Top-heavy angel

falling down
from comfort cloud

misdirected missiles
in the form of
fallen feathers

a clusterfuck
of pinwheel emotion

witless
and thrown out
on the street

witnessed
so many dead
and not forgotten

I count my blessings
on my angel’s eyelashes
and toenail clippings

top-heavy,
my angel
misdirected
and
dragging
me
down

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Elation

I have no new tales to tell
same old soul for sale

I find myself
putting up fences
of rotted wood
& rusted nails

bent to puncture

I self-deflate
waiting for elation

salvation,
sunken very mention

Hallucination

I hallucinated her face
in a deep embrace
with madness

I dreamt my downfall
in a sweat-drenched
5 o’clock shadow

a nightmarish day
sinking the moon in
an anchored lockjaw

Asphyxiated

I am on a plane,
hijacked
crashing into
your inhibitions

you stole mine,
like bright lights
shining through
my window seat

fear for your life,
so excited at the thought of death

my life is splices,
memories
on a reel-to-reel
splayed,
peeled
for you to feel

my hands are shaking
but I’ve
never
been more calm

at the crash site

survival,
out of question

asphyxiated
in
your descent

Confession

I have a confession
to make:
I hate poetry

it’s a struggle
to read
& write just the same

I am not moved
by most
of the poems I read

either there’s no soul,
spirit stripped
from each stanza
like a ghost
rattling Times New Roman chains,

or I just can’t relate

I had a normal childhood,
my parents raised me right
I was never beaten
or raped
or bullied
or put out on the street

so why bother?

why do my words
come out in broken
refrains

probably for the same reason
I wanted to be a journalist,
work for the newspaper

it defies logic

so if you’re reading this
right now
and you want to stop,
and your eyes are glazed over
and you wonder why
you clicked here in the first place,

I completely understand

At Core

Do you remember?
the last time
you never wanted more

satisfied completely
with one hit
one kiss
one shot
one fuck

accepting of the skin you wear
instead of trading it
for a glamorous pelt

i think i’d rather be
fresh & bleeding
simply living
tragedy embracing

but
there
is
always
MORE
to
accumulate

consume
inhale
inject
swallow
snort
ejaculate

we are unsatisfied entities
insatiable
in every aspect
if we do not
accept at core

needing more
needing more
needing more
can’t ignore
needing more
needing more
needing more
so sore
needing more
needing more
needing more
who we are at core
needing more
needing more
needing more
it’s internal war
needing more
needing more
needing more
what we are for

do you remember?