This bottle of
Two dollar merlot
Has got me
Rotted
Like sour grapes.

I want to rip open
Everything
And let it poor unto me,
I want my cup
To runeth over.

I stop drinking from the bottle,
And fill a cup
But there’s not enough left
To fill it,

My cup’s
Too big,

I need la botella roja
And a good tree to sit under.

If the Buddhists are right,
It’s rebirth for me.

Look for me in the future.
I’ll still be
Endlessly
Searching for you.

I am potentiality
Kinetic
Momentarily
Neither before
Or after
Where I was
Or where I was going.
Now I’m here
Now I’m here
And
Now
I’m
Here
And I’m going to keep on going
Flowing
Down the stream
The river
Of Conrad’s dream
Deeper into darkness
Firing blindly into the abyss
Heart
Lost in loneliness
I am here
I won’t find it back there
Where it no longer exists.
It’s in front of me
But all I see is what I remember
From the
Past
The kinetic moment
That was
Not meant to last.

I’ve lost
My fantasy
Of love
Like
An Atlantis
Utopian dream
My desire
A mythological
Unfound place
Under the sea
That to take you to
Is to drown you
In love.

I could
Marry you
The way you
Made me feel

The way you
Lifted me to heaven
On the back of Camael
And let us go.

We both fell
Our love
A pair of
Archangel’s wings
And now without my other wing
I roam,
Halfheartedly searching
For home
Looking up at
The sky we flew in
The sky
You and I
Were meant
To battle
Our demons in
But now Lucifer
Is closer than God
And it’s hard
Not to listen
Not to revert my
Unused love to rage
And self-loathing.

Me and the Devil
We’ve hung out before.
He told me the score.
That I’ll never
Find another wing
To fly
Away and sing
My love
And battle
Him again.
He wants to be my friend,
But I’d rather
Be alone.

So me and Satan
Signed a ceasefire
Agreement.
He courts me
From time to time
To join his side
But I already know
Where I want to be,
In the sky
With you
Until
I die.

INDULGE
IN TV
IN cars
IN houses
IN being cool
IN being hot
IN fucking

You’re so cool girl.
Damn you’re hot.
What? You’re bi?
You’re all about fucking?
You’re identity
Is based on sexuality?
You like labels?
You have no interest in real love?
I like your Beemer.
I like how fucking hot you are.
I’d like to make love to you
But all you know
Is sex is a drug
And you’re an addict
“An orgasm addict.”
So I could never make love to you,
Only pretend to.
Your heart is ice
And
Attention
Is your vice.
So go watch some TV.
There’s a new show
Called
“Reality”
And it’s me
And my notebook
And a video camera
And I’m walking alone
Through a field of dreams
Cornfields
And big city
Ghettos
And skid rows.

We’re having dinner on TV tonight.
Macaroni and cheese
And Tampico punch
And we added tap water
To the Tampico
To make it last
And we eat and drink it all
And it tastes
So much better
Than starvation.
The children love it.
In fact
They ask for it,
And mamma says
Ok,
And
Cries herself to sleep at night
Thanking God
That her children
Don’t know any better
And there
Is where
The real
Fucking love
Is.

TO DESTROY
What you CREATE
Is that love
Or is that hate?

To destroy
So
Much
Easier
Than
To create.

I think
of
no one
loving me
as I wrap my
hands in canvas
and
watch my
fists cry
raining punches
on my heavybag
and if I had
a cow carcass
in a meat locker
I’d beat hell
out of it too.
It’s not about
the beating
It’s about
the release
of that
easy destruction.

As if
It
Were
Never
Real
I lost it all
Like I was never meant to feel.

I cry
For the world
I will die in.

I traveled down
To where I thought
I would not be found
Where I could stay away from you
Where I could be safe
Away from how I feel
And I thought
If I lost my self
In the love
Then I lost myself
And now,
It’s hard on my selfish heart
That would rather give all its love away
Than stay inside
Where it
Turns to fungus
On my rotting soul.

It’s in this waking dream
I found
I needed love.

At night
I scream
In the silence
Of my dreams
For the one.

I haven’t retained my dreams in a month.
I used to cherish them when I was a child.
I shrug when I have dejavu
And say out loud
“I’m having dejavu.”
And then it stops.

I’m living my dream
As life
As poet.
I shrug when I have dejavu
And say out loud
“I’m having dejavu.”
And then it stops.