Poem 1

Numb brush
Once again I spiral off
Torpedoed in some unknown.

Faith holy prayer book
Of conjunct uncut
Memories, the
Detritus and copper rust
Emblematic problems and
Complete salient peace:

It all comes ending in
Oblivion, oblivion
Being your lack of
Belief, hotwire rewire
Cars from other people
And comb the green sea
waters, floors of piece, of
Creeping faith any realities
Can ever overlap at all.

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Poem 2, 1:13 AM

I love you, kiddo at
12:54 AM
There's no more recourse for
a culture that is no 1's fault, a
roundabout with no exits or
Freezer burn. Silences broach
Absences in the floors,
Gaps in the memory, branches
of narrative, reality as declared
by a few figureheads only
deemed as essential personnel
by themselves, protagonist as
social security paid by check. I
am no better.

What do you do? Nothing
TO do. Adult with no
passport. Body a gym
floor.

People's bodies know when
they're discarded.

"u" - Kendrick Lamar

Gay son, call it "No Children,"
call it glass skin mirrors off
your complexes.

"My Way" - Frank Sinatra

I spent suicidal 20's worried
over my vent journals, trying
to think of what to do if I died,
how to save my family's feelings,
and I am 30, and I have
stopped trying.

There is no circumvention
around invention, no truth
any more spoken out loud
and no way around the
fact that the mind speaks
softer than loneliness.
You could frame a
reality so that it looks a
certain way and it would
Not be louder than my
completely broken heart.