an interesting shift

me alex and david with the miami accent

sitting around on our shift

talking about string theory and black holes and the like

and david

always saying like...

and i say i dont want to anymore.

bend your mind backward and forward like those

worm holes.

id rather talk about things that make sense

when i realize you can turn anything into a philosophical mystery

the great inquisition of being

so we talked a while

all the while

im drifitng in and out of it

pseudophedrine always sucks it out of me

and everyone is so ready to go. eight sharp.

the building is closed.

but i get here and release there is so much less to do

and i dont get paid to stare at the eggshell finished walls

of my empty living room.

poppies.

graves cloaked in antiquity

and the poppies.

for some reason i feel a burning

a swelling

trace over the etchings on the grave of helen

who died in 1843

she was only seventeen.

for some reason

this is personal to me.

feeling the limestone

look to my feet knowing only 6 feet below

are her bones.

and from this spot

my field of vision grows

looking through a fisheye lens

its endless

the dead. a crop of bones and stone.

how sad that no one visits her anymore

Helen.

i hope

sincerely

there is more than this.

an old peice that feels new

What does It feel like?...
I always know when It’s coming.
I am a flounder on the other side
There’s a fisherman tugging
and I’m taking a Nosedive in Reverse.
The Hook is unforgiving, defying Gravity in the upward haul.
Ripping through the roof of my mouth.
I can’t discern what the Iron Taste belongs to-
the Hook- or my Own blood?
Now the nasal cavity stings-
even after that Bastard cuts the elusive string
and the tension recedes-
the Hook remains here.
(And I haven’t had my Tetanus shot
in the last ten years.)
It’s like an intricate way of dying
I always know when It’s coming.
It feels like going to the dentist knowing you have a cavity…
waiting in that rubber scented room where there is the Segregation of Teeth.
The Rotted and the Manicured. It will never be fair.
But the feeling, It’s that first shot of Novocain.
A needle tunneling through that pink membrane-
The Pain.
But you still have ghostly sensations, Slightly.
It’s unnerving.
I always know when It’s coming.
Starts out with symptoms that imitate
the Ascent of a roller coaster.
at the apex of the ride…
you’re pitched downward and It swallows you at 80 miles an hour.
And even though you knew, you KNEW It was coming
It hits you like a badly wallpapered bathroom.
It feels like driving past a wreck.
The inclination to stare steers your attention away from the yellow lines.
There’s screaming but its Just You in the car…
And there It is- the feeling.
(realizing it’s your own voice.)
Somehow you are sitting on the curb
Barefoot and Confused and this Wreck is You.
But what it feels like, the feeling, is finding out
that in the other tangled metal, 4 kids Died.
But you were Fine.
What does it feel like?
Shit, I dunno. It’s life.