Untitled.

It isn't as if when I'm feeling this way I can drive out to some remote piece of earth and feel a presence of the Lord or something supernatural. The oceans, mountains, and forest lay in a land beyond my gas tank and minimum wage paycheck. Somehow my depression doesn't drive me to be frivolous. Pop art becomes annoying as it is painstakingly at every corner with a billboard lighting up the night sky. I can't escape to chains in the middle of the night, they're all to well-known glow is disheartening.
I can't escape this feeling, and I'm surely just dying.

First poem in a year and a half.

(I have been on hiatus from writing poetry for a year and a half, hopeful that this poem will spark many more)

It's so tyrannical how my mind works.

Killing so many thoughts

So many words.

Hoping this dusty silence has a chance.

The bones relapsing, creaking and cracking.

Morning breath slipping,

and my eyes wishing they were seeing.

Trying to encompass everything of the like.

Allowing the sun to set, and for there to be the night.

Untitled #26

Well, here I am

I am what you see

There is apathy bleeding out my eyes

The whole congestion of inaccuracy

Spilling from my depths

This is a tale of wonder

The socially inept

But de facto

I actually came to plea

That you'd judge me by

my thought

Not my insanity.

Untitled #25

I've come back

Only to hold up

The social standard

We once kept

Yet, mother has swept

Them under the book case

Opportunity is laced

On our cardigans

It buttons up our jackets

And dangles from our ears

The vacuum hasn't seen

The light since

1957

Sculpting the bunnies

That hide under the rug

Feeding them

Every inch of paper

In the pantry

On the backs

Of cereal boxes

Telling us

Preaching to us

Asking

What's your next

Move?

Untitled #24

I'm trying to paint this

Pretty little picture

Trust me I am

My paints keep drying

And shaking, are my hands

I want this so I may

Hang it on a wall

The whitest wall in the

Room

The tiny room

I can call my own

But only sometimes

When the weather permits

Otherwise, nothing is my own

I hope to change this

With my painting

but you see

The long tiresome years

Make me not care anymore

So I'll just sit in my room

imagining stars.

Untitled #23

You know,

You can always ask people

About their stories

Their wildest adventures

Living vicariously through them

As you sit at home

Making sure every wall is white

Every mirror clean

Every glass full

Never letting the dust settle

Because that would truly

Tell that their isn't life here

So rearrange the patterns

Okay?

They won't notice

It's more stealthy

Because it's just one

Cradle rob away

For any dream you've

Nursed to life

Yet, made sure it was

Crippled and held back

Chewing on steel

Was never that satisfying

In the first place

Love.

Want to know the cheapest word
You can buy?
Go ahead and spin the wheel; the price is right.
Sharper the knife
The thinner the deal
Mass produced
A consumeristic appeal
Everything and nothing
Has been attached
No more lock
No more latch
Daddy,
You ask me
What I want for
Christmas
My birthday.
Maybe
We could buy back
The word that isn't
In lack.
No deficit
No empty account
Lets lock it up
Never let it out
Until those
Can figure out the lock
Travel the maze
They unassembled the clock
Deserved the word
That was shut up
Don't let this
put you down
The greeks
The hebrews
Knew what it all was about
This'll be the last I speak of this
Because all of you repeat
allowing the stimulation of
Neurons to diminish