Old Friends

Blonde for them with sunlight
Brunette beneath awaiting closure
Exchange internecine smiles
Shrink from lese-mageste exposure

My mind, lost in hair, fraught with rare
Thoughts of our past where you cried
Touching my lips with fingertips
For comfort before your soul died.

I awaited your return. Did you know?
I carried great concern. Then I forgot
Those tears and lips and hair with blonde.
I became you, or your memory brought
from my past.

Aug. 18, 2000

Work Day

battered reality from air conditioned confines
increasingly humid, time passes, defines
space divided with plastic conformed
after within mirrors the ground when stormed
trampled silently, bored and restlessly fit
skull spinning from screen to chair where sits
the friendly of me, the weak and demure
waiting for that of hard work to assure
June 5, 2000

True Love

Sweaty sheets entangle her
Pantiless figure without protecting
From the immodest pierce of
Eyes angled from the bathroom
Mirror

Matted hair entangles her thoughts
Within a bronzed-better version
Of self without shameful squirm,
From his touch, away and detached,
Numb

Bedside table Bible entangles moral
Character denying room 215
With a dim light bulb and
Cigarette burns on the quilt
Where, on top of her, he grunts
March 14, 2000

Playwright

Pulling away from the foreground
Temping with beer and freetime
Release the bond, watch the trap lapse
Flinch, to fear a recurrence
Or deterrence
Deflect my devotion, emotionless,
Shun indecisive commotion
Where I, aimless,
Wrestle, settle and lunge
Only to begin again
Backward to the bluescreen I
Accepted with sinister faith
I watch my blocked movements
Scripted, painless
Ponder what that clue meant-
When you fell in love
The stage kiss caused a stir of truth
March 14, 2000

Hospital

Decapitation seems a fitting thing for a day like today
Children without a mother and a guy without a finger
And that bitch tells me he needs to grow up-
No, you need some compassion, lady, a heart transplant
At least you took his blood pressure to tell us everything we already know
Sorry, Karen Davis is no longer here, she left hours ago
Like he did last night
And just like his dad in a lawsuit over this same shit
I'm bored or angry or enlightened
I should hurt myself to gain full access
Preying on the injured and unhappy- at least now you have a pamphlet
And I'm directly cut off from the world in this bomb shelter of suffering
I'm still hungry
March 5, 2000

Mind Time

Ticking quieted,
Harsh time has stopped.
Inspiration lessened
As the balloon, fear, popped.

Sensation maximized
Unless hands are forgotten.
Moving circular
Against those who fought an

Enemy of the mental
Projection of me.
Without who I hope
To sufferers set free.

The possibility possible,
With loss lost.
I may want Time back
Despite the pain cost.
Feb. 29, 2000

Coated

Syrup through which your throat can no longer painfully hack
Cat fur tickle still there penetrating consciousness
Marked, what is still there under drug induced comfort
Like any medicinal utopia that numbs:
Sinuses -- or in my case -- mind
And I never really forget you, the tickle in the back of my throat
Like a cocaine drip, or too much Ritalin
Crushed up in a spoon or with a credit card
Mixed with sugar and water unless a low-carb diet requires
That it go up a nostril. But back to ny-quil
Just as good, but safer. Leaves all those chemicals
Up there, where they were -- same thing really:
Still feel bad and just don't know it
Courageous efforts to fix me undaunted because
I really like this legal high that I disbelieved
For so long. Liberating dependence upon a will
That is not mine and a cough that won't go away.
Dec. 28, 1999