writer’s block

screen door exclusion
standing silently among
the cat eyes of noon

how many times have
these walls observed
twisted tails
living through days
like a wealthy bum

the surface has barley been scratched
and we are
treading on hallowed ground
or was it just
hollow ground

split personalities
like rundown factories
tread upon the silent hill
bare boned
and waiting for rebirth

the swarm is ever present
lurking like rats in the wood pile
invoking and imposing
scattered definitions
upon the midnight mile

in the distance i see
beer cans
lined up like tin soldiers
ready for another pointless war
decadent as we swim once again
for another empty shore

magic motion
with dreams like
warning signs
pursuing conscious thought
and there is no afterlife
we just keep coming
back and back and back

i think of death everyday
but not quick death
the slow death
that rebounds from
distracted and desecrated living

modified monarchies lacerated
men are the modern beasts
made irrelevant by
slight of hand-maidens
as defiance is transmuted
into reliance

v isn’t for victory
nor for vendetta
v is for variety
and life has a way
of kicking you in the balls
before patting you on the back

it’s strange how satan wears
green satin shirt-sleeves
and in summer
the rent is never due

quiet and alone
my cats have shown me
how to map the stars
in this moment
i’m writing delicately
the world seems
almost fragile

and all i want to do is fuck and fly



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