A Rest Home

The anger that defined my first twenty years

Still snores, snorts and stirs as it sleeps within me.

My breast is a rest home for the roiling red wrath,

But it's no longer strong enough to pick my path.

I May Not Be Qualified

I am no expert on dreams or desires.

I may not be qualified to pronounce “deserving,”

But I do know that when you were younger

You pictured yourself with a prince.

Why are you settling for a fat guy who's with you

Because you remind him of someone else?

Why I Write, Part x+203: Either You/Or You

The world tells you to cool it.

The world tells you to can it,

and either you don't,

Drive yourself stir-crazy,

Always churning things up,

Always breaking things down,

Always thrashing around

Until you cut yourself

On your own sharp tongue

and bleed all five quarts

Out the end of your pen,

Or you learn your place,

Know your role,

and slow your roll.

Maybe I'll try that one,

Someday,

When I'm bored and bleeding.

But I Look Elsewhere

My living keeps my eye on English,

But I look elsewhere in my spare time.

It's not as though I keep a list,

But certain people help me rest my eyes.

It's not like I have any expectations.

It's always a surprise when I return the favor,

But I'll be even more surprised If I ever

Catch fruit from the trees of my unlabor.

See, the girls never look back at me

Until the world and I are on the outs.

It's always nice when she notices me,

But why did she notice me now?

For a Second

Sometimes, driving familiar roads,

For a second I close my eyes.

It's not because of some death wish.

It's not so I'll feel more alive.

It's because I've read about Schrodinger’s Cat,

and I'm seeking a day in his (life?).

Heartflesh

I've never understood the relationship

Between my heartflesh and the rest of it.

I lack the heart to accept or change

The way the rest of my flesh behaves.

I rarely think with my heart, anyway.

It doesn't have the neurons

To get the job done.

Maybe when I'm talking blue and thinking blue

and seeing blue, too,

I'll know how to feel about what I do.

Overhear

Usually I try not to overhear conversations.

Sometimes I don't not overhear conversations.

Sometimes I don't not overhear conversations

That are about other conversations.

Sometimes I'm pushed into the deep end

Of a pool of textual, telephonic hearsay,

Non of which is relevant to my interests

Or admissible in court.