot
Inside out
A pilgrim
To a rose
Just drop the bucket down without a hose

Like a child
Standing before his father's maker
He stood
Beholding his feathered cross

As an oval sunrise
His pupils grew
As if to draw more light
As if for reassurance
That this time
In this moment
He may relieve himself
Make-believe himself
Into his father's feathered cross

He entered
As a Vegas quarter
To spin the wheel
For his father's feathered cross

To cash in
On society's whim
Of coping with his loss

To make a man
Of putrid flesh
By drinking wine

To balance filth
By saving swine
And kneeling before his father's cross

He sings a song
To learn his mind
To save his race
With rape and pillage
To televise his worldly word
Like wind professing warmth

His hope is stagnant
For this feeds faith
And faith is all he needs
To grasp his father's feathered cross

His prophet learned to profit
To make-believe his past
And his descendants
Filled the ears
Of desperate souls
In need of something they can clasp

He has but what was once a whimper
Cloning In his veins
An emptiness
A loneliness
A mold for making models
Of his father's feathered cross

The wherewithal
To spawn a flicker
Of life
With words of lead
Or vocal tones
Is scarcely strewn
Into our air
To breath deep through our bones

Thus, pine and pout
A lover's plea
Bring bread to table weeping
Drag battered hearts
And watered eyes
Through the streets of Dis

Pass joyous dreams
To naive beings
Too young
To wear their wits

But know
As plighted masochist
You deny
The sting of tenderness
Speaking
With a lisp
Swimming
Through the wading pool

With a whisper beaten soliloquy
I drink the blood and roses

Between the black breath of Solomon
And Timothy Rice
I grasp what Jesus presupposes

It's the wilting of Rochester
Screaming for streams
That creates the idols

Only when winter relaxes
And fasts
Can love beat between the bibles

Ask for some cinnamon
Loaves of adrenaline
To vacate the vice of a breast

Hearts disconcert
As Othello once learned
When pipes lead constraint and unrest

Paranoia patches peasants
To swim in a stream of their own

Disillusion spawns an abrasion
That drinks down the marrow
A succulent sparrow
To please the king and his wife

Crawling
From flesh to face
It becomes clearer to me
Just what I am

I see in four dimensions not three

My brain feels swollen
And I do not believe
It functions properly

It flutters
Like butterfly wings
And I see a whole other world
Of twisted vision

There is this sound
In my head
Repeating itself

It sounds like glass
Breaking underwater
I would imagine

I don't know what this means
But I am getting used to it

Everyone keeps asking me questions
But they collide together
And merge
And I cannot answer
Any of them

I cannot even answer myself
That's the worst thing