Carpe Diem

I take another step as my ankle
Deformed, screams up my leg and
Into my back.
The world is comfortable with itself
But I am antagonistic.
Caustic
And crawling in my own skin.
There is a fat woman
Seventy five pounds to jiggle
Jogging
As I see her she is wearing a too tight t-shirt
Black and with white writing that
Stripes "CARPE DIEM" across her tits,
Both of which are quite a bit larger than my head.

What an upbeat sentiment
To go up and down
Up and down
Down and up
And up and down
I've walked past her now
Trying my best not to stare.

Oh and now a couple cross country skiing
On the side walk.
And they have all the poles, finery and layers but
Without any snow at all.

Why
Why
Why.

WHY.

Wellwishing

The wolves howl outside
And I, in here.

Its the dead of morning.
The red eye stutter brained moments
Wherein I would sleep,
But for the thoughts of you.

You are,
Or I hope you are
Lounging magnificently
Drool or no,

Or no-
You are beautiful and
At peace,
Without the demons and
Blistery things prodding.

I hope you are.

I think the only thing,
More important to me
Than for me to make you
Happy and at peace,
Is that,

Regardless of it all,
You are happy,
And at peace.

I think I want just
One of us,
To be so.

Cheers girly and,
Your,
Slow smile.

Oh Benighted Imbecile

What else remains when
In awe of it all
On the streets of a golden city,
All you find you can do
Is sputter inanities?

The egg keeps dripping.
Will the last drops ever leave
Your face,
After you smashed it
In so cavalier a manner?

The city falls to ruins
As its structure becomes awkward,
Leaving you to wander the wastes.
Will you be surprised the next time
You shatter paradise?

The Forest Through the Trees

Okay so I couldn't see
The ground through the clouds
And I can't
Read tomorrow like a book,

But,

A beautiful girl with
Olive skin and
Black satin eyes
Served me sweet drinks with a
Slight and sexy smile,
As I sat in a chair
Hundreds of feet above the ground,
Going hundreds of
Kilometers per hour.

Your vision of god
In the text,
Has nothing on me
In the text.

This gestalt juggernaught,
There is wonder in the winged giant
Of steel knowledge piled upon by
The work of our sleeping sisters,
Brothers, mothers and fathers.
But we are far too used to
Living and dying,
All on their shoulders.


And you just don't know
How far down the ground is,
Through the clouds.

Wobble Wobble

My life's a spinning top
Pretty in the
Blended colours and
Kind of neat to hear
Me whirl on the table.

But I need to move faster,
Every second passing I
Need to become more impossible
Or else I'll fall
And you'll move

To play with something else.

Storm Clouds

There's a storm brewing
Somewhere between the pavement
And my feet as I drag them.
The friction burns
Wears down and
Strips away everything
To the bones
Marrow and through.

There's nothing left
In this sea of inadequacy
And I am but a pale
Lie of a man
A form without function
Collared refuse to be
Shovelled over shoulder
With all the white trash.

I am the empty bottle
That houses lightning.
I am nothing of substance
But violence
That disperses only
Through the simplest of routes
To rest in the ground.

Let the thunder come after
Echo through the skies
Knocking the birds from their heaven
Let it flatten every forest
Knock you from your feet,
Shatter every window
Deafen every ear.

Leaving only silence in its wake
And a ringing that cuts
Like razors caught deep
In your meat.

Cigar Ash

My eyes are bloodshot
As morning peaks through
The blinds again.
I sit listening to the music
Of dead men and pretentious women
And I realize that
The only death that excites me
Is the one you offer
As you step backwards
And beckon.

So beckon
Draw me in past the old tastes of
Liquour and plaque caked to yellow.
Past five days of stubble
And bruisy bags under the eyes.
Past the rotten mundanities
Of only living.