the asymmetrical face

August 30th, 2014 @ 1:19 AM

help me, i’m adrift
with no debris to aid
or face to recognize.

sir! sir!
(brushed away with the paddle)
man over-
the exclamation gurggled out.

i was a drifter, alone
in a sea of shopping carts
and rusted highway signs.

i came upon two signs.
in each i could see
either side of my face.
i recognized one –
not the other staring back.

i mean i saw the other
then looked in the opposite.
i knew the latter, but
…they’re both strange.
i can’t know myself like this.

futility of being

February 1st, 2014 @ 10:43 AM

i was a drop of water
and you were a sponge
bloated with my insecurities
and weighted down by
the futility of my being.

what was added never brought happiness
or cleansed the weathered flesh
of the decay and filth i brought.

wring me out into a bucket
to make yourself pure again,
and i will evaporate at the edges
where i will be forced to breathe
no more with the dirt which cakes
itself inside: a lonely circle

where the sediment is all that remains
of what the droplet, the essence
of my being, once offered.

f r w l

January 24th, 2014 @ 7:47 AM

i once lived.
          as things that once lived must die, i died.
  that ephemeral moment
which cannot be realized in life
is bound by mortality.

planets i never knew have crumbled,
                turned to dust.
giant balls of gas and rock
          explode and are absorbed
into this vast nothing.

i could never go supernova
   before i had died.
i was never that beautiful,
there wasn’t a molecule of me
          that made something worthy
of this wondrous universe.

while it continues to expand,
i will sit within.
  waiting to fade…

the box

July 1st, 2013 @ 4:38 AM

there is a life.
it is your life.
you will live it.

there is a box.
it is your box.
you are inside it.

all the beauty of the world
passes you by, and you can
admire it. see it. sometimes feel it.

but you can never be part of it.
everything you experience is affected
by your situation, the disconnection
from the world by that box.

so it seems
this isn’t

if you could just pull the staples out
the box would come apart.

then you would be free
to fall prey
to more confusion.

The doubts of self eclipse my thinking mind

November 14th, 2012 @ 10:39 AM

The doubts of self eclipse my thinking mind
as quicker I find myself without use,
and I’m misled by thoughts of ev’ry kind.
These doubts are those which I should seek to lose,
yet my dreams are spurned with nightmares of shame.
A functioning mind is all I desire
to rediscover comfort in my name
from which I have often wished to retire.
But who, in this life, would I rather be?
Surely ‘tis not life itself which I dread,
for I would not speak so insistently
of the pains in my doubt or in my head.
Though as no one else would I then exist,
as my pitiful life I would greatly miss.

a life to not be lived

September 7th, 2012 @ 8:08 PM

pleated khakis,
a polo shirt.
top button
left unbuttoned.

bowel movements
at regular intervals
per 24-hour period.

attempting to hide
the wrinkles
at the corners of your mouth.

a straight line
over chapped lips
to determine the manner

which is best suited
for a serious man
such as yourself.

but evidence from
your childhood
of smiles and

contortions in the face
suggesting amusement

proclaim this posture
is a pretense
developed for a life
to not be lived.

ode to the canal

September 7th, 2012 @ 8:04 PM


    now i’m breaking

the fourth wall,

it was bullshit.
whether we’re starting
or finishing, we’re in
the same place. here.

now, then,

that’s all there is.
being and nothing

starts with a journey
through the canal -

with a seal over
the ground.

comfort gaps

September 7th, 2012 @ 7:59 PM

a firefly flickers
like a tiny life
on a magnificent line.
an era, a pinprick,
in a vast, dusking

sky which appears to fold
at the horizon, meeting
an expanse of calm water.

creating the illusion
of a wall, a partition,
this moment can be pictured:
calm, serene perhaps.
this world we have stitched

together, securing the chaotic
exterior which lies beyond.
the baby in the treetop
waiting to fall
into the calm, the waters

which run deep enough
to uproot the stitching
which binds us all,
and brings about a levity
mounting the pressure
to break through
the partition, bridging a gap

generational, cultural,

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