Bottomless Cup

Caught on to how everything is temporary, 

From conceited narcissist 

to humble and self-deprecating, 

There’s a place where doing nothing 

blends into overcompensation. 

The luxury of being stuck in the middle is

not being stuck at all, 

Getting out is as easy as saying, “Left or Right,”

“Yes or No,”

Giving Up or Deciding to Fight. 

Leaving the top is a painful comedown, 

and leaving the bottom is a challenge,

Dropping from the top is rarely intentional

and climbing from the bottom takes all this time and effort 

So I choose this deep in between

where I can determine on my own what everything means.  

Existential Anxiety

Catch up to get ahead

Lifestyle choices 

Life mislead 

Whatever else still lies ahead

Cow shit problems 

Roadways flooded

The Second Coming never came 

Cars sank into impassable roads 

Like babies dunked in the Holy Lake

I was baptized but I came back up 


More than a moron 


Less than a saint 

What’s covered with rust

gets covered with gold paint


Like clockwork

I pull up

the light turns red.

Decay is everywhere

We’re flinging our own shit at each other

No one can hear you from down there.

The tires are all flat

And no one has a spare.


“Hey before you get all caught up in the spiral,”

I was stuck in my head all the while

But I heard someone say,

“That girl is viral.

“I’d stay away if that were me.”

Word spreads like disease,

Not enough rest

and too much sleep.


“Work is hard,”

get in line,

Deal with it, everybody’s tired,

No more concern,

everything’s fine,

Toe on the edge of the Great Divide.

The grass on my side isn’t all that green,

Is it green over there,

or is it covered in weeds?

The only way to know is to go over and see.


Reaching out for nothing at all, 
I come back empty-handed, 
but not disappointed, 
I learned not to expect much –
Not even a postcard,
Not even a phone call,
Not even common decency – 
and you damn sure can’t bank on miracles
Can’t bank on people either –
People burn you,
People move,
People die, but before they do they’ll lie to you
The circle of life is cruel 
It morphs into a wheel 
and damn can it roll, 
The more I let this life get to me
the closer I get to being swallowed whole
Like when you drive past a car crash 
and drive real slow, til you hear the phrase
“Nothin’ to see here, come on, let’s go folks,”
We only want to see until we get too close, 
The things you see and can’t un-see –
Track marks on your friend, 
Your ex telling you she was spending New Year’s Eve with someone else for the first time in four years, 
The funeral service for a friend you knew since you were thirteen –
And what I’ve figured out, most importantly,
The higher the expectations, the lower every letdown leaves you feeling.

Massive Atomic Confusion

Massive atomic confusion

I’m building up,

mounting tension,

I can’t break –

Bend the rules,

but play your part –

the missteps I have to take.

Who am I now

Who am I ever

Curled up in a ball,

sweat drowned me in a river.

Made up my mind,

I’m feeling fine,

never gold,

always silver.

Severe repression

of every issue

that keeps me up at night.

Rotting flesh,

the silent killer,

up all night

to work and die,

right here in the middle.

Brass Season

Success is synonymous with financial gain,
In the fold, hidden and tucked,
A spider web where the spider’s stuck.
Climb and climb –
the daily grind.
Some rusted trash – a golden find.
initiate impulsive bind.
Impulses. Cash
initiate impulsive buy.
Flushing gold,
Wasting time.
(Hole in my pocket lost another dime
Going home; out of range
Growing old; spitting teeth down the drain,
Nobody knows,
Nobody’s sane,
But believing they are
all the same.)
Bleeding treason
“Fascist holiday,”
It’s brass season,
Cue the jazz – and daily beatings,
and memories; hazy, fleeting.
Day in, day out. All this constant reseeding.
Out of the loop, missed another big meeting.