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.

(un)punctual purgatory

shutters closed quickly
revolving enabling
oh, suppose that
the decadence is overwhelming
alzheimers and acid
a truce wagered against it
for collapsing on comfort
a lost endeavor
a tired misnomer
and could it keep forgiving
atlas' displacement of heavenly structure
has imperviousness found seed
in worn demeanor
will quicksand spew forth from features
to sink the emitter
drown in insomnia
and sleep forever

assimilated.

six hours of uneasy sleep later
burnt by nightmares
of embraces with a patting hand
before leaving with another man
looking down at those feet again
hearts will live
and life will land
cannnnnnnot stand
face caved-in
cannnnnnnot swim
can't not swim
hold the head up instead
move on from illusions
try to forget this.

indian giver.

he listened to his rasp
sounding lost and somewhat dead
and wondered at his sending it anywhere
let alone there
as it would only
depress tongues
that otherwise would speak
made him wonder
gaped his mouth
ready for plunder.

(keep ears closed)
(do not listen)
(find the trash)
(and throw it in)

track 3 (colors_collapse "have you seen...")

you could have expired the sun
worn out it's gases and moved on
but you laid down your guns
and walked away as though you'd won
then reasoned the epiphany
of prometheus struggling
filled his heart with bumblebees
and finally quit pushing

if you don't mind the smell
the rancor
of this slow death
(i'd not mind one bit)
if you stayed here
'til the sun sets on me
until the sun sets on me.

track two (colors_collapse - "have you seen...")

the future has become some joke,
some little giggle for someone-
who is not me-
to have.
the knuckles in my back,
the healthy young man
that i somehow lost...
how did this young man
come to be so goddamned old?
how did this young man
come to be so goddamned old?
ask how.

i'm hardly a man
or what one's supposed to be.
all you'll gets
what's left of me.
the jargon-filled soliloquy.
a hermit full of infamy.
inward notoriety.

his fingers only slightly stained
from tar and wondering
and rubbing his eyes clean
of all hope and sodomy
and wishing you well.
wishing you well.

it's not that i can't stand-
but god has played a trick on me.
broken my back beautifully.
but some day soon,
i promise you.
wake up.
(i'll wake up)

smiling is nice and all...

but what happens
to those smiles in the dark
when the sun finally comes out
the avians crying murder
the rush of the human disaster
who stops to notice
in the asymmetry
and remembers that they
are supposed to be living

if i could reconcile all i did.

if i could fantasize or make this right
metabolise the deceit and once again
open my eyes...
convince you this was fixed,
that you could love or trust me again,
that i didn't have to feel dead within.
maybe find a way to trust me again.
if.

he had a heart
and betrayed it.
thought he knew himself
and obviously didn't.
three-quarters empty and completely dumbfounded.
only mattered when it was forgotten.

like a rock

his only reasons came
to him in his sleep
his only feeling wore
holes in his feet
if there were triumphs
he kept them all discreet

there should be laughter here
but the brackets rattled loose
and the corners of that smile fell down
it's fleece all tattered
skin all windburned
warmth halfway to extinct
and swirling down the sink.

heckling the deaf.

the gaze was lost and empty
all hands on canes
not for the beating
all is quite tame.

matches and lights his martyr
all disrupted dreams
to push away that someone
he doesn't want to be.

seconds all of hours
silence in his sleep
crippled here no longer
to vanquish these rotten things.