Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Swimming Lessons

Being depressed is like drowning. 
You keep trying to float to the surface,
But after a while you get tired
And you just want to give up.
I say you, but I mean me. 
Some days, the only reason I keep paddling and gasping for some fucking air
Is because I could never force a bloated, water-logged corpse 
Into the lives of the people that I care about.
Some days, they’re the only thing 
Keeping me from finding out
If I can spontaneously sprout gills.
Some days even they don’t help,
Because you can be supportive all you want but 
It doesn’t go a long way if 
You don’t really understand
Mental illness.
If you take it for granted.
If you think it’s just a temporary feeling,
Like it will pass.
Try feeling like you’re drowning 
For over half your life, 
For years, 
For what feels like

I don’t know many life forms
That can survive that kind of
But humans are 
One of them.

Neil Hilborn said
The genes for creativity and mental illness
Are not related, 
But one and the same
And he is right.
Only creating something 
To get through it all,
To maybe buoy yourself 
for a brief moment
Can give you enough oxygen 
To keep it up.
You might not keep it up
For long,
But hey.
It’s a few more minutes on this
Godforesaken rock,
And that’s something
I suppose. 

29 NOV 17 

Sunday, November 12, 2017


I’m sure I’ll regret this
i think, ripping a sliver from my
Souvenir book mark 
And i wonder
If it’s even any good but
I’m high and drunk besides
Already wavy from bath water,
Coming apart and
Paper thin fragile
The book or the person holding it,
Who knows which
Or both
Or neither 
and i trumpet a mad parade 
But get lost at the ending
I’ve always avoided endings 

No, that was the place to end
i know because i can’t read anything else
Just the same line over
And over and over
Like a record skipped
On repeat, blaring at me
At me
At me 

And no one will ever read this again anyway
And no one will ever read this again
And no one will ever read

Again anyway 

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

A Siren's Lament

Grasping at the smoke
that clouds my addled mind
Drifting away
Like lovers 
and opportunities
Foaming at the mouth,
Aimless forever,
Ageless with time,
No way out 
A labyrinth 
of my own construction
And I am the Minotaur
Grotesque twisted patchwork  
Understood by none 
and liked by less
Wailing with regret 
Yet half the squandered moments
were never mine to waste 
But the sting sings the same
tired tune every day
Regardless of my good intentions 
the noose ever waits
Hanging on bated breath
and hanging from every word
Breathed from your straight-laced mouth
Surprised a gasp ever gets out
Patience ever plagues us
And a Roman candle 
Doesn't mix well with
the picture of temperance 
Yet I am a brushfire
Cannot contain with words
Nor good sense,
And you couldn't 
tame me if you tried,
But you know you would never
want any less. 

Monday, October 6, 2014

Zero Hero

i suffer just to breathe
and only pull in my own razor blades
down my throat
and through my teeth

we bomb the shit out of
our enemies
holy airstrikes, batman!
just like them,
we slaughter the "bad guys"
and with them the fear,

we kill the "bad guys"
and lots of good
guys, and gals
who could have been friends.
we're bad guys to them.

another epidemic turns pandemic,
the wars will kill us first
faster than the virus
and dehumanize us
and an immune system shut down
to beat out a government shutdown
is still prettier.

the american dream
is an expensive suicide
go broke for your diploma
a receipt
then papercut yourself with it
til you bleed

and suddenly my wallet rules me
I am not what I love nor what I create
Suddenly I am defined only
by the numbers in my bank account
(zero, nada, nothing, zilch)
and by the grades I make
(failure, incomplete, below average)
Zippo Zero

When will society realize
that happiness is not quantified
that freedom is being free from the material
(not this illusion of freedom)
and all our imagined problems.
We occupy our minds with useless
Bullshit, most of our "problems"
aren't real, and
the more leisure time we have,
the more we don't have time for anything
or so we say
or so we think
can someone please explain that
to me?

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Dear Sam

Mischief finds those that fly
from place to place and time to time,
Echoing through the chambers of our heart, we
beat on, against the current, racing minds and the
Organized chaos of us whirls round
and round and round
To stop,
Who knows where, why, and how
This discord will bind us or destroy
Yet either way, we anticipate
the outcome, despite
the drawbacks, we

But you're still lighting fires and I,
armed with lefty scissors,
still go
from time
to time.

Memento Mori

Dead men tell the finest tales
they echo in our hearts
and burn our lungs from the inside
like the smoke from the cigarette you light

A dead man walking is the finest thing indeed
When you read my words you watch me bleed
A curse held by those who leave a legacy
Drowning in sorrow and swimming in tragedy

Profundity comes with a price
Your soul flees early if you roll the dice
to make it big, to win the game
To gain your glory, fortune, or fame

Dead men rot before they ever hit the ground,
Misery by the mile and headaches by the pound.
No matter what their hearts desire and eyes seek,
Madness for the brilliant and boredom for the weak.

But even dead men who seek no success,
Locked in a room - o'er page, under duress
May find their disposition has sealed their fate
A minute too soon is a second too late

In the world of the living, the dead men wait
Break down the door and open the gate
to find freedom from their earthly bounds
Rebirthed from our sighs falling flat on the ground

Desperate to find another way,
All that we gain is what the dead men pay.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

River Rats

Shine and Smile
Smile and Shine
take out your trash with the night before and
carry your baggage with you
since no one wants to keep it
what are we but a series of mistakes
all a mess so 
what's one more?
The accidents, a promise
The potential, possibility
Tired of being told no 
being told what to do
being told anything other than
you are loved 
and you love
happiness is just a mistake away
and with these weak words 
I set the stage

To hold interest for long is not 
my habit, get bored and abandon
or jump ship before I see sails fly
into the horizon yet
I'd let the gangrene set in before I'd say no
to you
before I'd get bored
of you
before I melt in
to you
A strange addiction yet
what isn't
and why wouldn't 
strange be the case with you
when all else is spastic stories
and oddities,
another lost soul flying into the night, looking
for a reason 
Yet falling short time and time 
again, never finding
Another gypsy heart
as free and so as lost