023rd

small paths etched out by our daring young rodents lead us down a wandering bay side hill small paths before us, taunt us with movements say what you like, they do as they will. You lead my in reluctance to waters edge reticence in your mind and slowly seeps to me An arm encircles my own as we lean into the hedge lost in snow drifts, come home to me

Stripped off my skin and hung in the closet made sure to keep the creases straight it hung there loosely and smiled droopingly back at me it seemed glad to rest a while without all of my needs

how lonely these painted couples be farming no farms for they're trapped in permanency thin line of mouths sealed shut in the process their thoughts can no longer be among us forced to watch and hear tourist after tour group debates on their expression, of which they had no choice hear a thousand conversations they can never participate in knowing how to set the record straight        its because I was painted this way   no matter how much you look to find more there is nothing to me but the brush strokes bestowed on me there's no more I can glean from the seems found on my crinkled canvas surface pulled tighter in every restoration  

Having yet to reach what it is you call living Waiting to see what the world thinks it keeps giving Comfort warmth and precious sunlight deep within a fortress only flesh may enclose me for she wont clothe me they'll scoop out the rest.

A week of drinking every night brought me back to your door the pull of its handle, the seams where you lost your keys in the floor I shuddered and stammered through a voice box by the locks you told me I had no more need to knock Buzzed the door open and the can of worms came with Nothing occurs smoothly when I hadn't thought of what to say next

I’m finding myself proving my worth To everyone, and seemingly no one at all I prostrate myself on a classroom table An offering to the academic gods Nameless Faceless Beings Of assumed infinite absolute knowledge This cognitive conglomerate congregation The oligarchy of matriculation Masters of mind manipulation My intellectual droppings are Simplified Objectified To the two dimensional land of Letters Grades Paper. Reduce me to your usefulness Tell me how I can be applied.

I'm counting my steps in cigarettes as I'm walking home from work It's just one more day and a hundred more ways to see how hard it hurts to be a one man army I'm playing in a one man band I'm fighting a two front battle there's just me and the man

My plastic wall paneling is slick and outdated my wagon wheel chandeliers are understated out shown by wear and weathering staples jump from the floor from the old carpeting they ripped up my floors and rolled them tightly threw them out without an inkling of how much relief they could steal when facades are dropped, and composure kneels the shutters went next, ripped from the outer shell how far my bits have scattered is a secret they don't tell though they're needed less without their tether the holes remain from when we were nailed together family belongings now occupy my walls and windows the faithful door left unlocked so they may co

distance falls from the fictitious bells ringing without please    You have seen the red wheel barrow        felt the slick polish of the Polish mans shoes down on Main Street Every new line is only an idea we've borrowed It is not found in reflections cast in dew drops    or extracted like DNA from the cells of your thoughts not thoughts of those former retold in new form    but found in farther placed symbols and torn from scenes seeded in an audience's common ground                        this is not where explorers are found

solitaire gets played in the background like the movies mother would clean to the drowning sound of traffic lulls me to surrender to another working afternoon eyes shut to induce enchantment manipulating the tires to ocean waves wet pavement makes their replacement a subtle but comforting change if they remain long enough they will wash over these four walls crash against their stone base until it is no more than a pile of sand weathered away my prison will stand liberating me from the office stalls