Candle Finger

Social digits make no difference

The mark on my head controls the seasons

And the air

And the fire

And there is no denying.

 

No other, so who am I?

Like others, I listen to the wind weep on my window

On my shoulder, I observe

On my final nerve.

 

I wonder who’s knocking

Because there is no door.

I wonder who’s counting

Because my time here is no more.

 

 

Saved By Selfless Belt

It’s always in the back of my mind

In the stack of vines

Divine

SO kind…

But not of mine

 

It’s an artifice so wise…

SO wise that even the skies divide before you arrive

 

No mystery of whom – or what I speak of

Or reach above

Or teacup…

THAT piece is bugged

 

Forever stuck in a numb-minded ruck

Buffalo Grass, neatly tucked

 

But whose niche is but a glitch?

I..

Lay and twitch…

As I wait for your ways to switch

Not to mention that every stitch is your wish

 

And every dish is washed by blood and moss

Nature’s cross isn’t dried with a cloth

 

But, with a belt instead

I take the books and feed my head

With only a plan, plan, plan to be dead..

Then resurrected by the peoples’ voices

 

The frequencies summon my soul in another body

Therefore, when it gets cloudy…

You must not allow your mind to get rowdy.

 

Silent viper… wear your belt.

 

 

 

 

 

iT’sAlLiNyOuRmInD

How am I supposed to know what’s right or wrong?

I’m living life just as everyone else

But everyone else – you – you’re all as nothing

And everything being nothing makes energy as everything

Thus, since everything is energy, everything is nothing

 

Without motion

Without emotion

We cannot move

 

It’s my turn and I cannot go

Because I am parked in the parking-lot by the park

I’ll be taking aim shorty

At the pork, but please, you’ll have to be patient

 

Surgery is….

 

Illogical

Contradictory

History

It’s illiteracy

It’s all in your mind.

 

Lunge Through Lunar

By radiating sun, may the masses extinguish their feeble desire, will or woe

But for me, I seek the glows of guidance underneath a razor’s eclipse

The patchwork horizon is as untouched as your flesh, which is my flesh

And which is my test is also your test

The sky is foreign

The moon is frozen

 

Bushes of Garble

The kisses on the pavement are noted with faint blackness

Because I warn of these speckles as they begin to bare color

A, um, application of lids is summoned under lids, the eyes

They are grotesque monstrosities, these visible marks of concern

The blackness is coming and it will consume existence

However, perception is deception – I await here, without consciousness

I’m pondering in a pond of fiber as the night grows thick

The ash coat is even tickled by luminous reflections

Society will be swallowed by roaches

These roaches are only visible to the lifeless lenses of positioned cameras

Not media

No media

No mind

Not mine

About, mmm, two or four or three or more scores

I’m torn by the hangers, by the anger from a stranger

My life is danger and my brain is unstable

Keep your distance, darkness

 

 

 

I L-L-L…

This is my saddest attempt to try something new

The line before really was written in cursive

I was simply trying to spice up my day; to try something new

But it didn’t really help – it even hurt a little bit

Nothing is new, and my poetry runs dry

It was destiny for me to be insane, I can see it in the sky

No time to rhyme, nor reason to express; zero consent

I wonder how many feel this

Rather, how many care?

You may read, but can you hear?

I go… nowhere

Just like that, my mood flips and turns

And upon my return, muy mind rejects concern

My mistake is, where, where

Who’s there?

You, there

Truth-slayer

Tooth-decayer

Why did you bring me to you lair?

I’ve always given you my all – my robe, even my hair

This is, is so, so unfair

Lost in word

Infrastructure in smile, congruent to tile

Thought is vile, but only for a little while

So smile; so sorry, I’m running out of room on the page

Which means an idea will too, give birth

I guess this is my finale for the night

I L-L-Love you and that’s that to say

Your name, your aim is to burn by the flame

Your game, is to be played until the end of days

I’m out of words

Thank you

 

Banana Ants

What it it that you’re pretending?

A slap to the chest – the result of an angered grimace

Discomfort to the banana ants

I know your story

A “never-will-be” type of treatment

I see all corners of your glass.

 

Fool yourself with the foolishness of approach

Yellow like the bus of “young scholars;” like the disgust in my reflection -

To see what you DARED to do!

To take step in a direction of calming auras – my wooden and starved throne, before the wandering eyes.

 

Broken.

Shattered.

Mop away that…

That “for me…”

That lane of lies – those of which I do not care to partake in…

Make sure to send me that poison – as if – make sure to bake a newer batch.

 

A Potassium connoisseur

A sewer of relations

A devastation to relationship

The shallowness of a kiss.

 

Find my words

Dig beneath the putrid tiles on which you walk

I don’t need anything – not from you, not from I

But as the robotic response is delivered, mailed and such, I foretell what is told.

 

Behold – you hold the mold – my heart – NEVER MORE

But, my surest mail-woman, return to the offices of dual tribulation

Two of one kind…

 

Ants ate the will – so ask them if you will – if they too tingle from your tainted touch

Too much laughter..

From me…

Because I now know what it is that you are…..

You are as the banana ants.

 

Scarred Brow

Reunited with unscripted worry, at last

But, my noose-obligated friend, you await your punishment like I and I

Patience are virtuous as can be

To be, or not – to await, or not

Or perhaps to even rot

Here – glance, the eyes, away from the surest fiend

But, but – my objections account for forgetfulness

As lost as mindless reminders – to those of which I am faulted -

Because of the eagerness to escape the wretchedness which soon awaits

“It’s okay.” It is not.

For every muscle torn: sarcastic foolishness equates to humble scorn

Disappointment from thee

And from me – to myself – with or without any help

Please return what isn’t mine

I didn’t mean it at all…

But, BUT – “I” am the one who suffers the consequence

My eyebrows tell the same tale

Guilt and…

 

Ten Minutes

I need about… ten minutes

Ten minutes to complete what I’ve been ill-fated to do

To write my right-est wrongs from soul-less souls beyond

 

nINE is on the screen, but the screen itself is not before me

It’s in places marked by X’s, by tens

By the tenants of treasured mud; dirt which is dried by rain

 

If the clarity of adhesive droplets reveal the boxes,

Then the X’s crafted by time will be disposed of – in ten minutes

Only four minutes to go.

 

 

 

 

M% Ten-Percent

This sleek glass, oh how it slices through my flesh with ease

The painted salvation, it calms my mind

It leaves my body at peace

 

I dig canals all around just to designate

A worthless pizza-purpose

Which is baked with hate

 

Red, red hats are red in my head

My head is red.