The creeping danger of all things
Eager and foamy with red lips
Congregating between the auburn brows
Meticulously sketched up on my forehead

Closer to me seems the crumbling cliff
Sending it's stones heavily into the drink
I become uncertain of a sure thing
That today, old gravity will surely fail me.

My wings are clipped, my beak is broken
These vicious talons are all I have left.
I am an eager lizard kicking at the gravel
My clumsy scales quiver at the Sun

Shame becomes a ill companion
Coughing and beckoning to be groomed
Flipping through dusty crackling pages
In a memory book called Regret

One day I may savagely rule this world
But today, I am afraid.

Tease

Six sided shapes decorate your walls

An old piano in your living room

Your bed rest several feet above the ground

I can tell you enjoy your sex

You're paint yourself from head toe

and drape a loose shirt across your breast

A tight squeeze of denim jeans

The clinky janlging of cheap jewelry

You like to sit real close to me

But your eyes fight to make contact

I'll let you steal a few sips of my drink

As I try to relax into my seat

I think you want just a taste of me

You couldn't handle the whole thing

I want to lick you like you're ice cream

You're just as cold, but not as sweet

Today I Got A Haircut

I am not a poet. But I am inclined to write. 

Silly how distant one can feel from his own thoughts.

As if a thought is anything to own.

Ownership. "This is mine. I claim this."

Certain desires arise from the grip of claim.

"I claim this and therefore it is mine. 

I shall protect it, care for it, and respect it."

Over time:

"This has gotten old. What else is there to claim?

I will neglect this, reject this, deflect this.

Yet my clasp shall remain tight upon my ownership over this."

At least, this is true for me. 

Truth. What is it anymore?

Has truth always remained the same, or

like a pocket of wind, or body of water

is truth defined heavily by it's immediate influence?

I.e. gravity, temperature, the moon, a vacuum between adjacent buildings.

I am no mystery.

There isn't much to me.

I want food, drink, fucking, and popularity.

There is the corner of humanity that fits me.

And though I am not mysterious, 

I keep myself hidden,

Fear...

Staring at the monster face to face.

My own personal devil.

By no means am I spectacular.

I am ordinary, plain white bread, bleached of all nutrients.

Current state: edible but not nutritious.

Current mood: excited but not necessarily excited.

Plagued by a lack of education.

I am an animal wandering the streets.

I dodge cars in traffic and pick at the scraps thrown to me,

with the audacity to be choosy.

I am filth.

Becoming the trash I consume.

I am grim.

The settling murderous black clouded dust.

There is a war within me.

And I am the War.

Victory: Life

Penalty: Death 

Obstacles: Honesty, courage, vulnerability, clarity, assurance, confidence.

There is a long drawn out wire before me.

It is suspended at a terrifying height.

It stretches out and across into the darkness.

And I know something is on the other side.

Will it be wonderful?

With decorated frills and erotic confetti?

Or is there only more darkness, more wire, more suspense?

Who cares.

This is my corner of humanity.

I might have chosen it.

I might have built it.

Either way, I have staked my claim.

And I accept that this claim may only be a phase

an oscillating phase that takes an eternity to come full circle

And this softens the blow

pads the pillow

But I am not a poet

Just a catastrophe with a built in panic button. 

Rust and Ruin

There's a breeze blowing on me

It's whistling songs into my ear

I can hear all my memories

But I can't hold on to anything

I took a walk last Saturday

without ever leaving my home

I thought of you coming through my door

And then I woke from a dream

I've been tumbling down empty streets

Avenues trimmed with rust and ruin

Leaning against tall buildings

I used to play it down, now it's coming round

I used to shake it off, now it's shaking me

There's a breeze blowing through the trees

All my nerves go nerve goes weak

And I go down

to the middle and the surface below
to the trembling streets all torn apart

Down to the trouble ringing out like a siren

Down to the pressure and its folding me properly

I've been tumbling down empty streets

Avenues trimmed with rust and ruin

Leaning against tall buildings

I'm trying to hold on but everything's crumbling

Ok you've proved your love
I get it, you want me
Every phone call, every text message
You're torturing us both

Do you really want me to be your man?
I can be a tireless effort
But I can't tell if you actually understand
Or if you are just as selfish as me

You can kiss me, we can fuck
Perhaps somewhere in there make love
It's my head that isn't there
Nor here or anywhere

I get it, you're feeling guilt
You swallowed before you could taste it
Now there's a lump stuck in your throat
Choke it down with haste

For a while I felt guilt
It lingered in every blink
My legs were set to run far away
But I waited in disbelief

Click

It's midnight in my bedroom
I've got the stereo on
It seems everyone is asleep
All except lonely me

I can't escape the envy
It's the old biting jealousy
How can I not compare myself?
If i could only look away

Often I think I'm better
than every man around
More common I find myself worse
Unstable, unsound

What will be of all this effort?
All this time behind a screen
Mirrors of mirrors, rows and rows
The more I click the less I know

Over it

I'm not your future or your past
I'm the present
I'm not your future or your past
I'm present in this moment
I'm not looking to guide you
Isn't that your job for me?
I never asked you to do this
How could anyone ask such a thing?
I'm not a virtue to restore you
I'm not a creature just because
Even in my skin, I'm an animal
Everything without is within
I'm not your peacetime, I'm the war
Fighting for later, fighting for before
I'm just a message in a bottle
You are the sea to carry me
Hmmm
Over the ocean
Hmmm
Over, the sea
Hmmm
Over the ocean, I'm
Hmmm
Over it all, now I can see
Hmmm
You live in slow motion
Hmmm
You're moving all around me
Hmmm
I plea for the notion
Hmmmm
I believe what I see
Hmmm
It's only cold water
Hmmm
It's thinner than air
Hmmm
A taste of that potion
Hmmm
No two things are fair

Dickery

Hickory Dickory Dock

Last night a man got shot

Over a gold chain

The shooter had no brain in his membrane 

or respect for life

A man was ended last night

Hickory dickory dock

Dickery Dickery Dare

He had his hands in the air

wave a gun like you just don't care

A puncture through the heart

to accessorize the clothes he wears

We live in the same city but we can't share

Dickery Dickery Dare

Hippity Hoppity Ho

Blood spurts with just one blow

Blood stains on the girl just he met

Staring up at her facing his death

her number in his wallet dripping red and wet

Hippity Hoppity Ho

Chickory Cherokee Woo

Guess what their teaching in school

how to sing nursery rhymes at three

Instead of who these kids could really be

Have them write their name in cursive one hundred times

over the murder docket sentencing them to two hundred lifes 

These children are bleeding out in the street to nursery rhymes

Chickory Cherokee Woo

Hickory Dickery just won't do.

Mr. Young

You're a hard hearted little boy

with a harsh and critical attitude

You whip your little yellow tongue

snapping out small, subtle insults

and poison the air

You'd like to think we're not similar

but, brother we are.

Though a canyon separates our cultures

we are bound by nature,

mother fucker.

Frankly, I don't like you much

and that's what I like about you

That you could care less and never more

keeping your nose up

while you look down

You dress as sharply as you speak

and sometimes just as colorfully

But I hear you mostly talk about

"Weak shit" and "rude shit"

and that is you

I heard you bragging about yourself

how you stay away from outer influence

yet you criticize how your brothers live

and offer your best advice

behind their backs (hypocrite)

I appreciate your existence

the gift of lessons you bring

that I was sort-of once like you

except taller, bigger,

and grateful of most things