Deep Sleep Daydream

Thought I was
all out of words
always on
tip of tongue
spilling out
sprawling forth
wrote them all
on greasy napkins
fancy moleskines
sterile iphones
trusted laptop
palm of hand
and up & down
arms length

thought I was
drained of ideas
always on
verge of decay
spiraling out
forced forward
done it all
on greasy napkins
fancy moleskines
back of hand
up & down
arms length

I found I was suffocating
bottling lightning
strangling stifling
I find myself
shuttling forward
cascading backward
never here nor now
nestled in this moment

I thought I was
clear of this pitfall
long past that shortcoming
thought I was sheltered
when in truth
I was wide-mouthed
catching golf balled-sized
hail between my teeth

I think now
I am the same
as I ever was
no better or no less
I am trapped in a paradigm
a perfect portrait of my past
a deep sleep daydream
of where I want to be

Tiptoeing

To & fro
we go
backward

tiptoeing
into so-so
know-it-all

nothing
befell
everyone

a heavy boulder crisis

in spite of
a life of
comparative degeneration

where to go
when feel low
oh so

dead skin hardened
ready to be picked
& flicked away

listening to
a loud & deafening
lifeline

you can hear it in your chest

feel it overcome

feel it overwhelm

and I can hear
a piercing silence
as the beat is

ripped away
from the drum

nothing left but
suck thumb

head in sand
& struck dumb

it is so lonesome
to be alive
& not laugh

it is so wholesome
to be alive &
not care

listen to the loud
& deafening
lifeline

you can hear it
in your pulse

feel it overcome

feel it overwhelm

Number One

Ideal
I feel
wrapped
in bandages

Numb
I feel
like Number
One

Tingling
in finger tips
I feel pins & needles
holding up my smile

Unreal
I feel
wrapped in
everyday sameness

Caress
I feel
her kiss exploding
through thick ice

Aching are my bones
now I feel tendons
snapping
to become a working god

I feel so many things
but no anesthesiologist
can turn me
OFF

DNA

His dimples,
my face

His life line,
my palm print

His mannerisms,
my crossed leg

His need to leave,
my nervous tic

My composure,
his mirror image

His way of speech,
my need to please

His love for my children,
circle fully complete

I wear his boots & jeans

These genes are strong

Circle complete

Dreamwire

I find myself
grappling w/ possibilities
putting the cart
before realities

strangling myself
w/ dreamwire
before the vision
is ripe

we are living
in a YA novel
commissioned
by Stephen King

this shit is stranger
than Lovecraft
but it’s truer¬†than
the rabbit hole