eating my words [iv]
Addiction
entrance through Bixel Street
time does not exist
walls beige frames colorless
scent not sweet stale
conditioned to 74 degrees
bed metal electric cold
fitted with buttons gauges
noise white with warnings
bleeps bings some hisses
faded aqua marine curtain
surrounds me wrists tied
down the hall polite
whispers then a wail
exploding through antiseptic hall
like Fourth of July
ceiling bland dusty vents
TV monitor spills lies
no music exists here
in and out they
come one after the
conversation bobs up and
down indecision open wide
my eyes now it
begins to lift the
fog how did i
in my world
when the demons of solitude and fear set in i then realized that the bread crumbs were all gone where are You
if Dylan knew
Zimmy has an old soul
if you look at his eyes
they are other worldly
the color of Earth’s face
from up in space
it means just what is
but when i heard him this morning
while drinking my mud
these words telegraphed
out from Alexa .1
“Oh my name it ain’t nothin’
My age it means less
The country I come from
Is called the Midwest
I was taught and brought up there
The laws to abide
And that land that I live in
Has God on its side”
the shame i felt
rose to waterlines of my
green lined eyes
and the liquid it spilleth over
perhaps it’s the hormones
or the brow beat quarantine
and my cat she ate the dog’s food
but i couldn’t tell her to quit
shaking it off
turning the vacuum on
the dog he shakes his
fluffy white tail
and my thoughts run asunder
white hot sun beaming
brown wood flooring
a meeting of the titans
debacled by the cat
does God pick sides
Nutella
fruit
lavash
rye bread
ramen
and a good fuck while i’m on top
chewing on ice
these things that i like
why am i this way
could it be in black vain
that i ask these strange questions
a dandelion of thoughts
cast into the humidity
answers might or might not
germinate
does God get to decide
from where do i find
recourse for sinning
early i rise
eating my heart out
doing what’s right
one moment gets wasted
my faith goes in haste
my spirit is stuck wild horses help me am i on God’s side
eating my words [iii]
hindsight
choice of youth
she tasted of memory
Selma ave where i fought a fight
bloody knuckles injured eye
it didn’t have to happen
but to drink my life away i made the choice in May
pain she’s tricky and eludes my reason at times
i’m left unto myself a sobbing child and so swinging back in madness
dignity falls down there is no count to tell
long gone are days of curbside medics looking for a score
safe behind a dignified door of comfort now with flagellating thoughts
if i could do it all again
eating my words [ii]
eating my words [i]
emancipated bird
these days some short some long these nights redemption lost taken somewhere far on the beaks of three little birds
when the mind is placed in a certain situation we recall and cherish when our feet were our carriage like when we shared my only bed
and holding onto to what we had was all that we needed being devoured by the light of your energy
but all i’ll ever have are those three blackbirds you bought when you went away
dear postcard
i am here on Hope street in a liquor store its open because its essential outside is a sickness it’s been here all of my life remember when i was young and fearless and unattached now i’ve fallen in love with life and have everything to lose my priorities have changed so bloody much i ran myself into the ground now i’m dying to break free dear postcard with the ultra blue ocean pearly shore electric green palm trees and skinny bikini girl with exaggerated tits remember when i was young and my freedom was a tether to a wild wild road now reluctantly i am here masked ten miles from my home gloved lying to the cashier about needing sanitizer and candy bars fiji water and a box of cheap cigars for my diabetic neighbor the sickness deep in my blood hypnotically stares at the bottles in the case here at the crossroads again postcard i write on you a note for help living one day at a time has become a slippery hell
words less spoken 