You infect my mind everyday
Evermore thinking of your kiss
The one thing that was taken away
The one thing that I miss

That blank cold stare
Whispers trampling in my mind
You think I don’t care
It’s not cruel to be kind…

Poke it with a stick
Add fire to the flame
I will never run back
Never again

You came with a belt
I locked the door
I fell to the ground
My love was no more

We fell out of love
You shattered my heart
Just pretend like it’s nothing
Whilst I fell apart

Standing here today
Half dead, half alive
You think that you won
But the truth, I survived …

In boredom
Finding a good story
Is like a spring
In the desert

The scarecrow
balances a moon
upon a red mittened hand

a mouse
looks out
of his left eye

the scarecrow
shivers
with the change of weather

I see he still wears
my old coat
it suits him better

in the inside pocket
an old Metro ticket
an unfinished poem

the words indecipherable now
looking like a scarecrow
wrote them

in my dreams
the scarecrow takes the train
finishes the poem

his ending
better than
mind

I toss the moon
from one red mittened hand
to the other

a mouse looks out
my left eye
I wonder how the scarecrow's doing?

I shiver
with delight
it's gonna be a long night

Dear Mr. Television,

There are poor air quality in national parks.
Californians are painting their lawns green.
A ****** Galactic pilot survived failed space mission for billionaire.
Santa Cruz lost an 8 year old and found her dead in a recycle bin.
Berkeley police in riot gear hunted a man with silver teeth for robbing laundromat.
Jamestown archaeologists found first American settler remains.
LA mayor second guessed Olympic games.
SF sign said "hold it!" to keep urination off public domains.
LA police handed out "quality of life" citations to homeless people.
Opinions urged citation clinics for the "service resistant".
Others said it's all in vain without any housing.
Mexico made Presidential candidate Donald Trump into piñata,
      but the people have taken enough swing at him already.

Your pal,
Newspaper

Last night I read about a woman who purged herself to death.
We shared the same birthday,
the same habits.
Sometimes I wake up in disgust with these bones.
Other times, in narcissistic bliss with these bones.
Then there are those perpetual evenings,
when I whisper threats disguised as mantras to these bones
I want my obituary to say
that I loved this delicate framework of calcium & collagen.
When I'm 91 and the only thing I've expulsed myself of
is the need to perfect these bones.

Made my morning
much much easier

Doing everything that
I was told to never do.

Wake up with wine
A glass at a time
And at least three
Puffs of Cuckoo Chi.

Before that I **** myself.
Or, with luck, a PYT,
Who promises me
She’s on the pill.  

And if not, Oh
Well, I’m sure “Zanir”
wasn’t her government name.


It took close to twenty-three years
To shake off the agony of daytime.
There was no place for me in the
Systematic sunlight. Or, at least,
Not one that I could see.  But now

I’ve got a bottle, ½ full of optimistic
Alcoholism. I manage the condition
With a bit of cinnamon, spiced into
Steel cut oats and W.A. Elderberries.


Admitting what you don’t understand
While trusting that you know yourself
Is the last, if not only, human freedom.

Social expectation &
Psychic ambiguation.

Don’t take refuge in the familiar
Without first hugging your weird.

Comfort traps aren’t new,
Just the latest edition in:
That’s How They Get You.