Her love
Like a phantom
Continues to be
A Footnote
On this broken
Chandelier
Of a story
For the underground
Home » 2021 (Page 7)
Yearly Archives: 2021
daydream eyes
For every bad breath morning
For every kitty litter night
The only thing I’d change
was the fabric softener,
which still lingers
like her kiss
in my daydream eyes
Where the message is pure
as fresh cut grass
The smell of sage and
Himalayan Shilajit
Due Date
For the extra couple hours sleep
I’ll take the 50 dollar ticket thanks.
And pay it with a smile, smugly
the day after it’s due—
Rib Cage
Don’t think you’re working hard enough?
Then wait till you can see your rib cage
Wait till instead of loathing
You begin to welcome sleep
Wait till your veal turns to porterhouse
Till your pennies turn to dollars
Wait till going home is lonelier than not
Till you don’t feel whole until you’re broken
Broken from the inside out so that no one can see
No one but
You
In the morning
In the mirror
In the gray light
Admiring your rib cage
Knowing you’ve worked hard for this
Hard enough to die—
But not quite
My Dear, Rumination
After a while
you’ll come to realize
that it’s these
needle thin problems, these
paper thin thoughts, these
failed salutations, and
strangers fiction bought
that keep us alive
and somewhere we ought
not dare go alone,
what a gift to feel lost—
my dear, rumination
what a privilege I’ve been granted
these feelings I have fought.
This Boys Life
If it sounds like suicide
It’s probably suicide
If it doesn’t, then
It’s probably suicide
You see. I’ve got to toy with it
I’ve got to play with it
Let it tangle me in knots until
I’ve grown tired of its tricks, until
I’ve acquired a finer taste
For those brief honest moments
Just before sleep, letting him go
Pillow breathing in peace, with it all
And how it had to end, in order for
This boys life—to begin…
Rebuttals
It flows naturally, doesn’t it?
As natural as an oil spill
are rebuttals fueled
by lack of sense
and dead fish handshakes.
Driving In LA
in LA
Are the women who drive
with dogs on their lap
Who at stop signs make
no attempt to stop
Cutting me off are these women
with Versace glasses to block the sun
Haunting amounts of eyeliner
blush, and lipstick the color of
raw meat
These are the same women who at home
have too many pairs of shoes
and never enough
And the fluffy little designer poodle
primped and propped high
on the lap of their would be master,
if these women weren’t blowing their
alimony checks on Princess’s groomer
They’re either on their phone at red lights
Cutting me off in the wrong lane
Or cutting me off at four way stops
Princess with her beady little eyes
And her dirty little asshole
Sitting like a queen
upon
the biggest assholes in LA
And she’s smiling at me
Cause even she knows
the irony
Dead Pigeons
One of these days
I’ll have to say goodbye
It’s not that it’ll be too hard
It’s just that it’ll be time—
Throwing rice and waiting,
for the pigeons to die.
When 5 Minutes Fills A Lifetime
Please.
Don’t make me feel worse
as I just feel so poor already.
My limbs are weak and my mind,
mush…You can stay a while sure
but like the day you’ll go again,
sinking with the sun. Feeling forlorn?
And again my God! Frightened
to see the end? And frightened to begin?
Well that makes two of us lately til
tomorrow comes much quicker when
yesterday’s a passing feeling.
What have you doom and gloom?
Haven’t you been listening? Go away
I’m tired. Besides I’ve got a 7am call
and I plan on being paid overtime.
Yet you’re so tempting my dear
misery in waiting, and you’re knocking like
a hopeful neighbor.
Effortless is your kiss, it’s aim
a mother’s prayer before bed.
Words Of An Average White Male 