Tagged: work

The Bureau of Emasculation

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play off reflection, I caught you staring in the mirror,
playing through a bit of high,
but I work hard enough,

it won’t be a problem

always starting at the same time,

always starting too late
the grip feels good in my hand
the rubber against stiff fingers
we wouldn’t want the Callous
they’ve hollowed out the underside
to take away feeling
stuffed with sawdust and formaldehyde
I never could be full enough
good enough for you
sew it shut
sand down the veins
and pare mushroom tip

it wasn’t so long ago
foreskin charms
phallus necklace
earrings always
dangle

Ticonderoga

3262

Engraved

On a Ticonderoga

I reached to the back of my skull

And found the same number engraved

In me

Serendipitous utensils

I know how silly

Love can be

But why not believe,

Yellow slender;

Soul mate.

We are writing utensils

Intertwined

Flowing

Like letting go of a manuscript

In a windstorm

But you hurt me so.

Do I use you?

Or do they use me?

Were you here?

Is your motives for nothing,

But profit?

Is your heart not in it,

The way it once was?

It will feel like years

Until I see you again

But I’ve never loved

Like I love the pen

And once the door closes

I’ll curse your name

Wish the lips never parted

Slithering tongue

The picking of

flesh from bone,

My vulture

My muse

Moving me to new grounds

Where to Find Relief.

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That life

In all its tediousness

All its suffering

With a  white washed brain

And a luxurious

Lobotomy

(Day time television)

It will all end

The thread will split

The engine will run out of gas

In the center of oncoming traffic

I grab the wheel, brace myself

For another reality

At the center

Transcending in blue light

The acceptance of love

Impermanence

I am not bitter

 

Pushing Passion

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Fascinating Finds

From frail to fruition

From fracture

To SPACE

And the opportunity of white lines

Consciousness is a leech

Bulging, benign

And every sober word

Rhymes with lost time

Thyme and sage, Rosemary

Lines the foot of my bed

With a bouquet of flowers

Because I won’t be resting

When I’m dead

Burning down the Sea

I only wrote one yesterday.
Apathy like America
I try not to worry about a future in sand
Formed into a sand castle,
Hoping it’ll be able to hold my weight
But drugs, friends, family school
waves crashing into dwindling defenses
And I am the sand crab perched on the highest peak
Waiting for liquid sacrifice
It’s hard when you don’t know how to swim
And even Bob Dylan struggles
Through changing tides

For the water builds and destroys sea castles
Like day to dark
Like life to death
Like lynching to messiah
The last fraying strands of hope

Sometimes debris washes from the sea
Enough splintered wood, glass shards, empty plastic bottles
To make a raft
But now the water is crystal
Dancing up and down the shore
Salsa dancing my way to death
Like Bundy, like all
It likes to play with prey
Before the end comes.