Writhe

Pressure like gravity's senseless hand squeeze
Sweat hits the head before the rest of the body
You think
Death
Sooner than expected but expected
Aches like organ failure
like life leaving
You think
Fuck
Shoulda coulda woulda
Then it's passed
Back to pissy tunnel vision
A distraction
a cigarette
a bite to eat
Water
Water will fix this
Fooled again
Stand up fast
Feet tingle and head spins
You think
Death

You've self loathed yourself here and self diagnosed your way out again
Rinse and repeat
and repeat
Cyclical hypochondria like wheel spoke expectation
Then nothing
back and forth and around
At this point you know this is you and this is me

Tweedle Bruhi

Looking up to your monument of white granite
standing beneath the majesty of construction and grandeur
I'm in awe
for a moment
Lost but not quite gone
Soon the white marble peels and falls away
the concrete and steel are exposed
The bars my eyes once could not see now visible
Your hopeful smile now looks more like a smirk
the waving flag once a beacon of hope is the blindfold over my eyes
it's the plastic bag over my head from which I gasp.

Inoperable

These devices left to me
passed down
contraptions all
tinkered with
toyed
sparking smoldering fritzed
alien and complex
yielding no freedom
exposing no answers
asking no questions

Like a disappointed child on Christmas morning
feeling guilty and selfish
cheated
not what I wanted but the best that could be given
something is better than nothing written on my face
the giver's paper thin smile an inadequate dam holding back shameful tears
no one speaks the thoughts thickly fogging the room we sit and stare in
this is the best we can do


Left to me these devices lay unfixed
not my own but mine.

Museic

Waves of sound fill this space intentionally
I want this sound around me
I need focus
I need some time
The Tempo brings an almost panic to my insides
I love hate it

Neurasthenia

wondering
a distant place unknown
but familiar
a painfully peaceful place
distant now my mind leaves my body
the body functioning sporadically
a choppy remote signal from the mind
static
gray and white bits convulsing on top of each other
the crumpled hiss
the only thing connecting the two

my mind gliding through the air of the unknown
thoughts like bombs fall and hit the ground
patternless impacts
vibrations shatter the landscape
desolate as the moon
craters haunted by a nothingness

deep in the distance I can hear the chewing of something
the fingers tapping on something
the words of another something
the real and unreal coexisting abnormally
churning over each other
tumultuous waves unsatisfied with position
the two worlds fighting
interrupting each others existence
all differentiating lines phased out
chaos
surreal chaos
an ocean of imagination and the tangible
a place longed for and from which there is no escape
distant and unknown
but familiar

Tranquilopoli

Tree covered hills like clouds
lay low on the horizons
drawing my eye from the road
winding and pulling me
my destination
an easy breath hidden away
nestled between earth and sky

Memories of time spent
of the inhabitants awaiting me

A fire burns
surrounded by voices
nestled between earth and sky

Soon my presence
of voices waiting
libations a gesture so subtle
out of sight blanketed by moon and stars

A place to breath
where eyes can smile
reflective light triggering an ancient feeling
a man no longer seen
but buried deep within
swirling around nucleotides
we become one as scent hits the brain
thick morning air
a stew of pollen
nourishing a hunger no protein could ever

A place out of sight
nestled between earth and sky

Institutionaleyes

I haven't a dollar yet I'm not sad.
I'm losing my drive for money altogether.
I want
I need
I don't care.
The more I seek happiness the more I seek unemployment.
Laziness may be a downfall, but what's down there?
I can and I will create
Ideas and the tangible
For now I will take some of my time and give it away for wages.
I am beaten by the structures
I am trapped
for now.
I must become strong
I must not be drawn to the voices of reason
they too are trapped
and the reason they sling is lined with shit
they will be freed
soon enough but not too soon.
I am only beginning to see my path and the exit it leads to
out of this place of mirrors
familiar faces like landmines
criss-cross my path relentless
smiles like bullets slow me down and bleed me
weeping pin hole death
All the hands lended turned to knives in my back
the bodies like anchors sink me.