You spoke.

I dropped my gun

and bit my tongue.

I swallowed the blood

and swallowed

and swallowed

until my gut bloated

and my fingers grew cold.

and still you spoke.




Stand there, hollow a moment.

Compose yourself,  in the whirlwind.

Sharpen your flat, staccato.

Minor key of your major tune.


I cannot dance

to such dissonance.

I cannot sing

so confused a song.


Do you want me to leave the stage

trip on the footlights

fall in flames on the director

I can’t don’t and won’t hate you.



Some Day

Let me tell you about the end because there’s always

an end.

The obliteration comes so slowly, a surprise

when it arrives.

How does nothing sneak up on you?

Slowly, ever so.


A creeping dot never near, now here

how did we get to this place,

so old, messed up, fat.


Something that can never get here

always does.