Archive for April, 2015

No harm, no foul

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on April 30, 2015 by unsensible

It doesn’t hurt that you don’t love me
I’m not pale and tender anymore

It doesn’t hurt that you tricked me
I’ve been fooled by worse than you and lived to play the fool again

It doesn’t hurt that you didn’t mean it, never meant it, will never mean it
Don’t even know the address of the building of the basement

Where you kept anything true about you behind locked door
in a dissipated old box with other quaint antiquities

It hurts that it doesn’t hurt you

I’m shadow boxing feints and jabs at a specter of a creature
That I called love between the shadows of  my weakness and my misbegotten notions

“He beats his fists against the posts,
and still insists he sees the ghosts”


Social (IMHO)

Posted in art, artist, creative, creative writing, original poem, original poems, original poetry, poem, poems, poet, poetry, writer, writing with tags , on April 27, 2015 by unsensible

Tell me all about the life I haven’t led yet
Easter eggs and spoilers to movies never made
150 by 150 raises more questions than safe bets
Rendered in 600 by 600 resolutions to get laid

A million permutations to your so deep conversations
9000 bad intentions have more attention than your songs
100 million electric monks in worldwide frustrations
Where moral fags and flaming trolls still wonder what went wrong

OMGLMAO cuz WTF went wrong

Shine another day

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on April 13, 2015 by unsensible

If she looks at you like a dripping ice cream Sunday
Her mouth is all swoops and corners
She’s a polyglot in farce, acrimony, calamity, and calumny
If everyone she has ever known has betrayed her
And you are the new only to make the penultimate difference

If she asks for a drink with a hoodwink smile
A wry pleasure eyebrow
Veiled in the escaping spirit of her cigarette
She hasn’t any means and she asks about your ends
Like a Cheshire pays call on the welfare of a mouse

If she can’t stop talking
But every path leads to another
And every other leads to a story
And every beginning leads to her ends
Her woeful, sex-crazed, wisecrack, hardship

Then go get the drink
And walk out of the bar
Because all that glitters will surely shine
And shine on, man
There’s another one of you born every day

She’s like no one you’ve ever met
And there’s a reason for that

Pitch Dark (Forget it)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 9, 2015 by unsensible

Don’t start after bedtime
Late nights are the worst
Sleep’s forming a patina in the vignette of your eyes

After 1:30 a.m. and everything is a tragedy
Dropping the milk is a tragedy
Anyone too awake, anyone waking up, anyone too asleep, anyone going to sleep
Is a tragic, angry farce

It’s a “I’ve got to say this now because my head will be too clear in the morning” evening
My head’s too foggy to say it now
That kind of evening

Heads of cigarette corpses line up like fallen soldiers in immolated heaps on the edge of your apocalyptic glass
You can hear someone screaming in the hallway
It’s you, maybe
Your mouth tastes like carpet

It’s too late to start anything
And everything you wanted to do in the condescending daylight
Is already undone
Digits flipping from obligation to regret
With the indifference of an old clock back when digital was for assholes

It’s already 2;30 and you missed your chance to dream
You won’t remember anyway
There’s nothing worth remembering
90% are stress dreams
Because dreams don’t matter

Say it, I dare you
Open your mouth
Start with “I…”
Then wave your head sheepishly in an ignominious bob
Because your smile looks like shit at 3 a.m.
Even a dog knows not to start a fight it can’t handle, most of the time
“Never mind.”

Light a cigarette.
Go to sleep
Looking for stars in the cobweb corners of your eggshell eyes

Spring party foul

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 8, 2015 by unsensible

Malingering spring arrived late,
diffidently fingering her flaxen hair,
surreptitiously smoothing last season’s amber dress,
the one she passed out in
before before her dreamless, overlong sleep


Just don’t (morning)

Posted in Uncategorized on April 2, 2015 by unsensible

Don’t move in the mornings
Mornings are the worst times
And your scalding coffee scrubs the soot of dreams from your hand
It’s a “wake up at 3:40 and think it’s 6 a.m.” kind of morning
Wake to someone moaning, running in your hall and disappearing when you cry aloud” kind of morning
The birds aren’t up
Even the birds are smarter than you
And the birds are assholes

You missed the 8 a.m. already, 
just doing nothing, talking news,
making a more representative indent
in the shape of your ass on the broken armchair’s pleather lining

Gravity is 27 percent more mysterious in the morning
And 32 percent more profound
Don’t try to get up, you weigh ten thousand pounds now
And you’ve already missed your 10 a.m.

You’re late and it’s still early

Sit down
Make a perfect ash cylinder cigarette in the calcified stolen hotel glass
And break it with a wish
Good morning. Go to sleep.