between the contrast
defining the moon

a face
e’er blazoned
to man

and unseen

and garish

is not
what it seems


some days
we long to be killed
more than others

to save us
from spilling
our secretive druthers

in rum-soaked confessions
to loathsome ex-lovers

or nameless encounters
with strangers uncovered

shamelessly asking for help
from our mothers

whose salt stings the wounds
from the womb to the gutter

whose ruinous choices
left pagans to shudder

impetuous voicings
so flagrantly uttered

lugubrious lamentations
seethe and smother

you see
i have neither the will
nor the the wanting

to languish in suffering
ever so daunting

i rather prefer
to bestir to the coffin

and slough this infernal coil
right the fuck off then!

[image credit: Edward Honaker]

Great Big World*

my front door

lies a great
big world

more vast
than is humanly

a veritable cornucopia
of prospect propitious
and liberty endless

with untold
and infinite possibility

for me

to swiftly
and precisely

my ultimate



ere i walked the shadows
of a shameless life eschewed
i sometimes talked for hours
on the telephone
’tis true

attending to the inbox
which would hold my correspondence
until one day i stopped
having become too despondent

seven years have come and gone
and still i have not looked
nor listened to my messages
not even on facebook

this plague pervades
most every aspect
of my adult years
i since have lost the respect
of my family and peers

for they can’t see the reasons
nor the logic of my plight
its tragedy is lost
amid the inference of their slight

presuming that it must be
that they’ve somehow drawn my ire
some say i’m maladjusted
others think i have retired

i cannot help but panic
upon hearing rings and tones
instilling in me frantic feelings
reeling in my home

truth be told i have disabled
every last alarm
and push notification
for they only cause me harm

and should you try to reach out
with an intention to touch
you’ll not invade this redoubt
that has long since been my crutch

and if you are to know me
then you first must understand
even if you are the homie
you can talk to your own hand

Cloak of Fear

like a secondary
of vitreous flesh

huddled masses

in layers
of fragile

like a renegade

with masochistic

every failure

to impale
verity’s parables


I Hazard to Ponder

fragments of lovers
burned fast
fall to ash
in this charcoaled heap
that lay afoot

this exterior
by the nails
of their failings

but none can impale

for I only have lived
in the aftermath
of a restless memory

forged in a dream

i hazard to ponder

if love had ever surpassed
the scorching
of this insolent soul.

but all I have

is mounds of

the sea now beckons
the sanctity of sleep
on her floor
of forgiving

through this channel of tears
from sorrows impounded


that’s what they
call it

the truth
is that i’m terrified

out of my wits

of the horrors
that await

in the unknown
of uncertainty

where all of my dreams
go to die

the term

to me

the only thing
i so desperately wish
to avoid

is this

Solitude’s Descent

the struggle
to release my fears
from shackled shrills
of obscene silence

pulling further
down with every second

thought since spent

vile undertows
that know me well

spell out this hell
in heavy throes
where phantom prose
commiserates lament

each word
wafts ever wayward
in dissociative dimensions

obscured by the illusion
borne of urgency

enthralled by conscious calls
of a conspicuous collusion

that subdivide the lies
my conscience cries
to stay afloat

that i require
the fundamental sating
trapped in spurned epistles

e’er belies
what blissfully denies
my ignorance

which writhes on
muted shores

hopelessly exiled

as i succumb
to numbness

of my solitude’s descent

Existential Impostor


there must be some mistake

perhaps i wandered into
into the incorrect building

you see
i am quite simply not
qualified to be

these are neither my peers
nor my contemporaries

i am not in league
with such capable beings

there is no chance
for me
to ever hope to function
at this level

being of sound
heart and mind

this mindful awareness
has impaired me
in more ways
than i ever dare to fathom

my head
so heavy

no sooner can i
lift it from its feathered wrest
than i can
untether from this tempest
of everyday duress

it seems i have unwittingly
piqued gravity’s good will

for it bears down upon me
with the burden of all the heavens

it is such
that i must conclude
the nature of this vaunted god
is that of something wanton

Ode to Pills

Them: “Stop complaining! All you need to do is to pick yourself up by your bootstraps!

It’s all in your head!”
Me: “?!? No. You don’t seem to understand. Some people don’t have bootstraps, some

don’t have boots, some don’t have feet, some don’t have legs…”

~little pills are my pals
when my life begins to fail
and i fall off the trail
as the entropy prevails
give me doses composed
in the golden ratio
sans acetaminophen
chock full of hydrocodone
on second thought, i’ll forgo
opiates not fit for rogues
oxycontin i want now
80mg green and round
chewy bits of heaven sent
to render me relevant
granting me everything
such as basic functioning
so that i may exist
as more than a listless void
in the languid abyss
so complicitly adroit
what was one small step for a man
is one giant leap from the pits
stepping into the life
that e’er eluded invalids
for you see, pills are power
pixellated fire flowers
or a box labled POW
so that you become the now
like a Cylon equipped
with regeneration ship
like Picard on respite
in a scant Risa tunic
Larry David when imbued
as a Gentile not a Jew
it’s the feeling of the Bern
when all hope has since been spurned
for you see, it’s never just
dust one simply needs to brush
it’s depression so deep
impressing upon our sleep
where we find no escape
ever looming is our fate
wracked with pain, guilt, and fear
falling only on deaf ears
once again, i assert
though eternal is this hurt
it is such that i will
trade my kingdom for some pills~