Category: Poetry
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Censor me still-lifetake my Tomah Graphswimming in the Hollywood Holiday Inn poolnow drowning in a pool of my ownpainful frustrations and jittersuninvited guests in the gray of nightthis brain hurts like cinema for Alexhave another stick of chewing gumanother stick of dynamite to ease the griefyou so gallantly feel at…
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An anguished chill hurts the night kingthe moans of traffic dissect the interstatelonely bellows of travelers of midnight passageand me, well meI don’t really even know where I am, who I am, why I amsome windy, flattened palaceof stone and glass and flickering neonand I a statue filled with blood…
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When you want to be someonebut no one knows who you really arewhen you’re living in the wormthat lives in your own bellydrinking dirtand eating poison winecrying to livelaughing to dieand everything insidevanishesand you feel likeyou’re living in a Neverlandwith a never hatand a never coatand you’ve spent every dime…
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There is this guy seewho lives upstairs from mehe’s the weird upstairs walking guywalks and walksbut he never says hi – until today he looked disheveled and bruisedhair all a musstoting a bank bag full of moneyand I’m wondering what all the walking is forfloor to floorhe walks and walkstill…
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There’s this long line of darkness on the other side of day I stand there listening to the starless sky flow like Styx There’s that smooth dome of light pollution Pulsing like an orange Creamsicle Never sleeping, always dripping Like childhood summer sun And all above it, that starless sky…
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CEREAL AFTER SEX 