The park was her redemption

 She was out walking her dog
age was a cousin
the weather was her sister
That why she was out
The leash on her dog was shame
The park was redeemption
An attempt at life

She took each step like walking on brimstone
The dog turned and looked up at her
Considering her mood
But her eyes were on the other side of the road

Lost in the desperation of imposssible dreams
The pavement was a long tongue
Tasting her and her dog
Telling them to walk slower
Drying in the sun an awkward eel
Then finally going mute
She drops the leash and trash and walks home

 

If you knew me

 If I shake out these sheets
Wash them for drying in tomorrow's sun
Will you forgive me
Will you love me but not need me

If I sweep the floor 
and get every speck
Will you notice
And then let emptiness come on

The one I've known without you
The one who spoke to me when the world was unknown to me
I didn't prefer that world at all
I'd prefer to be loved

Out of anyone's repertoire
Unseen in their eyes
So living is subtle sleep
only waking for the bothersome, the curious

If I paint these walls
Polish these windows
Will you see me clearly
What I really am

Or will I linger the way you imagined
Not really the man I truly exist as
Just a collage of what you picked out
And stuck on me inside your mind

Teeth and fairgrounds

 The teeth fit somewhere in my mouth
where do they fit?
My mouth doesn't have space
I feel each person's attempt

To build their stall
To sell their goods
fitting the roof
Putting slats in for the walls

But these teeth don't fit
So how am i supposed to eat?
Life is fairgrounds and novelty 
People walk through hardened sand

Looking behind them 
To see if their footprints stuck
I can't get these teeth to stick
What am I about to lose?

The fire room

 Stoke the fire room
My mind needs heat
my heart does too
The room under the hill
In this forest at the ends of the earth

It is table upon table of wood atop each burning
Inside the shadowed room
The entrance a mouth speaking
little sparks and bursts of heat

lips and tongues are flames
There are no eyes to discern
For the burning is the blindness itself
The internalness the living close to ones own hot heart

Pumping the fire through earth of body
The scream of existence 
That only really stops
when you drop dead

The meaning of retirement

 The retirees lived in a world of their own
With the spirits of those who had passed on
Books previous residents left
House plants that had outgrown their pots
But were still beautiful and lively
Somehow their little haven intact

Their collections and hobbies had become their lives
Their pet names and inside jokes gluing their days together
Long hours spent playing their instruments
Or picking fruit from the orchard
Death comes imposingly like imperial soldiers
To carry you off despite the grand sacrifices 

Happily Evicted

 The two men walked out of their building.
They smiled at the sun and jumped down from the sidewalk to the gutter.
It was half a meter to keep the pedestrians feet dry in the summer rains.
The two men who were just brats in reality danced across the tarmac.

The sun fried the darkest edges of the road.
The aroma of breakfast foods permeated the streets.
Both just pretended the world was great.
But infact they had been evicted.

Both smelled like mold, old sweat and sour garbage.
But they wore smiles, they forced them across their faces.
Survival demanded fake nonthreatening joy.
Beside frowning wouldn't save them anyway.

The importance of stds and overdose

 The night's games have begun.
Drapes were drawn guests were stunned
The tight room filled with impulsive men and beautiful women.
The swagger of the trembling thirsty braggarts flew in.

Chaos, the fear of missing out, fleeting attractions
Mixed with inebriation from powder cut in fractions
Over sweetened words, exaggerated reactions.
A panel of gossipers to shame and to track sins.

Bouts of laughter that seemed would kill the laugher.
Games of every type but mostly illusions.
From harmless to ones that leave contusions.
But all were just excuses purely ruses.

Streetlights guiding the wanters in to feel less dead.
they were pythons wearing lamps on their heads.
Addictions were organized and satisfied to ease spicy glowers
So that quips and jokes could improve for about half an hour.

Eyes scanned the room looking for sympathy, yet scorn we are.
Each being self absorbed on the edge of their fragile euphorias.
None had an inkling of real love for the next. each a bubble.
Games went on with winners pretending they were humble.

Losers pretending they hadn't lost, exit, mumble, now waiting with a gun.
Vices and the intense visceral drive to fulfill took them over one by one.