SOB

Absent minded....
That's what you claimed to be,
But you were the only one I cared to see.
I made great effort to make our friendship so rich,
But you plundered it away...
You son of a bitch!

Don't get me wrong,
I am not bitter
But I'm not here to be your babysitter.
Codal me...ohh I'm so upset
And express that you would rather experience regret.
You caused me to love you,
Then threw me in the ditch...
I can't stand you anymore,
You son of a bitch!!!

Ahhh but isn't there a fine line between love and hate?
Even now since you have a stale old mate.
I really resent this frequent heartache.
Wish you'd disappear off the planet for Christ's sake!
Maybe your relationship will suffer from a 5 month itch...
What the hell am I saying?!
You son of a bitch!!

Let me explain friends, I am not dumb.
But I find myself caring for a loser,
And then drinking a fifth of rum!
Then I sit I'll witted,
And type romantic texts...
Wondering what the hell is going to happen next.
As I lay awake at night, my eyeballs twitch.
Well good morning to me, you son of a bitch!!

Now emotional due to a lack of sleep,
I planted seeds I so desperately wanted to reap.
You stomped them out before I had a chance...
So I deal with the pain by doing a drunken dance.
I could still offer you an enticing pitch...
What's the use, you son of a bitch!!

Let's pretend we can just be friends.
Tie up the gossip, and mend these frayed hurtful ends...
Wait, I'll show up at your door not wearing a stitch!!
Shit! You're not home!
You son of a bitch!!

I can't do this anymore-
OK, you win!
Even though caring about you is my horrible sin.
I suppose as long as you're happy,
I'll force myself to walk away...
Being extremely careful and keeping my emotions at bay.
Still, I'm sure if you called me I'd return without a hitch.
Wasting away here in insanity,
You son of a bitch!

The Travesty

If self destruction
ever had a path
it was the one travesty walked on.
Within his blurred vision
and flip-flopping
stood everything
he knew in his conscious,
but deliberate explosions,
and misfired cannons
layed him still.
Staring at the sky-
he asked me why
the night can be so dark
in some places.

Oh My Breath

Oh my breath...
There's never as yawn that completely releases me.
The heart pounds at night.
As merciless as the two faced companion.
Dare I indulge?
There's never a compromise.

You make the heart so undeniably heavy.
I want to rest but I carry a heart of stone.
It does not beat on...
It pounds on.
This requires pronounced excursion.
Inhale, exhale...
You're in my damn veins,
intertwining and vibrating
every spare second,
and every inch of skin
until tears begin to fill
and I scream
STOP!

I just realized again
that you are not here.
All day long I try to remove you
with a series of sighs
as I repeat a prayer in your name.

It's a sacred moment-
already on my knees
and feeling like a a martyr.
Here is the mantra:

Oh my breath.

Memory Charter

Memory is a charter.
Thoughts of you send me so far
beyond logical thought.
I try to go though this process quickly.
Pick me up at the corner of
satire and appetence.
I'll be waiting.

Will we be the same
if I hitch hike with
nominees of reckless
gusto?...
Ravaged insurgents?
Unworthy wardens?
The ground could open up
and swallow me whole.
I'd like to drive this storm.
Let the rain gently kiss your face.

If I focus now
so intently
in motion of
these emotions
perchance there will be..
a prompt change of scenery.
I think I am out of fuel.
I don't seem to be going anywhere.

Drop off the demeanor
and lift this dress.
It's been a long tour in this dialogue..
but if words cajole your departure
grab hold of something and
hold on tight.
You're in for one hell of a ride.

Theodicy

Tell me your destination

in cracked rubble,

and sulfuric ash.

Platonic theodicy

is a seat

thorned and corrosive

spewing out dust,

and variantly lopsided of musings.

Past and present.

Send me staggering:

As we fumble-

As we scramble-

As we doddle-

through uncertainty.

I lay my head upon your chest,

and ask you...

why?

Will it ever be undone...

as eager caresses

have been shunned,

but my heart

held an image.

I'll close my eyes,

and wish to see something new.

Hammock in The Attic

Let me sway.
Flight feature:
as gravity releases
a gentle tug.
Among rafters and beams
my slumber swing
flew in a tiny attic
graced with steamer trunks
and bad paintings of fishermen
who seemed to stare
as darkness began to fall.
At this moment
everything in the world
slipped away.
Winds outside were
felt right above my head,
as the train less than a mile away
drummed onward
sounding like a rising rollercoaster.
Don't let me fall,
as the waves of tension
to be visited
felt like
heretics and holy men
behind a tightly shut door.
In the state I'm in
falling from grace
took only the slightest push.
I wisely sigh,
try to smile,
and grab a rafter.
Shove off the rooftop-
two boards thick.
The vibration of rain
tapped slowly above my head.
The hammock in the attic:
my grungy romantic seance
of this bohemian thought to be dead,
in the attic:
a bit slanted
and obtrusively incoherent
even when all of the houses on this street were built the same.
One holds a playwright,
one has only junk,
but this one has someone looking for home.

Splinter

Old structures can be rough:

You may want to change your mind about running your hand across that surface.

It was built with weathered wood and I loved it's history.

For a while, I thought about how nice it would be to hold some without grasping it.

Just a little sliver.

A fragment despite sweat and tears.

If there was such a thing as a good hurt

I planned it.

A palm reader asked me, "How long have you carried this splinter?".

I figured as long as it takes for me to see there's an infection.

A swollen infraction was always cramming nonsense in wounds.

The hand rises

puffy and red...

Lines expand and create caverns..

A certain splinter destined in a path of a thousand wooden particles.

Push it out.

That can't be there.

It felt like a dagger

that wouldn't kill me already.

So deep and irritating.

Annoyance on any decent day.

Where a vague, dull pointed fitting

jammed into pale skin.

With time, it all heals over

and when it does

all the discomfort

all the vexation 

clears.

Maybe my head was filled with sawdust,

but from now on I will carry sandpaper.

Because for disturbances to be lodged so deeply

in a body that frequently feels pain

reminds me that in order to build a happy life

we shouldn't be so careless

during construction.