Words Fail Him

I am the writer whose words fail him,
Socially illiterate in many situations.
I would give you a handful of mine,
But they always slip through my fingers
To dissolve in a volume of wasted time,
and I seem to have been born without a filter.

13 inches – Superior design – full grain leather

I do not, as the rule, use the word “love,”

But in this case, a cow gave its life

(and did not save its hide),

Several strangers in the Philippines gave their time,

and an unlikely row of sewing machines

Gave needles and whirrs and an overworked wheeze,

and now, when we play rough, you sound like perfection.

You're just (in)animate enough for a connection.

Thin Red Line, Pt. 1

There is no thin red line between love and hate.

There would have to be a canyon, not a groove.

Well, actually, there's two,

Because friendship is the undersea vent

Between silence and agreement,

and enmity is the vast, dry expanse

Between unreasonable and indifferent.

A Pack of Pretty Lies

They told me I would never be the same,
and I don't think this is what they meant,
Because most days, I forget how to be different.

They told me that this would get easier,
But it only takes longer to recognize
When I look at something, and see her.

They told me that time heals all wounds,
But I don't think I've gotten any better.
It's just that no one plays our song anymore.

I Am Bender. Please Insert Girder.

Science is slowly sliding to the conclusion

That free will is nothing more than an illusion,

and I suppose that I might agree with them.

Every time I kind of want to do something against my nature,

My brain goes into vapor-lock, and I just kinda sit there.

After about the first twenty minutes,

It starts to get slightly less hilarious.

Accidental High School Reunion

Early up, head down,

Same old almost the same.

The temp thing is hard on the biological clock,

and it's hell on the internal compass,

But your eyes are easy on mine.

I knew you, once upon a time,

But now is not the time.

I can't believe I had forgotten,

and I'm half-surprised that I remembered.

Barbarian at the Gate

I admit that it is true that there were times I was prepared,

Unwavering and full of hope, appropriately scared.

Nevertheless, I am grateful to have been many times delayed.

I would not give up my little seat, my waiting at the gate.

When the time comes for me to board and deplane, when I arrive,

When this old barbarian reaches his gate on the other side,

I wonder if I will be ready.