captured

delve deep into the heart of the hounded
prince of hellfire and parched lips;
seek out a bare, welcoming orifice and
fulfill your destiny unhindered, for
he sleeps not with souls unclaimed.
lay out a bear-skin rug and set up your
incense, candles, chair, toothbrush,
a pallet on the floor,
and he slowly closes his lips to form a seal.
trapped inside, you suffocate slowly into bliss
feeling only the warmth and security,
oblivious to the obvious,
slaughtered by desire.

a modern superhero

solving great mysteries of the mind
and obfuscating the difficulty simultaneously
must leave one weary, and i should know:
he's visibly shaken and pallid,
but his eyes twinkle with the depth
of a cavernous spiral into the earth.
he learns how to laugh to ward off
the inevitable dimentia that accompanies
great wisdom and great failure.
he learns how to cry to give the
appearance of concern, and how to
appear detached while dying a little inside.

his mind calloused, he travels on feet
soft like an infant's with little regard
for destination or direction: he knows
they can't be found.

he knows there is no end to his travels,
and no beginning to his promised discovery.
he shouts at the moon when no one watches.
he touts substances no one has heard
about yet, and he'll guarantee their potency.

the complexities of human interaction are
to him only a small part of a child's game,
but it's a game he still enjoys
when he allows himself the indulgence.

consumption of tired literature is his stale
breakfast, interaction and deception his lunch,
and at night he feasts on bright lights
and unruly crowds, blending in while absorbing
like a sponge, and remaining unnoticed.

wrapped up in this blanket, suffocating
and all one can feel is fear
passing screams signalling hatred
passing cars driven by smokers
driven out of their minds by addiction
to addiction, scorned by one
full of fury and no longer
in love with love

foreshadowing a return to simpler times
among simple-minded people
we cry out, indignant
about the moral injustice and decay
without the capacity for critical thought
driven by drivel, pushed toward a goal
by those who would profit from it

tucson

Tucson looms over me like a wet dog
and feeling trapped inside its fur i fight it
shackled arms and legs inside this
soaked body and you nkow there isn't
anything worse than perpetually wet socks
on a friday, right? bus floor slick with
mud prints gritty with sand and a
hand goes up to wipe away the
window consensation -slam- the brakes hit
like dripping goo and a minivan makes its
way into the lane stopping someone else's flow
of traffic nearly hit by four cars and tomorrow
it'll be nearly avoided by three

everyone is trying to get somewhere
else in this town when it's all
really happening elsewhere

fog sets in unusually as
cowboy Impreza drivers get
accustomed to the cold grey glow