Bright Lights and Social Standing

Its not looks. Its personality. It
has nothing to do with your smile
or your laugh.
Its friend counts
in four vertical
and one diagonal,
off the charts.
My father cracked jokes
at one of the charmed sisters because of
a lopsided face. Fuck the mirrors.
Fuck the fuckers and fuck the lovers. I
want to be
alone. All alone. The jockey rides
the horse who
rides the bottle.
This is a perfect photo-op.
This is the blood pressure test with
an injection at the end.
I write to impress myself. I used to have a
companion who craved for an explanation. All I gave
was a defamation of character. You
were right all along. Who am
I is you. We find light. We find it to be glow
sticks shipped from
Bigglersville. We find fights.
We find them to be the cure to
withdrawal.
We all find nothing
where we thought something was
cleverly positioned.
Its midnight.
Its morning.
Its December.
Its over
and over and
over again.
Have you ever heard of R.E.M.
sleep?
I believe those to be
the dreams you cant remember.
I pray for tonight to be random.
I pray for the thoughts to access
the deepest alcoves of my memory.
I pray to forget.
I don't have anyone to pray to.

December Aint Much Better

Vomit.
Now I know why writing is better than typing.
Sleeping next to a time bomb
is why I sob.
Lets sleep.
Her name was name and her game was
365:
everything you want to hear.
Its an "Im sorry" and "I believe"
dry heave.
Yes,
money man,
I have stumbled upon infinite series.
Add and add and add.
Is that the wrong mathematical
attitude
aptitude?
I tried counting steps
and misspellings and
wound up with
a frown.
I deviate far from the norm.
I remember sky watches and
a corn field filled with
giggles and laughs.
I experience time and
eye twinkles that
trickle past.
Please.
I have but one request.
Fill me in on
the need and pin spin to
declare the best.
When you deny the top of the charts
for the bottom of the barrel and regret it
where is it that you are left?
Last breath,
Twenty steps past death,
Ahem.
I clear my throat to clean the scene.
I clean my virus to
bleed clean the reams
of writing.
I fucked up a gross
post
most
grown moss
unforgiven.
All I wanted was an I love
you back.
Two thumb tacks hold
the weight of
a moron.
Sleep while running in
place.

Lines

These lines,
they call them character lines.
I call them canyons
for I lack character.

These lines,
they call them gibberish.
I call them sanity,
for I speak I.

These lines,
they call them almighty.

These lines are
in 6 to 8 coils.

These lines
are lies.

These lines?
What lines.

Never Remeber November

I've been pushing my teeth into my lips. Canines
sharpened on a grinding wheel enter and exit
in snakebites. "Writing too much?" body 1 inquires.
"Right!" proclaims body 2.
The biggest elephant in the room
has us pressed to walls.
We're blowing smoke
and breathing heavily.
I never wanted to want
anything more than a want.
That could prove to be a problem. When I
think, the gears and belts sound like
power steering failure or an automatic car wash
internal mechanisms.
There is a young boy on my corner dressed
like a Newsy
shouting "Extra extra!". The bad news
comes at an even worse time.
Letter to the editor:
"You HAVE changed. I knew it".
I carve another line in my headboard
and anticipate the day I can lay
a diagonal. I push another notch in my
belt and wait for the day I wake up and need
the extra slack. I press another digit. I dig another
hole. I write another poem.
Remember I once mentioned repetition?
Turns out that delirium is on a high test line.
Turns out that sanity is more than just your mind.
Turns out that they won't turn me out in 2009.
Fuck it.
The trees keeping the outsiders out are
still green.
This smiles tiles are yellow but at least theres a smile
to be seen.
Between you and I are black miles and miles but we're as close as a dream.
Fuck it.

In a Relieved Tone

This communication has faded past the point
of flipping a switch. She sways her hips like she never
has when she takes that short stroll away. She doesn't
remember why
she was
crying.
Maybe its a good thing
to be hoodwinked. Close the glove too early
and miss the catch. Close the glove too late
and drop the ball.
Create and destroy.

I send my congratulations.
Please respond with condolences.

Currency

Flipping a steel penny I am consistently calling
and landing, all the while calculating probability and
creeping past odds. People ask me why I keep a buffalo nickel and
a liberty dime in my wallet. I tell them its for
luck. I tell them its because my great grandfather gave them to my
grandfather who in turn gave them to my father. Now I have them.
Really its because you never know when you are going to need
fifteen cents. I once knew a man who stumbled upon large quantities of old
bills. Red seals and blue seals. Silver certificates that read "In Silver Payable to
the Bearer on Demand". Little did the bill bearers in the days of yore know
what would transpire some seventy years later.
Its still got the mint luster on it baby and every flip,
every call,
and every time I beat the odds it is wearing away.
Sixty-five years worth of wear to show you that I never guess
wrong. If I ever find a one sided coin mint error I will sell it
because I need it not. I told you-I never guess wrong.

Dotted Lines

We all have those packing bags.
Au revoir's and white hankerchiefs
fumble out of locomotive windows.
I tried laying pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters and
half dollars on the tracks in hopes of
a spectacular derail. I just
wound up with money defaced.