(lifeforms) The Number You Have Reached Has Been Disconnected

perfectly painted
my pained reflection
noticing names
fanning old flames
in the garden of imperfections

Amongst the mold, old stories
and historic lines
my mind rolls back,
dirt floors
shacks
the wooden forms
that formed
the bristles
in the attacks

is it my name
or the other name
is my face in the same place
or is it smashed in again
your alleyway drunk
vagrant's demise
the bag of mystery
in the he must have been sad
for some reason
you know, don't you know
don't you quiet now, leaf-less, lifeless
lifeform, formless, before the storm,
raining non-stop,
soda laid over playbills fizzing into the gutter of the sunday mornings
of eternal nowheres
the last few bubbles
erupting and bursting
into the dank
drunk tank
darkness.

-------

In the void, cement tastes the same as rainbows

-------

What wasted words will I share with someone who won't want to remember me?

-------

...

-------

...and then?

Stray Pillars / Unmarked Exits / Dark Stars

from the balcony
of the abandoned house
with a hundred rooms
the mercy and discipline
disappears
amidst the screams

you'd be well
to stay upstairs
and watch from a distance
the idiots parade
there is no admission
no honest admonition,
just the music they played
to travel through time
by unraveling how
the days are long
and why life is fraught
with confrontation
disease and fire.

there is part of me
that peeks around corners
where I watch something dark
and sharp surviving
those days cave in to these
and create a pearl
where surface charms
distract from past harm
and rejection,
indecision.
what monster comes out from under neath the lid?
monster movie portrays
victim as a fragile id
and everyone dies
first coverage news at nine
how does anyone
say it with a straight face?

by this point
your brain is filled
with so much useless information
unmarked exits
you never get off at
this is the way
you becalm your regret
over paint the deluged dark stars
with soft scars
but still changing and yet
this is the way
through the valley
over the river where
an old sense of self shivers
bank bound, stranded,
map-less and haunted
and the dealer delivers.
strapped down to a pillar
you learn to pay,
like the old days
this is the way.
(return)