I can’t find the quiet place in my head.
A coffee table landscape of drug paraphernalia, empty bottles, overflowing ashtrays, and petrified pizza.
They are bringing words of disaster to my doorstep.
Everything is a fire or a flood, even the nail polish.
Twenty hits of blotter , it feels the same as ten. So there’s a limit my ability to mutilate the senses,
at least I’m not cutting myself.
If I run naked with a roll of paper towels through the campground
the cowboys won’t shoot me.
I am hidden in the faery realms.
My face painted with moth dust.
My mind painted with angel dust.
My mouth is dry and thirsty from all this stardust.
Light is only darkness illuminated,
I can see it,
the darkness,
pooling in the afternoon sun.
It comes from the inside, a black void that echoes with uncertainty.
A place of twisted ankles, ripped nylons, and spoiled tins of old makeup.
Once I said the words, my regret was amplified by the howling of coyotes.
I forced myself to eat that unpleasant lie.
Nerves don’t break down, that’s a lame excuse.
I have a lodestone in my head that keeps me pointed west.
So I know how small this forrest really is.
I can only walk in circles for so long pretending to be lost.
That’s the only adventure I will ever have.
I don’t understand why they never killed me on the road.
I saw it in their eyes.
I don’t know what they saw in mine.
The lizard mask my father made me left a permanent impression.
It was the only craft he taught me. I have been making them all my life.
I am a ghost ship in the night,
always setting sail at the low tide of the soul, where my hull scrapes the sunken husks of abandoned friends and lovers.
And, I am overboard, legs pumping furious air before I hit the dark water
where the specter of Jim Morrison feeds me the acid he found on the coliseum floor.
It was only an actor pretending to be a poet. The words were all borrowed or stolen.
There is a werewolf here , running between the lines on these pages, bursting from my chest in a terrible storm of chaos.
I will have to run faster
if I want to catch her.
Before the sunrise comes
and paints me with new disaster.
2013-08-11 10.45.00.jpg
A coffee table landscape of drug paraphernalia, empty bottles, overflowing ashtrays, and petrified pizza.
They are bringing words of disaster to my doorstep.
Everything is a fire or a flood, even the nail polish.
Twenty hits of blotter , it feels the same as ten. So there’s a limit my ability to mutilate the senses,
at least I’m not cutting myself.
If I run naked with a roll of paper towels through the campground
the cowboys won’t shoot me.
I am hidden in the faery realms.
My face painted with moth dust.
My mind painted with angel dust.
My mouth is dry and thirsty from all this stardust.
Light is only darkness illuminated,
I can see it,
the darkness,
pooling in the afternoon sun.
It comes from the inside, a black void that echoes with uncertainty.
A place of twisted ankles, ripped nylons, and spoiled tins of old makeup.
Once I said the words, my regret was amplified by the howling of coyotes.
I forced myself to eat that unpleasant lie.
Nerves don’t break down, that’s a lame excuse.
I have a lodestone in my head that keeps me pointed west.
So I know how small this forrest really is.
I can only walk in circles for so long pretending to be lost.
That’s the only adventure I will ever have.
I don’t understand why they never killed me on the road.
I saw it in their eyes.
I don’t know what they saw in mine.
The lizard mask my father made me left a permanent impression.
It was the only craft he taught me. I have been making them all my life.
I am a ghost ship in the night,
always setting sail at the low tide of the soul, where my hull scrapes the sunken husks of abandoned friends and lovers.
And, I am overboard, legs pumping furious air before I hit the dark water
where the specter of Jim Morrison feeds me the acid he found on the coliseum floor.
It was only an actor pretending to be a poet. The words were all borrowed or stolen.
There is a werewolf here , running between the lines on these pages, bursting from my chest in a terrible storm of chaos.
I will have to run faster
if I want to catch her.
Before the sunrise comes
and paints me with new disaster.
2013-08-11 10.45.00.jpg
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