lying under an unconscious sun
embracing the symphony
of another restless morning
existence is just a liquid gesture
meant to galvanize disassociation

what ever happened to the
midnight firing squad?
feeling blue
on a yellow day
gather your tools
and drive away

there’s just too much
hate and ignorance
in the world
can we start over,
with less television
and no government?

accelerated and degenerated
anarchy is such a lonely game
violated and renovated
could you help me quiet this hesitant voice
and dispel the curse of tuesday

searching recycled realities
for a tribe of creation
i want to kill this obsolescent servitude
inhaling new adventures
to renew the promise of the word
but
i don’t think today is a day for poetry
today is a day for
poverty, telemetry, and credibility
as the density of deformities unseen
crawl across a pallid mid-day sky

solitude is a salacious song
seeking to salivate
salvation and seduction
along a starry shore

tired of all the decay
we reach out like elastics
stretched too thin
toward the impossibility of
one passionate and final embrace