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Laying Down and Underpainting

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She called our love kitsch

From the 17th floor

Williamsburg high rise

Overlooking homeless in the park

Under dressed and over exposed

Was I kidding her or just killing myself?

Fascinated by her manic beauty

As she tore apart the morning in disguise

Throwing fits of rage like I’d paper in a bin

Stripping away my senses like her past

It wasn’t as much a choice as it was survival

Leaving her lust like the vanilla

She tasted on my ghost

While laying down the underpainting

For her latest masterpiece in loss

carnival games

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I don’t really know

Exactly what I am

Perhaps a shadow of my former self

Turned inside out

Back to his former self

Like a Ferris Wheel spins

I can be any focused face in the crowd

Though I don’t know the difference anymore

And we’re too old for carnival games

Tomorrow’s Shadow

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So now all we get is tomorrow.

While yesterday’s dreams unravel.

Ticking like a clock are we

ever able to grasp the moment?

Present in ourselves,

though hardly in another.

Tomorrow’s but a shadow

hurrying to catch up.

cool shit

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Life ain’t always about

doing the things you want to do,

more likely than not it’s

doing the things you have to do.

And maybe some cool shit along the way.

Who-Dis-Mad one?

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Not all of us get the happy ending

Not all of us get the sad one either

Most of us get the open ended

Rattle-Tat-Tat Who-Dis-Mad one?

And frankly, with enough kicks in pocket

I’m pretty alright with that one.

Then only dust remains

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I like listening to the sound

Of beautiful melodies

Ones I haven’t the heart to play

Ones I haven’t the strength to ignore

Mostly those that come in waves

After morning, noon, and night

You can hear them like catching

The glimpse of a shooting star

Barefoot atop San Jacinto

Bend Oregon or Williamsburg highrise

Naked in the ecstasy of flight

Knowing even as your approaching

You’ve already begun to disappear