Slow burn, the death of presence,

Fearful of moments that don’t exist yet.

Chatter and noise,

Father burying his daughters in oil.

Clog the courts for years.

Sheltered pets, homeless vets—who are the real animals here?


Crowd goes wild, watching the so-called famous fall to the side.

Easier to pretend, pretend to leave

A lover you couldn’t save,

Won’t let you forget why you came.

Run for your life, or stay and watch it all fade.

Tearful, afraid.


Let me run away with you…

You’ll never know how much I cared.


I am missing.

I miss writing scribble resembling prose, conversations going nowhere, rhythmical inflections predisposed.

I miss hands of youthful vigor, broken moments, guiding lights and triggers.
Fighting exhaustive battles between two poles, long defeats, stumbling, whereabouts unknown.

I miss the sentiment and platitudes, taking cities one pavement at a time, reliance and gratitude, longing again for the first time.

I miss the fight, the excuse to stay,
slipping under the cover of night,
in the getaway car so I can run away.

I miss the days, darkened rooms, the palpable dismay,
looking for corners where I can hide in the fray.
Under shelter, accepting surrender, the ambient light of this new day.

I am missing.

Creature Comfort

I have an iPod 5,000 songs deep,
and I listen to the same 15 songs
rotating in and out every week.
Failure, Wu-Tang- -Quicksand,
A battle between
“Delusional”, “The Nurse Who Loved Me”, maybe “C.R.E.A.M.”

I can’t pretend to exchange
comfort for change.
I’m ok with here,
I know whats next, and how it’s arranged.
Looking more and more like a soundtrack
of passing cars, texting drones with one finger on the wheel,
their foot nowhere near the brake.
Speeding along but not awake.

I don’t want your low-level hum.
Autotune, inflated drums,

Focused on the daily gnaw, and then given away.
Headphones allow these beats and progressions
to remain my own.

Not for the sake of repetition,
not worried about what you think,
my ears ring
and circling thoughts escape.