"Quotes"

Wrapped and rolling around in this cottony mess
In an eiderdown that scratches me, like the bony finger of an old maid.
"Double the occupancy, dear child, if you wish to get anywhere..."
The mold is molding, the stale; decayed decay
Rotting piles of flaked skin have been gathering in room corners,
Whispering to one another of their disdain;
"She let us go without even so much as a tickle"
Of the rounded, warm thumb of another...

What is left to be said, when the silence burns brain cells?
Awareness crawls over every square inch of human 'being'.
I'm pissed to know its private thoughts, bitching me out as if I have a choice.
Love is not worn for one night, and filed away into a folder of 'thereafter'
Love has standards that defy explanation, that seek to be met and exceeded.
Even in pretending they do not exist, that conscience of mine will fry me
Scarring that decay that rots on, in its soul mate-less state.

Shut It.

Who edits raw candor with a straight face?
What scholarly program dictates degrees
That allow for elaboration on the intimacy of reflection?
Grammatical error can fuck itself sideways,
Impulsive confession is bold and should hold all acclaim.
It is ignorance to think that editors need exist in the world of intellect.
Ingestion can be the only examination- held
Honored in the integrity of trust without options.
But are there enough learned minds that leave the scroll on the floor where it fell
Opting for the heart and its innate sense of 'being', to temper nothing but the will to rest when weary?
Adhering to the gentle bubble of the unexplained, surface tension breaks for the beauty in that fluidity
Yet how many recognize and encourage the depth of shared perfection,
Leaving behind all manner of recognition and peripheral distraction?

None, in so far as I have sensed.
And even I, in my convoluted state, lack the sense of such statements;
For if I seek that which seems to be left uncovered,
Am I not the very banal cretin that I myself dread?

For now, I lay 'understanding' on the floor, and walk away quietly
Whispering of forgiveness with every barefooted inch that expands...

Pattern, destroyed.

Terse, spread. Congeal.
Parched, cracked- unforgiven.
Knowledge, nonsense
Right and wrong- blurred.

Tension, snapped. Wrecked.
Burgeoning, blooming- spent.
Selfish, succumbed
Flexing at the hip- nothing.

Disjointed, insanity. Spoiled.
Cocky ambivalence exudes
Fuck the pattern, swerving
Hit everything until it breaks.

This is a Post-Modern
Mind-fuck.
Boisterous and yet hushed.
Playing with 'suppose'...

Foreplay rots in my mind
Aged in conceptual platitudes
Forth & Back, Back & Forth
Marching sideways to nowhere

A lake, a farm, a midnight clear
Spontaneous ramblings appear
Ejaculation of a promise
Disappearing in the 'yes but no'

I've come.
Without.
Void- widening.
Textual perversion, exploited.

The night knows of secrets
That lie as they lie in wait.
Tossing and turning into,
Cul-de-sac's of waste.

Gas-less fumes expand
Carbon exudes from lungs that contract
In an ode to joy that perspires,
From probation that longs for closure.

In so many ways and on so many days
The hunt for protection from delusion dips further
Canyons of claims, and chasms of chains
Chink against bruised thighs that lack fusion.

Milk drips from a tap made of flesh
Lips purse in angered revulsion
Bivouac anywhere, just to get this 'fuck' on.
But the courage of a soldier kicks dirt into such thoughts

Knowing full well that the lingering doubt behind the reasons to pause
Will screech louder than all detonated bombs in existence.
And the rotted cake with its rancid cream
Will linger longer in the belly of regret.

So which the greater demon to suffice?
Who knows, in this world of symmetry
Dug into the prosperity of those that came to be
As a result of the love spent in worry-free youth.

Famine of the Heart

Yesterday, cries like an unfed infant
Consolation of overlapping hunger lies
Invisible in its non-existence.
Healthy leaves, manicured in care
Grow in love but a mere foot away
But a plant on the table, no-less
Can steer ache from the growling of this core.

Energy, poured everywhere.
And everywhere too, there is mess
I am unkempt in my administration of the 'just'
Regret is a rust stain, too far from the tongue
For I am yet not ready to taste of its poison.
I lick, instead, the barbarous (lie) promise, of 'soon'.
But not enough pound-for-pound evaporation has occurred
To illuminate, "yes".

Pervigilium swallowed the most recent bouts
Legions of erupted negligence, oozing out of dry pores
A leper in heat may know this iron stake
Jabbed in heretic-like nonsense
Caving in to nothing, but the arduous task of defeat
The mania of the moment slips menacingly away
As exhaustion surrenders to the border-less dark.

My heart is an unshaven prick,
Souring in the sediment of untouched beggary
Vagrant whispers pissed away all the love-songs
Written last month, once the cycle resumed.
My center of gravity, is a Madman's menagerie
Overgrown, wild, uncivilized, in revolt of the rest
Of this instinctual lawlessness.

Greed, replaced with heavy-bodied nothingness
This is the sentence of unplanned impulse
Those hands that once clasped in erotic delirium
Grow bony and cold, on this island of 'One'.
I gave the lead away to a beast reigned by senses
Who now, mopes in turbulent isolation
Happy to have passed on alleles before the severance.

But- happy enough?

Raw, from the throat down,
And God forbid anyone detour into that chasm that drowns in forced solitude
The sanity of man becomes easily destroyed from one sip
Drunk enough to consider nothing
But the appetite grown from the taste of something infinite

And even now, in this early morning hour-
Post coffee covered tongue,
Reprieve settles softly about the shoulders that tensed in composition
The quiet comprehension lives on...
A plain, somewhere high on an uncharted sierra
The meaning of restraint hangs high
Handed down in time,
When my isolation shifts tenderly
Into understanding.

The Heat of Unwelcome Thoughts.

The veneer is decades thick
I am unaware of its exact origin
Sufficed to say that its inception was early,
Far too early for me to have known any better.
The events of life ensured layer upon layer of graduated tension
Would only grow in the decades to follow.

What does it mean to sit bewildered by my own lack of definition?
Does it only caution me further, into dark halls that wag a deafening warning?
In rubbing elbows with indifference, I am granted reprieve of my own criticisms.
In keeping the mandatory company of assholes, I chip away this bark more effectively
In acknowledging my own fleeting insecurities, weakness seeps out- to my own detriment.
Bumbling about in more darkness bodes the sickly skin of indecision, for purpose- renewed.

Writing in riddle echoes these carnivorous musings
Shedding skin this thick can surely, only come, with reincarnation.
But that is the folly of this negative beast
Draped around and throughout, my attractive potential.
Stuck in everything again; mud, loss, punishment.
Saving not a trace of what might relax and soften the mind.

Who am I?
Away from this grimy, self-loathing?
This wormhole of decayed resentment?
The way my condition has sliced itself in two;
Equal parts: water-tight/misshapen.
Never was there ever a judge so unfailing, as the way I bite my own back.

Even now, each line holds a war crime
A story sans elaboration, a legend-less map portraying unmarked defeat.
I'm calling out for more 'nothing'
In the hope that eventually, I will evoke an echo- returned
Gifting insight that exists nowhere
Beyond the intrepid tripping up of my own two feet.

Upon completion or four 'sixteen week' sets,
I'm traveling higher.
The hubbub of tactful, complimentary beings remains critically hushed
I'm expecting the downward spiral to unravel
Abbreviating any earned credit with compulsory criticism.
These quiet morning moments stretch ahead several years... as the high of my own dissent, dissipates.

When I'm sixty and the regret of unspent energy has long since left me
I'll be earning kinder lines that grace this face.
Hoping to console myself completely
Through the knowledge that all I've been doing in the name of preservation
Has been enough to evade regret and bitterness
Relying on memories made in times long gone.

...psi...

Insomnia
His outline keeps me awake in the dark.
The cubic space surrounding me
Bows under the psi, growing from unspent torque.
Toss, turn, consumed by neglect
Sailing through a cotton sea
Rudderless.

O slick, ship's wheel
Grasp and twist with confidence
Navigate needs that bemoan the heavy night
Place weight where this mind struggles to capture
A ballad to croon.
I am warping under this long-echoing sigh
Stale.

Bitten, stretched, torn
Night deflecting strain, powerless
This sheep-less mood screams, a foot above the bunk I labor
Cold steel continually meeting that wet grove- alone.
I'd trade a thousand known moons
For a sliver-less sink, to drop in slowly,
And erase this lonesome patina

Virtue
Ensnares the strong and belts them in
For a praiseworthy ride, riddled with loss.

The trade here is eager, desired
But lonely and fucked, nonetheless.

Encrypted, Encased, Engraved...

Vociferous agony floats
Poking at limbs
Encrypted in Patience.
Slow motion slices through
Tension that slips, omniscient

Time holds the memory
Hidden delicately away,
Encased in iron and boneless intention.
Engraved with purpose, conviction
A Lingum of the Ages.

I am hungry.
Weakened not,  from coital loss
With a trigger finger of greatest strength
Aligned with enough Pause...
To last a fuckin' Lifetime.

Enough.

Flesh grows tired of morality's conflict.

Digging into hindquarters that sit idle-
Flexed and frustrated.

Soon, yes soon, soon what?

More waiting?

Perhaps an application
A vacancy filled...

Doubt.

Doubt is more a statement than a question.

Doubt harboring daily for the reasons to hold fast.

I am stuck fast where I need to be,
Steering away from hysteria
Of the like that is sure to disorient

Disorient and rob me of decency.
Such a proclamation
To point the well-articulated finger at my weakness.
The petulant accused is bored stiff
Tiring in this limbo of self-imposed loss.

The diet from man is thinned beyond recognition
To stand shoulder to shoulder would singe my knee-caps

Slander my nape...

Ravage my heels...

Collapse.

Enough for tonight,
Sleep comes not softly and that 3am gavel
Bangs relentlessly.

Enough.