Neon signs came to replace the sun
last night, as the cars drove nowhere
and our minds drove somewhere;

the streetwalkers did not fail to appear
at the sound of change
splashing in a moving pocket;
***** like flowers in bloom,
we unearthed a dumpster rocket
and aimed for the moon,
prayed to land soon;

all the while aspiring with fire,
head tucked between thighs
as outside horns blared
to drown out practiced lies;

familiar smells like a gas cloud,
sensations of electric currents
sizzled fried brains on expired warrants;

so strong I could feel my nose hairs burn
while in revolt my stomach turned,

looking for someone, anyone
to blame,

while a million mourners yearned
for the same:

there was no one.

It seems like some
distant dream
fading away from me
into a bottle
floating at sea.

Maybe it was all
in my head;
although that doesn’t
make it fiction.

A part of me says
it never happened.
Just a hallucination,

a bad dream
fabricated
to haunt me
forever.

But when I sit here
and focus,
visualize myself
melting
into the seat,
face exploded
and spine snapped,

I remember everything.







Especially the nothing.

sinking in
an ocean of …
of everything

dark
gray, pixilated smudge
cigarette burns
on the movie screen

130 beats per minute
banging with fists
fists clenched
grasping
gasping

for
anything
other
than
this

but it’s
too
far
away

and I’m …
who the
hell knows

not here

and
maybe never
again.

Left without reason,
caught in the breeze
penetrating me;
a season for treason
discussing
the inevitable concussion
of creative repercussion.

Big bad pig man,
same sad **** plan;
it's for the audience
(we like you!)
hence the distorted sense
of a reported defense
impaled and left stale
atop a graying fence.

Trash the artistry,
erase the registry;
no active hard drive necessary.

The creeps are a lie:
it's not fine to color
outside the lines.
Remain sane in that little brain
with that structured page
to sterilize natural rage;

copy and paste with haste
until the end,
because approval of a friend
and the applause
of a predetermined cause
is all that's needed
to feel like we've succeeded.

"Safety in warmth
above the floor indoors,
where outside the cold's too bold."

Forget this united mantra,
shred your clothes and dip your toes,
and join me as a contra.

Because obscure is the cure,
while ease has always been the disease.

In you, there must be empathy,
For my madness, I've become.
No other names to call me by,
I am Mr. Numb.
The pain of the daily tastelessness,
Seems to lose itself in obscurity.
In the abstraction of shape and form,
I care to question me.

In you there must be hope,
For my mirror, you've become.
You will be my clarity,
I will not be numb.
The moment that we met,
Was ingrained within my mind,
But as the hours turned to days,
In the darkness, I now find...

Abstractions, you and tastelessness,
I'm found, obscured in loss.
My mind is the universe you reside within,
And emotion remains the boss,
As hours, weeks and years pass,
A moment becomes them all.
In the way a seed becomes a tree,
As we watch it slowly fall.