You Always Know

You espouse the virtues
of going to the Room With the View.
You always know
You always knew.
Where the streets are made of melted jewelry
stolen from sinners like me
after we’re dead
and burning.
Lost in the abstract
fill in the blanks with black
and call it faith, but
it’s just giving up in a way.

A Seven Minute Letter (And Thoughts on God)

god is a desert sand
and he is in me.
Leaves only cinders
and trembling hands.
and he is in me.
god is an Idea that grows
until I’m not sure if I am
the thinker or the thought.
god is unafraid to look upon
the unknowable
and to pursue the dark places
step by stumble.
he is in me
pushing me inside out.
The compulsion,
the doubt,
the restless passion –
Creation
is in me.

78,840

I’ve slept for almost a decade.
78thousand 8hundred forty hours.
Nine years and counting.
$670,140 earned at minimum wage.
Eight fifty.
How is that legal?  How does a man survive
on Eight fucking fifty?
– I don’t even have a job.
Don’t sleep til three thirty
unless you don’t have a job.
Or you work nights.
I don’t work nights.
But I don’t sleep nights, either.
I just lie there as awake as the other side of the world
thinking about things
like the other side of the world.
Then next thing you know,
It’s three thirty.  I know because
I hear the door slam
when my roommates leave for their jobs.
I don’t use clocks.  I wear a watch
but I cant really read it.
I hope it makes me look responsible and
prompt.
Time should be fluid and free flowing
not rigid and measured, tick for tock.
But then again,
I sleep til 3:thirty.  What do I have to be
on time for? Why should I use a
Clock?

We Are Legion, We are Locusts.

the world becomes
and we devolve.
cultures melt together
and in unity, disappear.
we are legion.
we are locusts.
we consume.
we conquer.
we bury ourselves to the neck
in loose dirt and ash
then bathe in the rivers of time
and complain.
we choke on our own sentences
because we cant even swallow
our own lies.
we head, headlong, into nowhere
angrily asking "when will get there?"
speed is the new drug
and condensing time is the new high.
we can never be fast enough
because we have obliterated the concept
of enough.
we can never be sated.
we can never be hushed.
and we can never be
defined because we can
never be understood.

i can say hard things
with false sincerity,
i’m a natural
it comes so easily.

i can tell a liar
from a lie
and a cover story
from an alibi.

but i can’t tell myself
that i lie to myself
about why i do
the things i do.

I Wish I Knew but I’m Glad I Don’t

I wish I knew,
But I’m glad I don’t.

I know only what I’ve imagined
and that is quite enough
to forget.

Dream On

I wouldn’t call myself a dreamer.
No, not a
dreamer. Though,
I am not a realist either.

I live in reality,
biologically,
But I exist somewhere else
entirely.

I am not a dreamer.
But I am good at ignoring things.

Everything Matters

Let’s pretend we live in a world where everything matters,
and everyone is somewhere along they way to their “greatness,”
somewhere between the beginning and the end of their quest for meaning
and the quest results are real.
There is an ending worth working for.
The things they say do matter,
but the things they do matter most of all.
Achievements are collected,
deeds, habits, thoughts and such,
and they’re on their way!

All of a sudden its a race.
Each person is busily working on their particular to-do-list,
ignoring each other to the best of their ability.
The only interactions are now bitter,
people become hindrances, rather than friends
targets and objectives rather than family.

The Holy Assigner of Missions is watching; the only opinon to mind:
the Great Grader of Assignments’.
‘What others think of me will not matter when I complete the
goal that is set before me!’ they think.
‘I am his most illustrious completer
of tasks, surely I am in a better place than they.
I will be honored, revered for my tenacity in Tedium
and for my mastery of Menial!’

And still, one who dies
stays in his grave.
With some imaginary debt
left sorely unpaid.

To no one’s disappointment.

Me?

I feel bad for those who think they can’t do any better than me.

Weep Not for Me While I Sleep

Weep not for me
while I sleep,
with eyes sewn shut
six feet deep.

Weep instead
for yourself,
for it is you, not I
who are in hell.