a collection of empty lighters

tapped out and corkscrewed
into an uneven end
as the piano descends
into a black and white melody
innovation is held in the shadow of repetition
five more terrible poems to go

egos impose
as excuses expose
fabricated tempos
forever unfinished
and god damn it
today there is just something
i must compose
before my hands and eyes
completely decompose

love like a long distance call waiting to connect
abdication of habits that make us human
i’m stroking the soft underbelly of the soul
blacklisted yet broadcasting abstract harmonies

tired and spent like a friday afternoon paycheck
one more dance within the matrix
it’s a risky wager
with the promise of soft madness
as we drift from one
undefined purpose to the next
unrefined day jobs lead to
ambiguous nights littered with
uncensored women, hastily rolled cigarettes,
and cheap liquor
sudden anxiety in the morning
this playlist is killing me slowly

trolling on empty floors
and listening to the cold cries
of a curious kitten

we’re steeped in
recovery with no remorse
as eyes erratically avoid entanglement
driving down flailing and failing roads unsung
burnt up, spitting ash from a withered tongue
we continue to search for an automatic fix
as hieroglyphics and metaphysics randomly mix

finely tuned and over dramatic
engaged in the mad ballet of skullduggery
we are autonomous bodies
with heads that explode
in the morning masterpiece
as the table is set once again
for another poorly timed release

i wield the double-edged sword of technology
in hopes of slicing tyranny into halves of freedom
the world is still on fire
yet the cat still sits in my lap
genders and traditions are no longer absolute
we live within definitions continuously sent down
the memory hole’s oppressive chute
main street is empty, and
all people are not created equal
the war on drugs still persists
as ordinary citizens are arbitrarily
transformed into terrorists
politics still divide us
yet music, and art still hold the light
to guide and unite us

summer still fades into winter
and every morning i still wake up at three am
the word still remains elusive as
holy rhythms are hacked from deadwood
perhaps tomorrow
the gods will grant me
a greater revelation


One thought on “a collection of empty lighters

  1. Hi just wanted to give you a quick heads up and let you know a few of the pictures aren’t loading correctly. I’m not sure why but I think its a linking issue. I’ve tried it in two different web browsers and both show the same outcome.

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