truck stop logistics
half dead among the stop lights
and provisioning mental health
within customer support hell

i’m tired of dogs in heat
conquests, protein shakes
and pointless doctors visits

the phone just doesn’t work
and today is a good day
for a black melody
whitewashed
i’ve passed out too early
and arrived too late
as
drooping eyelids
and labored breathing
signal the sign of a new dawn
we’re all just clowns
procrastinating
down this inevitable road

with songs, sins, and subtlety
we are
depraved or slightly saved
as inert fuck masks
are made sharp
during the study of dead sexes
and
curious forces stir
amidst incomplete orgasms
of a reluctant forecaster
tick, tock,
boom!

green creator of the pale moon
grant me one last open window (to crawl through)

rumbling like a pro
and seeking a setting
beyond these city streets
sometimes i dream of
trees growing on rooftops
and a world at peace
of nights spent
laughing at bad jokes
with a good friend
as exploration overrides expectation
a world of ones and zeroes
mixed on multifaceted palette
and thrown upon a canvas
of spectacular intent

today is no day for yesterday
and tomorrow is already sleeping
i miss the art
and the girl that embodied it
but the morning isn’t so bad
the autumn air is cool,
wet with anticipation
and it’s color is almost gold
i’m up early, well rested,
showered and ready to go

the trap is sprung
as i sit at this solid machine
time has no meaning here
cigarette smoke forms
cold blue ghosts
as the faucet of my mind
begins to turn slowly
gently dripping ideas
upon a scattered screen
it’s an approximation, computation
indirect preparation
for madnesses yet to come