Tommy guns for insurance
And wads of sweaty cash
To build new empires with

But there are no guarantees
Crime, you see, doesn't pay
You can bank on it

So we already know how it ends:
They canceled his policy
And Dunaway with her

Some days I don’t want to leave the cinema
I sit dead centre,
hope the screen will fill my field of vision,
each speaker will cover my ears
in numbing sound
allowing thrills and broken hearts
of others’ made up tales
to supplant my own for two hours
and change

The dark holds me anonymous,
lets me depart and drift,
try on the moods in lost safety
so when credits roll
choked tears and shiny blisses
are returned, rewound, reset
for what comes next

I miss the satisfaction
of that little lever
advancing cellulose
frame by frame
for an unseen exposure
until developer hits film
producing an image
clicked at 1/60th of a second
in time

follow her follow
her doubled in greenlit
rooms,   golden bridges
possess her    /    she is possessed
of death: falling—.  in love again.

woodcutter's sunlight
absent like truth at the gate
at raintime; strangers'
memories, flowing as mud
a samurai was killed, but—

Snow. Globe / Newspaper
:: tycoon revealed as nothing
but a boy, taken
from mother / Nature simple
as a sled burning: "Rosebud."

The one who's Patient 139

A killjoy that's been to hell and back

Not afraid to keep on living

Not afraid walk this world alone

The one who's a drag king that slays

Who's the song I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

The one who considers singers, band members, and youtubers friends

That if I was on the show Escape The Night would be "The Poet"

Who to some degree understands Edgar Allan Poe's poems

And so that is who I am

~
atop the Manhattan skyline
her similitude descends as rain
we see her wonderwork
we see her water-standing
her very abandonment of draperies
unassuming and artless
where the heedless moths settle
with bodies of mystic warmth
colored with rose and a dash of flame
~
– for Audrey Munson