Inner turmoil with fries

 Yeah can I get the urgent ego package?
"You mean the midlife?"

Yeah I'll take the midlife crisis.
"Okay would you like self deceit with that?"

Two servings please.
Also I'd like the impulsiveness sauce.
Side of fresh desires.
Slice of amnesia.
And a seasoned false identity soup, are you still selling that.

"Yeah, we keep that well stocked."

I guess it sells well then.
Listen don't get the order wrong.
Last time I threw a lit cuban cigar in one of your rubbish bins.
This time I'll burn down the whole kitchen!

"Okay sir, just drive to the next mirror I mean window."

The return advent

 I fell out of the space suit and hit my head
Because the craft had landed gravity was here
I sat staring at the earth through the rockets narrow window
I would have to get out and rejoin the world

It had been months since I had even spoken
I feared the first word would be agony
But it came out beautifully
"Damn" Looking at grenery outside the glass

The door depressurized and unlocked
I barged out carrying my helmet for no reason than it felt like a part of me
The grass brushed my boot 
I threw a fat flare and red smoke burst upward to the sky

Soon they would find me disoriented euphoric
Full of the bliss of existence
No souvenirs just blocks of waste
earth air suddenly flooding my lungs
"Amen"

Days are fast when people pleasing

 There were three of us.
The urgent one, the patient one and the mix of the two who was me.
On the street the day flew by like a diesel van.
Blue smoke gushing out daylight combustion.

The impatient sequestered our will.
Led us on a goose chase across the grey city.
Smog and laughter.
We got back to the family garage empty handed.

Cousin weasel impulsive violent imitated us.
The impatient burst into well timed tears.
The patient one cuddled her.
I continued people pleasing and getting nothing from the world.

The snack table and the barbecue

 We are eating at the table.
Sugar fat and carbs in different colors and textures.
I'm pushing out the neighbors who rubber neck around the corner of the house.
They long to sit here and feed their faces as we are.
The tables are all wobbly.

We go under the legs with damp paper towels
But no dice on stabilizing.
So it's back to fast chew snacks.
Sauce goes over.
a drink tips over and soda gives up its last bubbles.

A frown opens to burp, mustard drops from the beard.
More damp paper towels.
Very absorbant.
Barbecue smoke smell casts through.
All of these eaters check their knees.

Pull themselves to standing positions and move toward some nearby grill
Looming not far off like a species of slow predator.
Yes the envious neighbor had set up the grill.
He split flanks and sirloins gritted them in salt
Like meat roads to salivating mouths

The protein waiting to be carbonized wrapped in bread 
Oversauced and forced down by suds and fizz

Infarction

 Harry concrete drove us onto the offramp.
But it was no offramp.
It was a company carpark above a proverbial highway.
with narrow driveways and dispatch garages.

Everything was late there.
Outside the car the asphalt was a reoccuring heartattack.
I tried to walk on it and ended up leaning on a wall.
I was running out of air.

I should have stayed inside the car.
But the claustrophobia forced me out.
The grey overhead.
The grey underneath.

The long heartattack.
The urgency and deadlines.
The meaninglessness.
Sucked through coffee lid hole.

The blunt relic treasure

 Fate splash your chcken gut on me
open these gates
These confessions
the uneasy truth that must come

the hidden filler now to be confessed
To be offered up
doors thrown open
what was waiting behind exposed

So fate splash youself over
purify your blend
Send in the truth
The original blade that wounded

Now a blunt relic treasure
splashed with rust
Unexplainable
send in the truth

Old pact

 

You all want a warm center Metaphorical home

Some overwhelming doctrine

Some leviathan reigning over you

You feel protected in a dangerous world

You want the variety in content Just to choose the most popular

A gremlin of stimulus and desperation

The twisting fomo in your heart

Each room an attempt at having not being

The everchanging desires writing the conditions

An awkward hand landing in fresh grass heroically

You want an image food for the eyes and soul

rolling on tracks whose vibration could get you to sleep

What´s written in the everchanging whims

Far off stars that won´t exist by the time you arrive at them

Light pouring off them in phantom beams

willow wisps reflecting those false alluring lights

Through a night of lost souls creaming at the streetlights

Making fun of their own shadows standing in the way

Bragging of their eternal wandering

Flinching at the horror of what they have become

Pining insisted on a solid pact with the heart

It feels wrong to rip up the agreement and put flames to it

Everchanging desire could pump it with gasoline

Get that hostile fire up to a frightening speed