Tired, Mad, Sobering

Television, oh God, stop!

Really, it's obnoxious.

Who was on the phone? Uh, just, later.

Where's the time gone? I had so much to do,

and then I had a few drinks.

Lazy fuck, or distracted- GOD!

I can't take the noise.

Toronto, fuck you.

Cement, queers, ugly

fucking

shoes,

go to hell.

This angry spill is...

angry!

Or should I be more articulate?

Something like,

if lips could touch the soul,

I'd kiss my sad rage into your heart,

breathe sorry for me into your mouth

and take

if lips could touch the soul,

I'd paint chapstick all over and

kiss/fix your cracked and swollen spirit

only to doubt you

And still, after all that,

the television is being an asshole.

Twisted Gut

"At my desk again, sick to my stomach with the self loathing of realizing I'm not achieving my full potential.

My peers don't inspire me, I react to their success with waves of nihilistic self-doubt; despair.

I need to share with someone wise the neuroses that hold me back.

I need a mentor who won't attempt to console me pathetically, who won't patronize me.

I need someone to tell me what to do."

Planets

You give me gifts

planets within

I have never been more grateful

to a woman, to a friend

for stars and planets collide after

millions of years of their dancing

love

and the space remembers everything

Irving jumpier

Irving Jumpier

strange man but always a friend

he left only his dark dark desk behind

and a broken pen

inkpot empty, miles deep

human mice were friends to keep

Irving Jumpier was a liar on paper but he spoke well

Perspective In Wheat Fields

Our home stands delicate and loved

weathered boards, splintered faces

a skeleton

coal grey skin, trembling fingers

the horses here only shiver now

our home breathes dusty air

the smell of hay and cool soil

on the road is Dog

my friend

he's getting on in years

the fence that runs our meadow hunches low now

sore backed, ragged

the wind and rain have beaten it down

so long now

and all this swims in the snowglobe in my mind while I think

only seventy generations we've come

seventy lives of seventy years

the trembling farmhouse doesn't seem so old anymore

Sleep Talk

Leave a man at the door leave hands in pockets

leave wishes and rose petal voodoo

leave smoke

leave more

Leave seven pm alone leave the ice cream cone torch bearer

golden lock, cherub cheek, ice-cream-cone-torch-bearer gift from god himself

leave the book and the thorn

Leave your heart of scorn

and leave your questions

Where I've been is nobody's mind

So leave mine

Inventory

I have

Sore thumbs,

No money,

A bit of a buzz,

A little love,

Tired friends,

Sirens,

Restless hands,

Tired eyes,

An empty glass,

Crossed legs,

Quiet vinyl,

1:30 on the clock,

Tired friends,

Not much time,

An urgent need to urinate,

Rum munchies,

A little love,

Sirens,

A heavy stomach,

Hunger

I've got

So much

To learn

15,000

I know what I want but I hate how I'm getting there.