Saturday, December 8, 2018


only the hint of a scent
a memory buried deep inside
that pulls like a fish hook
in the mouth of the whale of memories
suddenly the sky is the exact shade
as it was that one morning
the trees smell fresh and new
as if sprung from the pages of a book
who painted this vista
on the napkin of past?
when the colors should have eaten through
long ago
why is it visible now
in frightening clarity
as if the past and present
have fucked through each other
and just like it appeared
it vanishes, leaving a thin wetness
like vapor

Monday, November 26, 2018

The Crunch

these dreams taste like blood
they wake me up with violence
it's that time of the night again
the edge of dreams and memories
i'm hurling through space
the void tears open my face
the stars spin like marionettes
sleep is just death without the grace
still i wait to sleep again 
curled up in my thoughts
that wrap around me like smoke
of my own burning
forced to close my eyes
dream of dim-lit rooms
grab on to a sliver of
a picture in my mind
who cares if my hands bleed
if i grin or scowl like a maniac
stuck to a day in my head
sucking dry the seconds

i scream, you scream, we all scream, life is horrible.

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

The Machine God Relents

A deep black silence shrouds the night
Feeding on the pain and misery
Of the broken few that dare
To step out, crippled by their fright

The slow rain never lets off in this city
Slick, damp, mold grows like hopelessness
High on the opium of hope and lies
The denizens deserve no pity

The sick clouds part to reveal a filthy moon
The dying of the ground in a slow heartbeat
Jaundiced eyes stare at their reflections
Wishing for an end, wishing it to be soon

The machine god has their name on his list
Marking them off one by one
He takes to pleasure or pain in this act
Of crushing lives in the palm of his fist

I don't know. I don't know.

Thursday, September 20, 2018

slow burn

a matchstick stuck in an eternity
a flame painted on the face of time
dreams with carbon framed reality
strong as bones, brittle as twine
delusions are the flavor of the day
garnished with paranoia and fear
clouds smother the light
everything is clear
clear as the day
i first set my eyes on you
started this slow burn
fire become desire
I'd burn burn burn
again and again

Saturday, August 18, 2018

The Game

The spineless angels
Play cards
On the cosmic table
While the world burns
In their absence
Their coffers
Filled with praise and adoration
Their glasses are always full
But they still can't get drunk
They flip the cards on the table
A game with rules
Passing time to ignore
The fate of fools
An ace there, a queen here
The joker's missing from this deck
In the larger scheme of things
A significant speck 
Who knows what nightmares 
Bubble in the heaping trouble
That brews in the corner 
Of the dark game room
Just lit by the fire
Of a slowly burning moon


a rush of images, sounds, tastes, and touch
a man can only take so much
before he violently shakes his head
like a dog to come back to the now

but the colors of the now are muted
there is no comparison to a dimly lit afternoon
like a Polaroid of a rainbow, frozen in time
something secret, just yours and mine

the whirlpool of thoughts has me in its grip
my heart on a slide and ready to slip
how can a few hours be such a trip
it's a high that keeps on giving

back in the now
my dreams are peppered
with everything you

Friday, July 6, 2018


the words fly from his mouth
like insane butterflies
floating away on warm currents
of whispers that go unheard
he stands on a broken ladder
balanced on a rickety wall
he climbs a rung higher
to be heard by one and all
and the man speaks of truth
and lies and dreams and fears
of anyone who'd lend him
their attention and their ears
but people ignore him
just another madman
throw some food at him
maybe that will shut him up
but the butterflies still fly
invisible and light
they get tangled in the thoughts
of people passing by
another madman is transfixed
by this dance of butterflies
he falls in love on the street
with a girl who's passing by
as she brushes back her hair
all tangled with butterflies