Compartments

It's not your fault. 
You live in a
cardboard shanty town,
a little box,
in my head
alongside everyone else.

The Final Rising

“Here lies a man
who laughed at everything,”
a speckled, gray stone declared.
The name “Ulta Mareis”
sunk into its brow.
“Even his own pain,”
a woeful voice agreed.
Faceless and gowned in black,
uproarious laughter broke through
solemnity
as they dropped their flowers.
Loudest and highest of all,
when the last rose
found its resting place;
Ulta Mareis gave his last laugh.

Another Compromise

Awakening on its journey,
a smell of slight decay.
Leaves sloughing from the canopy. 
A zombie losing the safe promise
of summer fruits.
Scurry and hurry to the beat
of a sacred, albeit fatalistic, 
yearly routine.
Close to where we started,
but no less sweet to see,
the two by two's; the families; 
their long sleeves

better, then

a cherished few return 

Friend, I’m sorry, what even happened? Tolerable enough that "hey" would do.

like a boomerang

I cannot stay, only come back. Tell me what you need. A wax figure constant to the flame. How do you see fit?

picking cherries out of life

Husks on the ground, a shell of a man. The kernels rotten, ugly and obscene.

Filthy

Leave your scrap.

I am the excrement of the world. 
I crawl to the edge of the trash pile,
salt it with earth
and devour. 

Leave your disgust.

I am the crazy you loathe
and the strange you fear.
I sing platitudes 
like a skipped record, 
scratching the cliff holds for dear life.

Lay me in the dirt.

I suffocate there 
thousands of years
watching the strata pass.

Cast me your stones

and throw me in the pit. 
Belabor your glorious effort
at my humble expense. 
If all else fails, 

burn the witch. 

Close Your Eyes, Passerby

Close your eyes:
A tortuous path ‘round leaves,
a smoky inhale,
an acrid, honey exhale
smiling sweet in the pane.
It’s nice, they say,
when your eyes open
and that place you stay...

The ocean at the end
of the lane, 
out there.
Quietly waiting
with the sun, we stare. 

Digging my own grave
inside a bottle of Jack.
Living life worth leaving
and it ain’t half bad.
Kill me with a smile;
never take it back. 

Don’t know what’s waiting,
passing through trees out there.
A hazy, white wolf 
with a welcome-home glare. 

A knock at my soul
hello to the ones who stay.
Chilling with my friends
fuck the rest away.