I Will die Someday, . And Now, in this Makeshift lodge, As we All Encompass a Makeshift lodge Of our minds, . I see Shrapnel Deceased in Forests of the akin.

And now instead of this hell We’re wheels churning, . Legs working round on oarsmen’s apparati, Lava nipping, splashing, Leaving little scars.

They’ve Got all this armor, Again, It’s armor I’ve seen and it’s Armor I see, . It’s armor Goes Into order A Pizza and it’s Armor At the cash Register but I caught A corner glimpse Of the horse’s Sweat written Across His eyes like Nothing blank And I Couldn’t help but wonder Was it […]

She’s as sweet as seven moons Covered in honey And she never says “no” To a richening of the mood, Which forever is a change that takes us high above the nether scope, . Passing through all our miles of blue liquid, She lets light fall on all of it, And whatever dances in the […]

We have to weave through each other As half moons, High octane – . The drips of thoughts now vapor, An ergo heartbeat Mining every way of Our ego’s invention

This is miscellaneous day, When it’s possible to be innocuous, Kissing broad-lipped trees, Sipping On half a pint Of an avenue

In wondering why I have an inferiority complex, and how to get rid of it, I find myself taking up space once again in my hardwood room, the furnace running, the epidermic vistas imbuing. We’re all hacksaws. Living with another person is like sharing phlegm. And who knows what goes on inside our bodies. And […]

Teachers eat at Subway. Sitting silent, but noticing everything, looking out the window, knowing exactly where to look, and where not to, waiting. Waiting for the nectar to secrete from the family ahead of me, and the mom gives me a smile, as I throw my tray away, and the sun wanes ever more slowly. […]

The air was moist, with colors of the nighttime getting set, in the late winter evening sky. I’d just returned home from a day of errand running, checked the mail, caught glance of the Santa rug still on the porch from Christmas, and once again, walked inside, feeling empty. Then I thought, damn, I better […]

I look up on the bright pages, And they’re all mine, In the phone book, Lavish . Pages of yellow And orange, Like daphodills screaming Of 999 years back all Decadent reflection.