You,
You,
You.

12:01

Some of us order up the melancholy

For naught but two letter reaons,

Simple and easy to spell-- but grave.

The grave, yes;

Have you recently considered

How we clockwork deal with death

daily?

Humanity and fauna aside,

Have you forgotten that midnight rots yesterday

Rots yesterday

Rots yesterday

.

And little consolation is derived

From the knowledge that it lives on

An hour down the horizon.

That's merely tangential

And I cannot be bothered to think

about math while I am mourning.

Travel log

My oh my-
As i
Settle into my assigned seat
All my variable ducks are finally in their rows
And i can strip off the thinking tension
Like a sweaty vestment at the end of a long day.

But, it's morning and instead my feet tap
The impatient dance- Morse code for
'It's beginning.'

This is my best

Beg Pardon for Misbehaving; Disown Limbs

My god dam hands are what get me in trouble

When I all suddenly feel less than human

They are still there; perfectly capable

of operation: Joystick of the World

When I need to be ethereal in wavers

Like a ghost until I can climb back down

The(y)re still, my electric plug-ins

Magnet pull to my body sharp objects

Inspect and separate skin cells with

Simple machine: wedge

Discussion is only possible from

Such a re-frozen point of view

Hands,

Its my goddam hands

Critics on Three 3/3

3. Get it over with already!

Belly up skyscrapers

Grounded knee trees

Tangled hair sky

Shaking hands light poles

That nervous urban twitch

I am and you are

Drawn and quartered

Like the map of a grand city

All my scribbles are about orientation

I am so simple it becomes an art form

To know where my fucking hands and feet are.

Critics on Three 2.5/3

2.5 The Interjection

No, that's none of it right, review and revise, to say

I am splitting in two sides falling apart

This is my banana peel breakdown

Concurrently in the winter of madness

The snowball of guilt is melting down the

back of my coat

The fire is just around the corner

Yet my mad mind is making a maze of it

Someone in my head is telling me of

My obligation to let the guilt freeze to my back

and skin me for penance

The day goes by now like it never even was

And I am all fingers and toes

Or elbows and knees, as it were-

And I am less the human,

Always less human.

That's not a fair price to pay for knowledge. 

No, that's none of it right, review and revise, to say

In the Morning

I drink you

Make love to my coffee

My mind has long ago been committed

My dream-hands signed the contract

That leads me to this place (dark and forbidding)

Called dawn.

This poem will remain unfinished.