for indiana (whomever you are)

i wish i knew
who from home
comes to see me
but
alas
they leave no word
just empty space.

rabbits for hats.

a whole pot of coffee
at 3 am
when he should be dreaming.

to wake him up
to keep him sleeping
to get these things done
that he doesn't need
(oh, but i beg to differ)

how does one sleep
how can one dream
when their arms are empty
as magicians sleeves?

oncoming.

opened his mouth
and figured out
he hadn't much to say
except everything was fine.
all of life was great.

(and if downhill came)
(he'd tilt his head back)
(keep perception the same)

temperpedia.

you can't take his blood pressure all the time
leave him shaking
eight inch needle in his spine
(wasn't supposed to feel a thing)
cap off the line
feed the "medicine" through
said yourself,
"don't think this is the right thing for you."
but here he sits
ghost pained like the bullet never left
the one you put in
el five
ess one.
the slow face is all part of the fun.
is this where your counterpart tells him
to pick up his eyelids again.
to sit through this bitterness.
caress the weakened parts.
fix this,
why don't you?
fix this.

for servitudes grasp.

how strong,
atlas,
at last alone with you.
set that burden down
stamp that burning out
it almost feels all better
like an unstitched scarlet letter
and the dances
and hands through your fences
could just come back to her.

sideways beating.

the serviced vassal
had come for tomorrow
the one promised yesterday morning
the one that's never coming
shook it's fist at the heavens
let loose a laugh
(as if that mattered)
head down
shoulders slumbered
eyes full of something
it would not tell
but it's heart...

7:25 pst

couldn't see the sunset
only the reflection of it
some sad rendition
that wasn't what it should have been
like all this
the misfit
missed it
couldn't stop revolve
long enough to loft self high enough
to actually see
the thing that always beckons me.

for the insomniac.

he only thought of good things
who he is and where he'll be
eventually.
when keel strikes neutral
and the climb is coming
all invested and advantageous
all on top of the worlding.

the bottom isn't fair
and exhaustion bites deep
but the come-uppance that's due
will build him a keep
somewhere quite safe
to finally sleep.

street of walls

sans despair
a quarter of an inch from there
still looking at timelines
creating large gestures
and promoting bi-lines
futures of futures
i hold stock on this ledger
something good just outside here
some great epiphany near.

the bank herein.

you encumber this situation
you created
your debt
your initiation
as i i'll no longer
fill in the holes you create
fasten the eyes you dialate

these molten trenches
these wobbling benches
you hide in and seek comfort on
you try to wave a magic wand
for some great genius i am not
to carry you on
to sprinkle dust and find wealth
to save yourselves
to keep good health
without making due
without realising the truth

you are doormats of your own volition
no one else caused this situation
and i'll not be the gravekeeper
or caretaker of lost appropriations
any longer
find your own voices
grow up
take on the consequences.

borrowed time

i see your inaction
and contemplate so tenderly my counter
to dissuade explosions
and harsh irrationals
to topple giants in their slumber
and walk away unscathed
not to sit by idle
not to ever dwadle
and confuse said heathens
from knowing their worthless situation
self-created
embracing the magics of the lazy
to find a coma without trying
to stay inside unless someone else is paying
and i do not forgive this.