Love’s the only cure.

I don’t wish to have the answers

for any questions of concern

just know that I am working

my hardest in reverse

to tame the wild memories

once thought of as a curse

those now that are a blessing

from the backseat of a hearse,

cause friendship it has shown me

like the calm hand of a nurse

the answers to the questions

where love’s the only cure.

footnotes in nursery rhyme

Got up this morning ahead of my time

shook fear from my hair and tears from my eyes

took to the mirror and spoke to this guy

who said he knew me from before —

it’s there that he unlocked the door.

He gave me a sunrise he gave me his hand

he told me a secret I could understand

life isn’t a journey or destination

it’s your choice to choose to buy in —

for me it’s better not to win.

So I sharpened my memory and tore out his tongue

recycled the organ from which I’d dislodged

filled it with the secret and sealed it shut

if X marks the spot then I’m fine —

love’s just footnotes in nursery rhyme.

Connecting the dots which soon filled my head

aligned with ideas I spoke with each step

life ain’t no cake walk or deal with respect

it’s your throat or mine well of course —

I’d take mine to spare you the course.

It’s kill or be killed so I’m on my knees

no fear any longer just tranquility

it’s obvious ain’t it half hearted pity

runs deep like the roots of despair —

no one’s got the cure or should dare.

So with that in mind one swift hit should do

a hole in the head hell it ain’t nothing new

I was head over heals now I’m sinking through

the clouds which look soft from afar —

at the end of this there’s only dark.

With all things considered it’s lovely I guess

like spilled paint confetti this hole in my chest

I’ve dug it before since third grade I guess

my actions speak louder than words —

it’s all been a blessing and curse.

lucky 13

lucky 13

31 but I see

the perfect representation

of what it means to free

that little boy caged

like a curse

relieved

in the back of a hearse

lucky 13, reversed

over time, it’s easy to see

at 31 years old

that boy was me

Drunk in Cyberspace.

Everything, I wanted to do,
slowly drifts away.

Clicking here, now clicking there,
it all just looks the same.

An endless maze, of travesty,
piles on each page.

But I don’t have, the guts or tact
or sincerity to look away.

And each time that, I tell myself
tomorrow’s another day.

The calendar, it flips and turns,
yet I just stay the same.

Consciously, predicting that
in sunlight I will change.

Then by the moon, retracting that
I’m drunk in cyberspace.

If nothing really mattered
then I guess
nothing really matters
and so if nothing really matters…
Then why the hell do I keep on trying to explain?
Why the hell do I keep on
this way?

They tell me thanks, rinse and repeat
all I can do is laugh.

There was a time, when I was sure
there seemed, some way back.

A charlatan, a debutante,
perfection on a screen.

Deeper in, still deeper now
a web of misery.

And by the time, I’ve had my fill
and walking on a cloud.

The city lights, extinguished by
eyelids that do bow.

It’s not a curse or act of God,
that craves some kind of change.

But the terror dreams of darkness,
while drunk in cyberspace.

The cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple
the cure, the cure is quite simple…

But.