six years and counting
it’s a trick of the mind
to scratch and scrape
through slow time
with short sight
it’s always an empty fight
so forget this caustic crime
as we embrace a shifting paradigm
stranded and left to reveal
hearts wasted
in the moments we steal
despite popular opinion
poetry is not for humans
with soft hearts
it is for men (and women)
who are tired of the cold game
on a good day
we discard holy bottle caps
and spill glasses of red emotion
upon quiet and empty floors
as fate falls
on forest fires
of fantastic fatality
thumbs up
or
thumbs down
either way
middle fingers are
raised high
as we declassify
this alien sign
it is now a fragmented frequency
held in predictable delinquency
as sidewalks stretch
toward starving seduction
and in these vacuous evenings
we sit with eyes glazed
and pens slanted
towards second sight
in the dim light
of this absent illness
for there is little imagination
left in this shadowy flight
burning the nose
to keep me on my toes
pretending to structure
a silent and heavy prose
while dreaming of
adventures and decadent hoes
i wish this fevered desire
could produce
something beyond
a temporary exclamation
as labored love stories
are torn apart at the seams
and the omission of
machine-gun moonbeams
lure me towards
possessive
and obsessive dreams
overpower and devour
this communication
that is stiff and sour
carried on contested currents
in the shadow of silent flowers
i’m drinking gluten free beer
and pretending that tomorrow
is just another excuse
for standard living
it’s a wrong turn
on the right path
wired and writing
abstract math
as careless cats
caress in playful harmony
i love the sound of ghostly pianos
on a strange northeastern night
trying to recall
the number of heaven
as i swallow soft bursts
of generic smoke
embracing the magic
of literary humanity
words remember words
in this drowsy moment of insanity
waiting to release us
from our perpetual
and nervous profanity
it’s hump day
and eleven eleven
so make a wish and pray
that the stars align
and distant minds disobey
embracing cryptic foreplay
of an ancient screenplay
because 2020 has been
one hell of a year
