there’s a portion of my jaw
that’s been decaying for a while
but my dentist said it’s nothing
so I’m living in denial
of the costly surgery to come
if I can even swing it

I’m rotting
I’m rotten
counting on tools
that I sabotage daily
to harness an energy
I can’t generate,
so often,
too often -
I’m looking at the cost of a coffin
instead of getting prepped
for a day in the life

The washer and dryer mask the sound of Nana and me
Down the three or four steps to the garage
Of the Blackberne house
Her hands on my hands or more likely
Gripping my forearms
As dimples take over my chin
Voice shaking
As she dredges the grief of the day out of me

he collects unopened packs of playing cards
that sell him this experience of
hyperventilating with the hope of something invaluable
popping up in an unexpected pack of playthings

                                                               ­                     “They’re collectibles!”

the customer’s wringing his fingers
like he’s pulled the crank of some slot machine
promised to pay out big

                                                            ­                                      “THIS TIME!”

as he rips the packaging
to get at the meat of his purchase
card after card fanned before him
plainly shows his gamble

                                                               ­                                  “Didn’t pay off
                                                             ­                                     this go ‘round.
                                                         ­                           ***** to **** and all,”

he gets the thrill he paid for
but still walks away with less somehow

Better get to saying
While I’m able to say anything
I hope I’m saying something
That’s worth saying at all

All I’m trying to say is
I don’t think I’m gonna
Always have a mouth
I won’t always have a jaw
Or a tongue - for that matter

My esophagus is rotten
And my vocal folds are tattered
Bits of tissue flapping
Without issuing anything of interest
To those generally listening
To me
go on and on and on and on

There’s another minute wasted
I spent hours practicing to waste
Exactly in the way you’re wasting yours with me, now

By the time I finally make it to the end of
This mistakenly phrased sentiment
Regarding the nonsensical nature of language
You. might. hate. me.
I get the frustration
But all my time’s for wasting

It alleviates impatience
Saying one more saying
That they used to say
When we were just learning
How to say what we think

The aphorism applicable in any given situation
Has already been stated
So what’s with the expectation that
We be so **** creative?
After all - it’s ******* language

So to those that I’m communicating
Signifieds with signs
I beg that you bear with me
As I produce this diatribe

It’s not that everything must matter
That I utter, but I wonder
If it matters that I bothered to utter
Anything to someone other - than myself
But not this - ya know?

the sun is up
and I hate it
return me to the deep blue
of about 5:00 AM
seven is bright enough
I see why some people
would work in this light
but it’s more light
too much light - the
sun in my eyes looking
into the same sky
that offered a universe
hours ago
it offers a bright blue
and light
that illuminates
what is before us, but
the universe is lost to us
daylight forces our perspective
suddenly bickering
and industry
waking dreams
populate our waking moments
and what is before us
takes precedence over
likely dead stars
too far off for you
to have known
far off friends
we lost so long ago
before the sun
usurped them
yes
far off friends
already dead
but somehow preferable
to whatever this
blinding light
and unbearable heat of
the day bothers to offer

Human and insect
Beware:
Unwarranted touch is
Not species specific
Do not
******* touch me
As some kind of surprise

Spiders in earshot
Arachnids might just as well
Be ******* insects
Your critter legs can
Creepy-crawl all over but
Don’t ******* touch me
Don’t fixate hundreds of eyes on
Me, *****, you don’t know who you’re ******* with

For you to take any piece of me
Feels like a loss
So your life for my toe is winning
But not

*******
Not a problem
**** wit
And you’re gone

You actively procrastinate
Most everything you do these days
You really can’t put this off
To live instead of
Dying - as the one ambition you achieve
Why -
Should this be the one project
You actually complete?
Ambition ought to carry us toward something
Sure -
We could carry ourselves toward death
But we say that as nothing
To aim to achieve to be nothing
Enticing
Of course - to bereave ourselves of ourselves
Once and for all
And forego the work
Though we chose it
And choose it again
Choose it again