cotton shooter

licking your plate dry
picking up pennies on the street
reusing dryer sheets for weeks
potato chip crumbs from the bottom of the bag

embarrassing
but filled with smiles

the dropper

be my professional decision maker
turn this life around
pick the point where i should turn
run it into the ground

i cry all the time
in every way
but your cries make me ill

same fucking thing
day after day
wake up
light up
walk away

please decide which piece is next
which filthy, sandaled step
or choose the wild card deposit
your depraved throbbing bail

cravings
never stop
red ink
always clots

ending

a purse of her lips with a raspberry tinge
and a galaxy of pores stretch over skin
dirt and grime are wiped away
but the feeling is there to stay

crumbling smiles at his pain
the muscles pull at one corner
a man's tears can warm her
or so he thinks

it's just a reaction
a defense mechanism

pills

psychology is my religion
with narcissistic pain
with endless repetition
digging back to the beginning

a rosary of SSRIs
a hopeful prayer of lies

it's legal meditation
such a change for me
in a medicated nation
dying to be free

my holy father comes
his blinding light has won

white weekend warrior

it's a cold night in january
what a negative number at 13 degrees
a numb pinky toe, a bruised knee
all that matters to me

a hollow knock on a metal door
an invite to come in for more
we head upstairs, up the salty floor boards
to our substance, our whore

and she gives me green for brown
sharp presents present themselves
voices downstairs are too damn suspicious
40ccs and some of that stuff
break it down

only on the weekends, oh
only on the weekends, oh
life is bad enough as it is
i don't want to lower the bar
but it's staring at me and my filthy arm
only on the weekends

god i wish i had a joint now
inhale the sweet smoke down
but all i can feel, all i can do...
open my eyes and apologize

the lonely atheist

I don't believe in Jesus
I don't have a god
I don't pray to no one
It's all a fucking fraud

So I went looking for gold in the ghetto
But I found a white lady instead
She showed me meaning
She showed me faith
And then left me for dead

I turned around on the main drag
She tried to follow me down
She better never find me
And smile that quinine frown

It's okay now

But I still don't believe in Jesus
I still don't have a god
I will pray to no one
Your foundation is a fraud

And for that I must applaud
It's a lonely world with no god

non-prose from the psych ward

I was recently in Western Psych for four days. I had a lot of free time to think. Once I started feeling better, I got a great burst of creativity. Here's eight for you.

"WPIC"

a sterile smell
where beauty lies
and everything she does despise
a three armed gown
one shade of blue
they all know what she's going through

the empty feeling seems to die
she don't know why
she don't know why

gray haired addict
handicapped braids
orange light splaying through the shades
smooth dark skin
a breathing tube
we all slowly get the groove

this is it
no more getting high
to make the empty feeling die

she don't know why
she don't know why

but it's a good thing



"The Mark"

there's a mark
pink and raised
delicate
little girl's lace

there's a mark
i put in place
over bone
i'm coming home

but where is home?
i'd like to know
is it the place
my void did grow?

there's a mark
it's getting dark
i hear the hum

oblivion


"A Good Burn" or "Getting Better"

white noise of the song machine
transmissions in my sad head
there's a light cracking through

some brain dead freak
uncomfortable chairs

that light peeking through is you

my head still aches
it's getting better everyday
sometimes i get scared of progress
what can i blame my failure on today!

sick of technology
running between my ears
it pierces and distorts the truth
electro convulsions are the beer
it's a psycho proof

then the break through starts to come
it's gonna be okay
sometime i'll learn my way

until then sickly smoke will rise
and burn into my mind



"Triazdam"

there's a fire in my heart
there's a fire in my mind
there's a fire in my calves

waiting for the dose
waiting for the dose

there's some crazy pacing 'round
but it doesn't make a sound
and i'm ready to head on down

waiting for the dose
waiting for the dose

my apathy meets the empathy
on the pale translucent skin
my eyes minuscule dots
the color of mossy rocks

the milky white remains
stopped turning this girl on
but that feeling's coming on
damn it's strong

there's a fire in my heart
there's a fire in my mind
there's a fire in my smile

waiting for the dose



More soon.