#epoems

I've traveled the world in every direction but never strayed too far off the trails already blazed. So when you see the blood dripping down you'll know I've done more than my body should allow. Yet you'll say I stay in my comfort zone even though it's the comfort of my own home that I'm anxious. Chewed through the marrow of my bones now I just need a place of respite.

Now I just need a place of respite. Neither cushion nor needle but a bed of stone to remind myself how much I've sobered up. Over the years, everything is too clear. If I stay the same I'll turn to dust but after the last out of body experience I can't begin to inhale myself.

I can't begin to inhale myself because I'll remember when I lived under the floorboards next to the pirates yelling ″parlay!″ and playing chess. They speak of dreams, and if I allow them they'll convince me to get ambitious but grey crawls over black and I've already allowed it once. Something cannot be gained without loss. In need of equivalent exchange.

In need of equivalent exchange to keep myself from getting too ambitious before I become desperate and tear myself from the inside out so I can feel more comfortable as entrails on the floor. Moist and wet as boiling blood but everyone/everything else freezes up with talks of ″wasn't the last time the end?″ Wondering if there's any more room to begin somewhere else, but if it seems so tedious then we'll just leave it at that.

I'm a wet blanket caught in the middle of a rainstorm and you're an egg on the sidewalk in the middle of a hot summer day. Nothing about the two complements. No, forget it, I don't want to hear your compliments; there is nothing good to be said and I'd leave it at that. Leave me as is and in no other condition.

I'm not like a teenager I was much more mature then or at least that's what I probably thought I was in those days. You're no different but a little more idealistic than I could ever stomach. Every attempt, every advance is a retch. A spinning web with all the little things I tried to repress, all caught in.

Don't call it ″pushing away″ when every step is a step further off an edge of a cliff. If you love me, don't come any closer.

"embarrassment poem 2"

Cycling through a thousand lives and I rule every one.

Beekeeper, I was the ones to attend to your mosquito bites. They never grew a considerable size yet here we are, the bubble about to burst. I'm going back and forth giving the camels their humps.

When I was aboard the spaceship I grew bored and found a way in black holes lead to every dimension. Ink blots against a canvas; Rorschach tests tell us false equivalences. There is only one legion but time is an illusion and I find myself lying there between the floorboards.

Walking the French Quarters. I was one of your whores but now I'm just parading for Halloween in my maid outfit. There's just not enough plot to make everyone climax.

So I stand there once again dropping acid, sulfuric all over the lab. Forgotten safety goggles, oh well now I'm a skeleton. Blame it on reincarnation I'll call it safekeeping.

I used to care for my fellow man until I found out I'm not one of them. Call it transition. I used to hold the world on my back until I found out it would fit just as easily in my hand.

Reach further, dip into that honey pot there are no others only the self and a sense of awareness but a lack of conscience.

The first and the third are a burn the rest I don’t know, but one of them gets you high, the other gets you low, one goes fast and the other makes you slow.