I Have Demons To Slay

Anyone else
dream of pleasant,
I have sixteen recurring.
Or maybe it’s
five hundred eighty-seven.
Or maybe it’s,
like I’ve been told,
zero, de jure.
I want the things I dream of.
I’m tired of hazy constructions
interfering with my sleep.

I fall asleep sometimes
and forget my pillows are…
pillows and imagine
something softer
and much
It’s at times like this
I curl into myself-
panicking slightly-
take deep breaths,
and dream of words.

The Truth

My desire to demand you
is countered by reality.
By what’s conceivable-
by inhibition.
But I do want to.
I want all of you,

1:10 AM

The clock says one
and you are two oh six
and nothing
is a good idea right now.

I think it’s time for sleep.

And when the sun comes up
everything will be bright again.
Paths clearer-
or at least as they were.

This Fire

When Paula Cole
sings your theme
and it’s twenty-thirteen
and you’re a man
(though that isn’t really the point-
that being, who remembers
Paula Cole at all,
much less twenty six year old men
one point five decades later?)
something is awry.

The Push

Overwhelm me.
Take this tide you bring
and rush it
to the edge of my sanity.

Knock me over.
Fly me, without wings,
into the perilous blue
beyond the ridge.

The power in you
surges forward
and my desire
is to be swept away.

Faulty Wiring

I am easily found
at that junction
where rage precludes grammar
and playing C minor
E minor
C minor
E minor
(with a line over the fraction)
like a great idea.
Lost in this
Irritable Wonder(less)land
and trying to find myself
in the magic of looped thought.
I should have taken a nap.


Dead low-
low as it is possible
for me to go.
Can’t keep burning eyes
open without motivation
can’t close tired eyes
in muggy heat
no matter what the fans say.

You and I
see the sky the same day
and I see grey while you see blue
and that is the difference
between you and I.

I Just Can’t Get Enough

I saw today
a writhing sea
and every one
than anything
I deem myself
capable of.
When you discover,
once and for all,
how less-than-average
you truly are…
you really shouldn’t
listen to dead music
next to a railing.

Military Commands Are Awful

this is my addiction.
The probing,
the stimulation.
And here I come down,
sliding back down
into the abyss
with whiskey and television.
Withdrawals, I guess.
Party on.

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