by which I of course am referring to this keyboard
that i’m writing on now
funny how that works ain’t it
62 minutes until my shift ends
John Prine & the Korean war don’t quite match where I am
clicking pool cues penetrate my headphones
I wonder how many bad games of pool it takes to shake a man’s confidence
by my estimate the answer is never enough
guys that can’t shoot love teaching girls how not to shoot
but the girls don’t usually seem to mind
how very 60’s highschool of it all
maybe Mr. Prine does have something here to say
47 minutes until my shift ends
people trust engineers warns my engineering professor
people trust you to know things he furthers
people trust us to explain
I wish they wouldn’t
tech support & translators for parents & grandparents
people want answers but only when they thought they already knew
40 minutes until my shift ends
pretty good, not bad, I can’t complain
seeing my old highschool teachers at the burrito place where I worked
sinking in the mire of chicken, brown rice, & black beans for minimum wage
ain’t it funny
I can smell the 45 pieces of steak & chicken I grilled when I get home
ain’t it funny
the outrage over the price of guacamole
33 minutes until my shift ends

The seasons shift
Fade away
Gets a bit colder each bitter day
Moment after moment slips from my hand
Stuck here struggling to understand
You moved on but I'm paralyzed
Guess by now I should have realized
Start walking forward
Turn around
To past it seems I am hopelessly bound
Loving you making me lose my mind
Still I am unable to leave memories behind
You lost yourself somewhere along the way
Why am I still addicted to who you are today?
Is it because I have forfeited so much for you?
Because you're familiar?
Have no clue
When will soul finally know serenity?
Life plunges me deeper into insanity
Why is the universe unfair?
World so cold
I had it all
Now nothing to hold
Begins wearing heart's patience thin
I start to bleed and am left with no skin
Falling backwards into pit of insecurity
Every minute without you feels like eternity

Bullace
hedge haematoma
blue-black against the fading,
once young green,
bruising for sharp winter thoughts,
clean frost lines,
untouched snow-blank focus

but before, to swell and drop
in the last pale suns,
feed the field mouse, rabbit
and endure the muds

This hikikomori soul
seeking to curl up
in silent conversation with a duvet
and two fat pillows
as the petulant winds blow
arguments

The tedious graveyard shift comes around again,
The ghosts and ghouls of my past clocking in.
We meet each other at the silver gate;
We greet each other with the same stare each night.
I wonder if some will stay overtime with me under this moon,
Or if we can led our own paths once more come morning.

An afterglow read
in leaves fallen
as long shadows, earlier than before,
stretch tales of easy warmth
to breaking

We are here

Toe roots touching soil
that’s gathering in
at the sharp memories
of ****** frosts

Across the rec
the final shouts of bike rides
and punted ***** are heard
to defy the dry prickle of central heat
and the long, magic dark

My blackberry love
you stain fingertips, lips and tongue
bittersweet purple
grown on a summer of promise
to end by watching the day
retreat past equinox
feels like loss
and though the longer night has virtues
there are dangers too
behind the fairy lights
and dazzled trick or treat
the immutable cold waits

Mother, I starve myself till darkness
just so I could swallow the moon

Winds ever shifting -
dark on into light
   This feeling won't be lifting,
no! No, not this night.

   Winds ever shifting -
this..this can't be right
   My mind won't stop drifting -
it'll last forever, won't it?
   This Godforsaken flight.

I am drifting
A very lonely course.
Winds ever shifting,
My voice continues hoarse.
With the words
I will never say
And the herds
I shepherd every day.
It's time to awaken
But here I lay
Because those winds -
All they do is shift away.