sitting here
at the beginning
of the end of the world
beer drunk
and quietly in love
with all the things
that cannot be
soft music
resets a restless tone
as i light
the last american spirit
and let my fingers wander
over this dusty black keyboard
broadcasting the intensity
of anger and hope
as neglected hammers
search for rejected nails
and somewhere
wandering dreams
cry for release

the older i get
the more i appreciate
the quiet times
anxiously mindful
and careful not to drift
into that soft depression
that lures you
like a fish to a worm
cats and capricious cadences
are my only guide
as i slide into
an uncertain mood
hollow, and ready for
a storm of consequence
and craftsmanship

i want to be someone else
if only for a spell
i want to sell
dynamic rhythms
to the misled masses
short and driven by a dull intensity
as i manipulate dials
of background communication
waiting for patterns
and paper hearts
to shuffle and undress
our misdirections
and lonely indiscretions

incomplete and infinite
we circle the sun
for a powerful kill
and remember to take a chance
on that one moment
of disordered perfection