it’s messy
and hard to breathe
but we look past
the way we live
we both know
when i like it the most
we love
in circles with no straight lines
They are not the control
And we are not the experiment.
Right now, the sun is waking up and I’m ready to go down. My eyes are tired. Every blink lingers too long and holds too heavy. I hate this feeling. How inappropriately it visits me during waking hours. I struggle but there is a nagging pain that shoots from the corners of my eyes and I succumb to the comfort of sleep.
2012
This is not what we want-
but it is ours and we worked so hard to get it.
A sea of outstretched faces carried vehement dissonance
To my exposed ears.
Still warm froth discarded from their forth righteousness,
Clung to their lips.
Foreheads were furrowed with ideas of change
Against the comfort of bias.
Their smooth, shaven heads bobbed in mechanical cohesion
Mimicking a mindless creed.
And they marched onward,
Yet their progress was none.
Their assertions saw to the past
And their warnings were for the future.
They lugged weapons their fathers had clenched
And never relinquished.
Blood-splattered badges emblazoned their heaving chests
And feigned their conviction.
Shoes had been polished only to get re-scuffed
Reveling in their habitual carnage.
Promises were given and threats were made,
Yet their satisfaction was none.
Seemingly, cemented in air, their stiff, sharp arms
Equated to their obdurate perspective.
The temperature escalated in the masses
And the White became the Red.
Sweat bit into their parched eyes,
Stinging for no more than a moment.
And they marched onward,
Yet their progress was none.
Resemblances among Generations never were as palpable
As they were shoulder to shoulder.
As babies, they were all breast fed the same bigoted ideologies
That surged through their patrimonial veins.
Open wounds were noxious,
For those that purged were no longer kin.
Recognizing their submissiveness, memories bled back,
Yet of regrets I have none.
My deliberate retirement
Was greeted by many more predestined covenants.
Their naïve eyes didn’t anticipate the looming devirgination
Awaiting their unwavering compliance.
Mouths hung slack as they were gorged with calumnies,
Identical to those their fathers received
And never forgot.
Their freshly cropped hair
Equated with their newly cut views.
These Whites were dropped among the Reds and they marched onward,
Yet their progress was none.
Recognizing their submissiveness, memories bled back,
Yet of regrets I have none.
2008
The moment right before impact- before the explosion of fire and gas and ultimate silence, there is anticipation. Excitement in prospect before the prospect of tragedy.
2010
The geniuses we are taught in school,
Pythagoras, Democritus, Socrates,
Their proofs we have memorized.
These men with thighs of gold
And Daemons whispering in their ears.
They told us there is a soul
Measured not by science,
But by images.
Touch what you think
As you will what you did.
They exist together.
These men of math
Who utilized dreams and trances.
They told us there is a soul
In man.
2008
It’s just a moment.
And yet it remains in all the ways we cannot.
Sometimes it’s easier to love someone you completely hate.
White pillowing clouds of smoke make their way up and dissipate. Soft whirls curl and curl and then bend. Never really static, never really moving, the haze placates the darkness of the bathroom. They do this dance and I watch. I watch as they’re born from my lips until they die a quiet death high above me. I watch this until the cigarette ash reminds me that it’s still alive. I watch this while I kill a few more before I abandon the rest in the toilet. I flush.
2012
