Time’s strangeness surpasses
sad fields of corrugated metal,
spastic lights that project
commercial intent,
technological wonders
barely willed into existence
by the minds of inventors
who we will never visit.

Tragic daydreams of daring proportions
as the desire to acquire materiel wealth
cause us to shift and over extend ourselves.

The Earth bares such deep scars,
as men and women work and draw
from the almost infinite well of greed,
that angry stomach with teeth
that seems to exceed human reach.

Forever and an instant met up one day,
had a short but lovely talk,
then each went on its way.

Me, on my way to clock out,
He, croaking wooden breaths, a
Splintering throat, crooked as an oar's overbite
Glinting with some
Unbelievably bared promise.

I looked past him, echoed the anxious knots
Of its hollowed brow, scooped and spotted
From overuse, I frowned past him, though he followed.

I spent as long as I could not talking to him,
But forced to deny myself silence
I heard his two part speech
And paid some token focus
To what he had to say

What little I heard, in his hope filled groans
Had nothing of his contented purpose, for
Varnished words are slippery

When we went to the pub he
Leant on the wooden counter and
His roots set, he
Sprouted drunken fruit and
I don't think he's moved since

Look here! At that tree!
Don't you see it swaying?
Mama why does it do that?

Is it a powerful wizard-
That shakes the tree for apples-
To defeat the evil dragon?

Is it that the tree's are dancing-
They dance to put-
A smile on my face?

Or is it the wind?

Look here! At that bush!
Its moving slightly!
Mama why does it move?

Is it afraid-
That a evil bandit will come and-
Hide his weapons in it?

Or that-
An angry lumberjack will come-
And rip it from the ground?

Or is it the wind?

Look here! On the tv!
Mama! Look here!
That kid died today mama
Mama why did he?

Maybe he is secretly an angel-
And he is returning-
Back home?

Maybe an angel asked him-
To dance with them-
Among the stars?

Or is it just because of selfishness?

Look here! Hey! Look here!
Hey mama! Where are you?
Mama why did you leave?

Your secretly an agent?
And you have to go on-
A very important mission?

Oh now you say that
The wind is asking you to dance with them-
And you cant refuse the wind.

Or is it because of me?

She told me what he did.
How he slid
his fingers
inside of
her,
how he pushed
and grinded her,
despite the pleas,
how he stopped her
when she tried to flee.

After the confession
I felt the fog of fury
consume me.

I set loose
my rage
and scarred his face
with scores
of scratches
and deeper cuts.

I slid my blade
inside his gut
and saw bits
and chunks
of vital organs
dribble
from
the gaping wound.

What fun to see
this dark adult
gasp and bleed
flapping like
a fish
grasping
for the ocean’s embrace.

With serial killer efficiency
I cleaned the crimson stained cutlery
and left him there to stare blankly
at the concrete.
Then I burnt my cloths
and wrote this note
for you to find
when I die.

Female, male, Homosexual,
Genderqueer, Pansexual,
Transgender, Bisexual,
there is wonder in
the fluctuations
of identity’s observations.
Hunger swelling
desire blooming
then in a sated state
receding
no longer needing
****** fulfilling.
A curiosity
how such complexities
reveal humanity’s variety.
Not to be feared or hated
but celebrated and elevated
for the chance to see
something different from you and me
cause life is boring
without the beauty of novelty.

In emotional agony
one or many more times
I melted my own flesh,
pressed glowing orange thin
lit cigarette tips down on my skin
to prove I was
strong enough
to bare the pain,
but ended up
really proving
how weak I was.
Outer dermis mutilated.
Hot ashes flicked away
after the self-inflicted pain game
and adding to this strangeness is
that I didn’t even smoke cigarettes.

The silent light
circles the
dark blue
clouded night
sweeping gently
across the buildings
that bulge and burst
up from
this concrete kingdom
as they scrape the sky
searching for some
tower of Babylon
kind of meaning.

The night is sweet
and generous to me,
offering a soft breeze
to please,
and prevent overheating.

But there is something
eating at me.
Grief bating,
it has been waiting
for an unconsciously
expected tragedy.

So, tears threaten
to consume me,
water devouring
soft skin,
and flesh reddening
for something
that has yet to happen,
something I have imagined.

Though, I know
the night is beautiful,
I still cry.