simply saddened- solemn
somewhat singed- seared
suicidal? helpless? no...
homesick, heartbroken..
hearing and seeing.
things that aren't...
if you saw what i did,

Here it is, a youth-full request- another time i will say this
If you, U.S., wish to burn your kids, take a glimpse of this wish
Torture, terror- why send them? why send them to take the blows

broken, battered- batteries dead, deceased
dealing 'destruction'- employing structural DISorganization
damned, ignored- an engine, idling- innocent, instantly

you see me before i see you
you walk up close, so you can be near me
slowly, tentatively- eyes on me
watching, wondering, worrying what

you stop- just out of reach- eyes locked

A room, a ring, people to care
A thought, a dream, something to share
A way to stay sober, a short way up
A way out, over- away from stuck
Inspired by some of the simplest things

an allergic reaction, alternating
between, beneath, bourne by blood
carrying chemicals; coursing all directions
dominating, dimming- donning for me my mask
every eery shred- doubt- eeks in

pouring my past out onto paper
with due regards, i'll finish... later
wasting time applying myself
cigarettes in between, wasting health
wondering and worrying worthlessly

words on paper, written neatly
addressed to no one, sweetly
wanting words, wishing for love
futile, considering the above

words on paper, penned discretely

To everything there comes an end and for this end it's time
And to the end I shall lend an ever-so-thoughtful rhyme
Never in a million years did I dream today was the day

tourniquet taut, trapping air
blocking escape, breathing impaired
speaking shakily in early morning
before i drink. my family warning
wondering why i would do this to them

One more time, i just need another drink.
The relapse is beginning- i don’t want to think.
Hennessey, beer, vodka- clear, gold or brown.
Only to rest- aware or not- i want to drift, down...

‘locked up,’ alone, no one to hear me
to listen to my words- i can see clearly
nothing important to you, not directly
but a personal approach- an ethical theory

the purpose of a paperweight
ink drying as i instigate
or attempt to, at least
my goal: slay the beast
not the ones you've seen in your dreams
and not the kind who split at the seams

flipping through channels- frantic
catching seconds of sequels and repeats
ridiculous ‘news’ stories, dumb antics
a television signal uninterrupted impedes
remote control in hand- surfing

talk about a lousy play on words
haphazard abuse, short little blurbs-
thoughts connected, maybe, but only barely
holding together and making sense only rarely
making no cents, not a single dime