Robots

World of drones, we all let go
of each other, of ourselves.
Your face in mine, in pantomime,
encrypted, frozen, years of lost time
…you’ll never get back.

Is this how you imagined things,
when you set out?
City streets, crossroads, seeking new faces.
Not the same, no less strange-
because everything has changed
…and you watched it slip away.

Quiver

To live inside a song lyric,
how precious that would be.
To cast aside the melancholy,
pleasant artifacts for you and me.

To walk on a movie set,
every line fed, better than the last.
The thrill of those first glances,
rewritten, another scripted romance.

To live inside this poem here,
dreading fear, knowing this will pass.
Lovers knocking buildings down,
pulling rubble from the ground
sharing affections of a world
left quivering.

Drink

I’ll keep you in this bottle,
watch you ferment.
You’ll age just fine,
when I slide the cork screw in,
you’ll satisfy my errant need for wine.

Because I am weak,
with you in my mouth,
swallowing each gulp,
until I black out.

So close to my lips,
each swallow
adds to your allure.
I’ll push the stopper back in
and come back time and again, to refill.
My lust palpable,
Cold, and bitter at first.
The need to taste you,
quenching my unshakeable thirst.

Because I am weak,
with you in my mouth,
swallowing each gulp,
until I black out.

Thaw

It feels 10 degrees colder in here than it is
I can’t feel my extremities,
my feet colder than the snowflakes hitting the pavement.
The clock stares at me from behind the walls again, closing in, a thaw begins.
No Sunshine- why are Mondays always the same?

I feel distance straddle the dwindling minutes,
til I forge ahead to the land of faces and forced smiles.
I’ll play happy if it’s enough to pull me through the chilled air.
It’s the only way out of here.
Swaddle me in your warmth.
The love of two souls,
who have grown so cold.
Together.
Apart.

On the Corner Again

**It’s time to reflect on how we got here, call it disease, call it spiritual death or a product of environment or learned behavior–it’s killing people, loved ones, friends, parents and kids. Maybe we stop pointing and start redirecting. Maybe we love people and not their decisions.
Maybe we just decide that some people’s struggles are uniquely their own-
It’s still a struggle.
Your hand in mine and mine is yours.
I will help you my fallen brother or sister.
Life is what matters, life is worth living.
I pass along my love to you.
-Tim

On the Corner Again

Hanging at the street corner one more day,
a block from oblivion, a few steps into decay.
Searching for a quick turnaround,
keep him in your mouth long enough to swallow the pain.
Parceled you a twenty, fell to the ground
ambition, a fantasy society passes down.
That twenty spot won’t last long-
and on to the next one.

A quick fix between the toes, another moment blown.
On her knees again to score an afternoon bundle, with twilight nowhere near,
or scrape some tar free,
not thinking for a moment how she got here.

Grasp the illusion of dignity,
exchanging a few minutes of relief.
Back to the corner for another round,
feeding this incessant need.