writer

The Lingering You

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always swimming around in my head

making wave after wave

the anchor has been set

your stay was short

but the reverb crashes on

a slow drift in a bemusing heartache

but that’s ok

lucky to have set sail at all

if only for a moment

never even met you

but I certainly knew you

please keep swimming

makes it easier to wade in the dream

at least I can hold your hand there

The Voice In Your Dread

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Call off the dogs already, Genius

Take your foot off the pedal

Self-sabotage doesn’t have to be your thing

But hey, it was a good little run you had there

Tested waters while you tempted fate

It’s OK to feel like a fool

Foolishness has always been your platform, for better or worse

But did you really need to venture down in that well?

What exactly was your endgame there?

What did you think was gonna happen?

Nobody can play you like you play yourself

And you just love that fucking game

Glutton for punishment by choice

Because you have to feel every now and again

You should learn to fear something other than yourself

Maybe some trepidation would keep your heart in check

But no, the daredevil has to perform

Back into the belly of the very trauma you were born out of

You know you’re stronger than that

But grey has always been the preferred shade

Beating yourself up still counts as a win

Oh, forgive me

I’m talking to myself again

Who Invited The Pragmatic Sonofabitch?

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You’re back

And I get it

I’m aware of the situation

After all, our business is still half yours

Just didn’t see you coming

I guess I thought you were long lost

Adrift in the impressions of a blurry decade

Sailing away from dispirited reverie

Safe housed and concealed from this other disasterpiece

Yet, here you are

Staring a hole of candor through my muddled head

A fated face off

A dualistic showdown

A brawl for it all

But I’m not gonna come out swinging, no

“No más.”

You don’t have to beat it into me

I know exactly why you’re here

I know exactly where I need to be

All These Onomatopoeias Are Trying To Write Their Own Story

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BAM!

Whoa, whoa, whoa…what in the blue hell just happened here? That’s a sharp turn for a short story. Or is this an extended series? How many issues? Do you think they’ll make a movie about it one day?

SPLAT!

Ok, ok, ok…simmer down. There is surely some deflating explanation for such a brilliant catastrophe. Stars don’t just align that way, right? Stellar joke. But I’ll be damned if it isn’t cruel.

ZAP!

But hey, hey, hey…let’s face it, most fun we’ve had in a while. It wouldn’t have to be sensical if not for circumstance. Maybe that’s the point. Play the hand you’re dealt, right? Does everything really happen for a reason? If so, I promise I won’t get angry the next time I stub my toe. 

POW!

Well, well, well…isn’t this just grand? The most divine of comedies. Can’t lie, I’m immersed in this lead role. Who’s to say we don’t have the perfect picture? We could clean up come award season. America’s Sweethearts. Helpless method actors. Too perfect for the part.

BOOM. BANG. CRASH.

Wait, wait, wait…we still need an ending. Too bad we’re not the writers. I bet there’s a plot twist before it’s over.

The Destination Is On Your…

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Just like Donnie, I guess I’m out of my element

‘Spose I’m wading in a different river

Bottom of the rock at the top of the hill

Left of center, but right in place

Tensions pass with breezes 

Indignation fades like dusk on the horizon and I am buoyant in my disorientation

Maybe I’ll just keep getting myself lost

Perhaps I’ll venture to all the unknowns

To me, that’s just about everywhere

Just can’t get too cozy

Cannot settle

I like being out of my element

Uncertainty is freedom if you’re  crazed enough

Black Holes Are Better Than Graves

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Edge of the bed

Head in the hands

Cracks in the floor start to make sense
“Why?” ain’t the question

“How?” don’t work neither

It was always more of a statement

“Wasted”

Like a dollar on a lotto ticket

Play at your own risk

Or like a thought never spoken

Potential can fade, you know

Bewildered and bruised

But certain of the cause

And prepared for the scars

So, I guess I’ll set my feet down on this here floor

These cracks will give way soon enough

I guess I’ll look on up

But not at this ceiling here, no

I’m looking at the sky

And all these pulsating stars

One of them will soar across my eyes

And I haven’t given up on wishing yet…

The Marvelous Equivocator

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There is seemingly no end to your ignominy.
Not a salacious lane you’d think twice about cutting into.
No virtue honest enough for you to uphold.

Because it’s less demanding for you to tread on splintered ground.
There’s such convenience in how you predate on these torpid carcasses.
Because you are fucking swine.

The epitome of perjury in the court of integrity.
The embodiment of all that is lecherous.
The paragon to which all the rotten can adore.

Relish in that spurious esteem.
Let it pervade into your delirium.
Because there is, indeed, an end looming.

And when the final frame fades to black, all you’ll have remaining is a credit roll soiled in the shame left of the murder.