Some days you surface into,
and there's no distracting yourself from
that irrefutable inevitability that
- ultimately -
entropy will win.
No quantity of
authentic artisan coffee or online memes
or juicing can
pull you out of the
black hole gravity
of that one truth.
The evidence is everywhere:
the spiteful confusion of electrical cables
your sleep-stupid fingers
fumble and fail to untangle;
the mold on the bread you
swore would keep a few more days;
the putrid, burst-open remains of
a pink armchair, left to rot in a
stranger's front garden;
the scavenging army of crows that loiters,
waiting for you to die and, in the
meantime, walks ****** little footprints
around your eyes;
the oxidation of
so many dreams.

It's inescapable.
Might as well root for the winner.
Embrace the decay.
Take photographs of
rust, smashed glass, peeling paint, dead flowers.
Learn to love faded colours and the feel
of broken things.
Catalogue your most
interesting scars and mutilations.
And, while you can,
write poetry.

Look into my scarred eyes,
welcome to my dark life.
Watch as I hide behind
this smile, the tears peering
at you from behind it
like a curtain.

If only happiness was
as certain as death -
and love could be
obtained in a single breath,
and the whispering wind that
once blew so cold
could warm you up,
like a baby suckling
on his mother's breast.
For life would be bliss;
good days past
I'd never miss,
and time would be
but a reminder that
entropy ceases to exist.

*But time is an ocean,
shattering dreams at the shore.
Pain is our greatest
teacher when love can't
blind us anymore.

Clocks winding down.
Things,
They fall apart.
The lights wink out,
One by one;
And spiders spin,
In the halls of men.

Settle down
I'm sinking in
     to this dingy motel tub.
Stain the water
     with the paint
from my sardonic, smiling face
now, babe, I got a flower in my hatband and
a sloshing bottle in my white gloved hand.
     Do you think we'll still be laughing
                              in the morning...?

Blinking lights and bleary eyes
in a neon wash for a bloodshot lifetime,
and a swallow
     is all I wanna take.

     Besides, I'm still holding the bag.

Puddle up
pull the plug
     colors circle 'round the drain
Pollute the night
     with a laugh
from inside this facepaint bath.
And, babe, I been swirled 'round the world's full glass
and, for a bit, I guess, it was a helluva gas
but, ya know,
                  nobody makes it in the end...
                  
                  so where's the joke end or begin?

Reddened nose and ***** jokes.
Life's a vacation, I'm a pig in a poke
and a mouthful
     is all I need to take...

     We all get left holding the bag.

I gaze upon its splendor weeping
A masterpiece beyond fathomability stealing my breathe away as time stills and the emotions bloom...
This is love!
This is magnificence!
This is existence!

But only for a moment...
Only for eternity.