We’re chaos
in aluminum cans
Strings un-taut, Lost
between frequencies
Flimsy apologies
Trustfalls into
silver echoes that
break the billows
with words, Procured
from simple snips
Careless grips
Recycled mosh pits
where beatings
feel warm, Chloroform
against heaving chests
Shrink wrapped allies
around raised wrists
like admission requests
Inhaling minutes
behind the bumpers
of someone else’s
soldered success

When the wrong turn
takes you to the right place
it will be too late
The picnic will have ceased
and the life you thought you knew
will have aged
The wrinkles will coincide
like checkered blankets
that welcomed the previous occasions
with busy hands
You’ll know because the wind
will billow her sweet serenades
just right, nudging her whispers
that could have been memories
You’ll stare at the empty road
like an hour glass
the dirt, whirling like grains of salt
creating mirages out of lost time
When the wrong turn
takes you to the right place,
you will have missed out on
the fruits of labor
while joyriding past signs
meant to welcome you home

Between the Lines

Drawing conclusions in
charcoal encryptions
Palms black
with muddled resistance
Fold the canvas
Double the chances
Take the queue
from these second glances
Imprints, follow
like hidden images
Inkblots with no
verbal emittance
No rhyme or reason
Let’s set it straight
Doctor the answers
before the martyr
says it’s too late
I’m no artist, but
my hands still ache
Sketching solutions
Algebraic equations
Mastering doodles
in sidelines, and hoping
for a revelation
A showpiece with too
many smudges
toward eternal


have grown
stepping stones, but
still weep
the nocturnal creeks
you think
I can’t hear
Rugged paths, invested
where railings stand tested
Rattled like cages, then
freefalling against
each alibi conjured
I’ll kindle that passage
with a lighter heart and
I’ll remind your
sleeping breaths
that skipping steps
only makes the howls
farther apart


and your body still slumbers
against the rattling registers
Heaving, dreaming
in unison with the
moans and groans
And I’m wondering if
the chemicals are still awake
Sliding down your veins in
licorice twists
or if they’re floating amongst
each exasperated exhalation
Making company with the
warm emittance
of this crackling furnace
…I tiptoe just in case

Reblogged from notebookescapeartist

Must’ve spun
one hundred globes
with outstretched fingers
pressed firmly against
curvy, colorful replicas
in hopes of landing some
self fulfilling prophecy,
pre determined destiny
Wishing upon blurry escapes
inside fortune telling knickknacks
and even now, I sit waiting
for the spins to break free
from calloused convictions
and seasoned fingertips

Reblogged from notebookescapeartist


Self diagnose
medicate, sit back
google symptoms
change the terms, squirm
at the natural born killers
you’ve unnaturally upturned
the kickbacks, the oval shaped
fine print dollar stacks
unclench the wrists
of white robed strangers
breathe in
release, blurry disclaimers
clear heads and
liberated acceptance


Walking along the medians
of our stalemate ventures
we’ve craned necks
in peculiar stride

We walk
instead of drive
between the cluttered avenues
that brush our tightrope follies

Cuticles bleeding, waiting
to grow wings, while kings
waddle, bumper to bumper
against the causeway

of our valiant

Spring Cleaning

Straw bound brooms 

tickle yesterdays noose

Closet moth balls

Chimney flues, Clear 

the pipes

for Time’s
untimely lecture, Repent 

from throats 
courtyards, Groomed

birch wood benches

Vitality, resurrected
as we replenish upon
her stable legs
Let’s mend these beds
before the plank
bends, Swept
from side step


tap windows
teeter atop feeders
bellies, full
poised like fire
through barren attire
a sign, they say
a ray of light
muffled between
plastic wrapped panes
peeled back
in exchange
for the letters
we promised to write

Sugar Coating

Chemicals trace outlines
like chalk on tainted
pavement, Dark
Thickened body heat
Marked with numbers
then served as treats
Masquerade presence
for uninvited guests
passed like joints
from one mouth
to the next, Fires set
upon fraudulent haloes
borrowed from
neighborhood patios
With cups of sugar
fueled bright atop
late night coverups
Sooner or later
You’ll all evaporate
Smothered amongst
contact fumes
Perfect strangers
perhaps revisiting
those familiar neighbors
for black tea reminders
and salt, over sugar
for the seething wounds