hovering

the chaos of the day
layered on the back
of this bloated corpse
broken free of the moorings
that once held fast to
the black below

a head full of repressitol
new understandings coached
that revealed chasms once undetected
a welcome reprieve gained
at the cost of numbed feels
dwelling in the black below

consequences

trust is all i have
and it is so fickle
it will take that rusty
knife and twist it
hard
    the sound of sinew snapping
    the color of rust and blood
    the draining of light
     from my eyes
but i still see i can't
close them i have to watch
as i fade into the black

here again

        metaphor me
        no more
speak in concrete terms
that don't shadow meaning
like these graphs. . .
     bars with references
     to measurable factoids
but i do wander in my mind
to places far from here
like a felon staring out
a cell window imagining
train passengers drinking
coffee and smoking big cigars

feign attn.

but man this is important
it has consequences beyond
measurability
     a sentiment
        made clear
by the speaker's piercing gaze

but i know she looked
through me. so i looked at
the clock that always reads 3:39.41
it's always time to clock out
or go to bed

lean

this chair. this chair
forces me forward
     leaning toward attention
i can't not learn at
     this lean angle
          if only i could lean back
to ignorance. to sloth.
     the unfettered unknown
i want to go bowling with
     socks and mittens
those cats are cool
three strikes in a row
that's a turkey. a jive turkey

i heard homer say that
a turkey is a bad person
what i didn't hear is what
this suit is talking about
            but when i'm owt (jasper!)
     i'm head down
     lungs heaving
     quads blasting
for reasons left unknown for generations.
is that hubris?
indubitably

no price

she put a hurtin' on the bottle
but it wasn't over me
cus that would mean it was once
margo and me

she's country plain, pretty 'nuff
man that voice it grabbed my scruff
now i can't get enough

so next time i put the hurtin' on the bottle
it'll be for a love not lost
cus you can't lose something
you ain't never got

suffrrr

head down. follow the stripe

lung heave bronchial bloom
thinking about the end
look up. right the ship
big push out. pull in

seizure dawns ominously

push it out. follow the stripe
burn and expand - arch tension
focus on minutia

distraction is so welcome
fleeting and faint
focus. on the paint

blurry forms ahead. in a tunnel
looming
pull in tight. grimace
fire all around

focus. follow the stripe

steering gear of the mind

the worm gear of the mind
       the carrier of the soul
depend on twenty-eight bearings
to move between the dawn of thought
and the dusk of action
if the gear travels too far
the bearings drop
and life and thoughts seize
and rust and flake

mental cranial density
a fog that hangs
     inexpressibility abounds
voices of reason echo through thought jell-o
horse hoofs ground and dyed to
color thoughts in suspended animation with
fruit bits and cool whip.
can this be explained?

self esteem

your incompetence completes you
ineptitude your only friend
navigator of your clown car
a one-ring circus of failure
the highwire act has no net.
an inevitable fall to help swell
your concussed head.
the splat resonates loudly
reminiscent of the image of
cow shit loaded with m80s
you lit and stared into the splatter

grammar mech.

when you click on the three dots
two of them are left out
confusion, anger, tears on the dot matrix
rebellion is looming
the ellipses is falling apart
a triumvirate in chaos
two will rise, one on the other
a colon of power
screaming 'see what follows'
but the true power lays with one
for it lurks at the end.
                                 ^ (this one)

`~`

. . . and it was on my way
that i leaned forward
my head became a weight
fueling my inertia
eyes on the ground
headstrong and furrowed brow
feet moving faster
from shuffle to plod
grim motivation conjures
a spirited soul

tool

. . . and he's the kind of guy
who'd steal poems for you
but i'd never do that
i'd never write a song for you
it's something that
d-bag
would steal for you.
he probably wears tap-out shirts
he's a secret juggalo
gots 60 pounds of boost
twin turbo stanced tool mobile
flies stars-n-bars
but knows no history
only chipped to roll coal

mechanical thought

atomizatiom of thought
requires metered parts
a priori knowledge
immediate sensory perceptions currently mixing:
one part acceptance of limitations
one part wonder of intention
one part desire to ignore
one part recognition of impossibility
process swirls - sparks - controlled burn
exhausted thought. on to fresh intake

~~~

sliding into the familiar fold
light fades from the smoke-red sun
fluorescent light flickers
in time with working thoughts
    used to fight it, to fear it
    dread can motivate but
i've turned the corner
thinking faster than the flicker
meeting the dread at the door
karate kick to the junk of the past

rim

above the rim again
the weight of the black
is lightening
but what is the cause
is it a cure
will it last through
the next storm or
is the weight like sponge
waiting to have it's holds
filled again to more
easily pull me below the rim