I spend militant amounts of time
gnashing my inner-chimp to
Justify
Entrails sit in languid writing
Stuffed mindly, biding
Exceeding my own alchemy

Plaque upon the joints
Disjointed by
A lack of puppeteer
Spindle binded tightly
Nightly walking
waking with Head
inside the sink

Pore pretty girl
Hyena’s
Solo-raised girl
Woman by seven
Spread throughout the room

My mask falters
I am so aggravated
by tedious folds in my
mutant Birth

No Bible of yellow stars
could befit this tall order
I pander in this
shed-skin Bed

Steal weather from the
forecast
doppler tells me I am a
Typecast

Invisibility
a strange equine
at the petting zoo
Striped

Binary thought-maps
Trot twice
if you’re ready for the
Show

You make an excellently
melancholy Ball Buster
plead with Laughing eyes
through gash and gnashing

So you’re going to think this is absurd.

I ate a burger today.

Yes, I know—that isn’t very eventful at first glance. But I’m telling you, there was something about that burger that set everything else in motion. Or maybe it wasn’t the burger at all. Maybe it was the moment that came after or perhaps even before.

Just Keep Smiling

I. Burnout

I’m going to:
Wake up every morning smirking,
When I see my eyes from overworking.
’Cause my white-collar nine to five,
Has put me into fucking overdrive.

Then I’ll:
Do the dishes and make black coffee,
Pay my taxes and do the laundry.
’Cause I love this culture conformity,
God bless American society.

Driving down the I-94,
Empty bottles rattle on the floor,
In my wife’s white Ford Explorer,
When ahead… to my horror —

“I don’t …”

His voice trembled, fragile as glass on the verge of breaking.

He stood alone in a long white hallway that stretched impossibly far in both directions, so uniform and clean it seemed less like a place and more like an idea. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic. The walls had no seams, no corners, no imperfections–only endless white. A white that seemed meant only for pencil marks—words not yet written. At the very end stood a single blue door. It was the only color in the world. He swallowed, his throat tight, tears slipping down his face.

The sun used to shine brighter then.

Mark still remembered his face. His laugh. The way the young lad had smiled as if he had an angel peeking from behind his face. The way he used to throw his arms and full body out the window and cheer as the two of them drove along those winding roads, the air roaring past like nothing in the world could touch them. Carefree. Untouched. Alive.

Was walking barefoot to the corner store
Cherry popsicles melting
down our arms. Staining
our denim shorts and our mouths
Hot, sticky, and bright red.

Sharing a tube of cherry lip gloss and giggling
at the high school boys who honk at us from
their pickup trucks, hanging
out of the windows like dogs,
drooling and panting.
The burning
July sun. Long hair sticking
to our tanned skin.

It is truly cruel to bury a child named Asterion. “The starry one” who was suddenly ripped away from the lights in the sky. A boy who was born as a punishment, condemned to a prison away from his mother’s arms. It is almost ironic; born flawed due to the sins of another. His mother’s reckoning and his father’s embarrassment. They locked him away, a monster deserving only of cold dark stone. He cries for his mother. Prince of the Labyrinth: destined to die by the hands of a “hero”.

I salivate at the scent
of my great evergreen,
Tall and embraced
by the spring breeze

Their sap sparkles
in the sunlight,
begging for a taste
Sticky amber on my finger

Insects zip by my ear
with a loud bzzt
I put my finger in my mouth,
subtle sugar on my tongue

Beckoned by the call
of my grandmother’s
caffeinated tone
from the backyard

Newly sprouted greenery
It tastes like, smells
like mint, like Earth
Insects zip by my ear with a loud bzzt

First, you have to lower your standards. Not all at once… if you do that, you’ll notice. Start small. Return emails later than you should. Learn to say “I’ll circle back” and never circle back. When someone points out a problem, nod thoughtfully and write it down, then lose the paper. You see a call from your wife, you’ll get back to it later, maybe. It’s not cruel. It’s efficient.