aside over soliloquy

Something inside me 
used to be angry; 
I gnawed off it. 
Something to listen to
on the way to everywhere - 
nod with it. 
Some pills that
spilt over my bedside
nodding off them. 
Every now and then
I don’t hate myself,
but not often. 

Flash - 
the lightning grumbles. 
Crash -
my thoughts crumble. 
Something inside me 
remembers the toast,
shit,
I'm not with it.

down

I catch myself wanting

to break this bottle
over the teeth
of the fence directly left -
to sit and cry
a little,
but I’d just go back in
and buy another.
Also, I gave up crying
for lent,
permanently.
Hit one on the first floor,
because my muscle memory
says, “down.”
Have I really become so afraid
of intimacy that I’d sabotage
anything resembling
just so I could go get let
down.
How that bell rings
around my head:
You have it in you to die,
coward,
but not to live.
You’re lucky my guilt
outweighs my disgust.

No Shows

Nah that’s cool,
shrugging lazily
and only half joking. 
Several seconds pass,
many long-winded
metaphors, and
eight god damn
whiskey sours later....

Like eating grapes 
off the vine. It
tastes less enjoyable, 
but overwhelmingly
natural. 
Like a coke dealer on 
a netflix binge:
three days with no sale,
in love with the 80’s,
pass the ice. 

I spent that time
listening
for someone to yell,
“Stop!”
Dispassionately poised
for an assault on
my character
to my back
and everything else 
to my face. 
Nothing happened,
but dammit beg,
for the question you
already know:
the fleeing happiness,
asking instead
for accomplishment
and society’s benefit.

h i h

Now and then?  
More like: 

all the time,

everywhere,

all at once. 

That sounds like
the most British thing 
I've heard.
The only thing, 
honest, 
and you should be
honest.
 
Tell me how to get
there
and I swear to you,
by sould,
by blood,
by iron,
we leave. 

Well, did you find
a bowl or not?
Have you lost your mind?
Your head sloshes
full of soup.
Consider that,
your eye 
half eaten by the falcon,
Horus.  
Maggots wriggling about
the lens - 
have you no shame? 
Nothing to see here,
not since I lost my eye,
after all. 

While In

Subverting patience
one expectation at a time.
I like to weaponize 
existentialism - 
it’s my kink.
I don’t even like the music,
I just know you
like me for listening. 
What a ball,
a beautiful wedding. 
So pulls the oxen 
on cart. 

Pardon me a moment
while I spiral 
out of control here. 

Tri Cyclic

I did nothing
but watch
helpless
as the young
of my generation,
the gifted
and beautiful,
trapped themselves
in the same 
dead ends 
we hated the old
for wasting their
lives on.

I’m sorry. 

Welcoming

From birth
your time, 
they say,
will come.

Your family 
excited,
the papers,
you sign.
Guns flare. 

The uncles, 
the grandads,
the fathers - 
those left - 
they say, 
your time 
will come.

You sign,
they cheer,
you fight,
they boo.
Your war 
will come.