Dimensions Suspended

let us
wrap this timeless

in the crux
of a defiant embrace

fires of faceless

a deathless fear
giving chase

to gaze upon these
dimly scattered spectacles

hung marooned
ruins moored to a distant past

with each stilted second

the stoics standing
in between two endings

as our thoughts
entwine the skies as arabesque

the vice
that was your touch
yet wrests me

though hollow shells
suffice not
of its loss

when gods prove once again
their state of madness

the heavens will descend
into our grasp

eternity shall turn to find itself
in dimensions suspended

Sweet Thing

sweet tea
ain’t got nothin’ on you
when it’s steamin’ hot
your kisses keep me cool

sweet potatoes
i’ll see ya later!
i love ’em a lot
but not as much as you

revenge is sweet
they say
but darlin’
you’re still sweeter
this, ya best believe

home sweet home
only if you’re there
there ain’t much to it
if i’m all alone

short and sweet
is where it’s at
cuz darlin’
ain’t nobody got time for that!

sweet dreams
fallin’ from the heavens high
when comes the evenin’
and i close my eyes

[image credit: Louis Wain]

As I

i thought about writing
a suicide note

what it will say
if anything

to whom it will be addressed
if anyone

what each person will think
if anything

most people
will never find out

there is no cause for alarm

we are here

we are gone

i have no wish
to see the sun

i know what role this life permits me

only in death
is freedom found

i do not need to be remembered
to be free

. . .

i love you.

i love you like a dying star
loves a midnight sky
through eyes of innocence

the wrath of time’s restraint
it paints the moon
as i lay silent

casting off abandoned scars
and erstwhile sentiments unsung

in shadows of our truths untold

let me not spiral
into such hollow affectations

of this entropy transposed

so grave is its disparity
in remnants
left behind

written on walls
in exile unseen

to the aftermath

with nothing
to say

we languish
in our broken idyll

so duly run its course

as i

What Jesus Does

why is Jesus so obsessed
with taking off his shirt in public?

yes, we get the point, you’re hawt
and everyone on earth knows of this

i suspect it might involve
his recent passion for “manscaping”

ever since it started
it would seem the bathroom’s always taken

i don’t think he realizes
i can hear his clippers buzzing

surely, he must be aware
of all the errant remnant fuzzies

i always assumed that vanity was not
befitting of him

but i guess humanity
has turned him into what he wasn’t

dousing himself with exotic oils
that claim to be essential

donning denim cut-offs
and a righteous tan most evidential

spending all his time
down at the Gold’s gym in West Hollywood

if he wasn’t Jesus
i might think he was up to no good

i’m not sure, but every time the lepers call
he says he’s busy

even banking at the church
no longer gets him in a tizzy

perhaps the weirdest thing of all
i stumbled in on yesterday

as he was practicing some moves
to music sounding somewhat gay

of course, there’s nothing wrong with this
it’s just that i had no idea

though i might have guessed
when he suggested i could be his beard

really, it makes perfect sense
for such potential lies in all men

everybody knows just what the extra “f”
means next to “best friend”

no, i don’t mean cigarettes
but if you’re offering, i’ll take one

what i meant was fornicating
for it’s the human condition

Jesus, just like any man
is free to flaunt his epic body

and if he should choose to
hook-up with a slew of hirsute hotties

all the power to him
for this also is my main intention

next time Jesus goes to Rage
i think that i might have to join him

Poem for Bartleby

*[to be read in cutesy voice]

my lil’ mister

how u know
i need you so?

when i’ve reached
the very bottom

with no place to go

out of nowhere
like a flash

you dash upon my chest
and nuzzle

in complete surrender

tender love
to lift me up

beyond explanation

you can sense
my heart’s distress

such implicit understanding

speaks of secrets
held by stars

from that very first moment
your head popped through that broken screen

i knew you were more than special
how is u gon be dis cute?!

it defies all known convention
how you came to be right here

crashed out like a precious daydream
in my arms so peacefully

[pictured: Bartleby during the writing of this]


you didn’t click like

that’s all I needed
to know

forget the fact
that you might not
have seen it

that you might
be inundated
with the incessant burdens
of life’s duress

the fact
that life exists
for you
outside of myself

but most of all


that you
might not
have actually liked it

Out of Time

shards of sanity
scattered intermittently
across the glass-like surface

shades of unfamiliarity
fade into permanence

the strangest of our thoughts
condemned to feeling

only the past
remains unchanged

it is inconsequential

as words are

as they ever were

stinging our jaded eyes

with the distortions of our dreams

forever dangling
out of reach
and out of time


touching and relatable honest expression from my friend Howl Davies

The Sounds Inside

Sometimes I have bad days.

Sometimes I have bad weeks, sometimes bad months. Sometimes it lasts longer. I don’t question it any more, nor do I wish it didn’t happen. I can trace the first time I felt like this back to when I was twelve years old. My mother died when I was an infant, and my father remarried.  I was too young to have any memory of my mother, and believed my father’s second wife to be my mother. One day when I was twelve she disappeared. She left one day while I was at school. She left without a word. I lay in the bathtub for hours trying to work out why she did that.

I have been told by many doctors that I have severe depression, but being told that doesn’t really mean that much. When it is something that becomes a staple part of your existence…

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