rendezvous with my losing streak

(you had everything

and yet you took everything i had)

 

reaching up to touch the gutter

i utter my final words

emotions stir among the flutter

then stutter and gasp

wounded by the wicked asp

i flow further down into the drain

the leg raised to make the one legged crane

is disgusted by sewage

 

a drunken homeless man is screaming,

“you all think you’re entitled

this is america baby

apparently all of you sums of bitches

have never read the constitution!”

 

i slide my hand into my pocket

grip my knife

this is my life

 

i look up and see two parallel stars

very, very far

away

they twinkle with indifference

 

i release my grip

slip into the shadows

of the light

disappear from his sight

and finish the rest of my bottle

 

would i feel safer behind curtains

i am uncertain

cause i can’t really see without my glasses

which i rarely wear

because what passes as viewable

is not the reality i perceive

 

if faith without works is dead

then you are deceived

if your works really demonstrate

your faith

 

but is it worse if what you believe

is not embodied in the life you lead?

and your existence exemplifies an empty shell

i dwell among the swell

of bread that is unleavened

a one day pass to heaven

is askance of the circumstance

of seedy motel sex

satellites may be objects

which rotate and revolve

but humans can’t call

upon tonight’s full moon

to fix the frayed fabric

of their lives

 

poets cannot hide among their words

unless you are a poet like me

when people read and say they don’t understand

i don’t feel like a genius

just isolated

singing the lyrics,

“oh lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood”

 

i’m only expressing

all my second guessing

but when conversations become

window dressing

i’m left caressing

my consciousness

like a masturbatory experience

 

nothing i say is serious

it’s just the ejaculations

of an orgasmic mind

organic

where either calm or panic

is the placement

of past particulars

your vernacular

won’t pass through

the bowels

of your particle precepts

 

i am neither failing nor adept

i am a precept formed

within the follicles of your frailty

 

i don’t really exist

except in the shades

you have drawn

to protect you from

the annoyance of photons

fumigating the landscape

 

dialogue is a date rape

since i won’t willing give a fuck

you say i’m stuck

but it’s because your seamen is sticky

 

i’ve slipped myself a mickey

but i am still not seduced

 

***