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Middle Age
I never thought I’d be middle aged.
Always thought I’d burn up in a fireball
of a speeding car, a plane crash,
burn myself out on drugs
in a hotel bathtub,
scramble my brains with alcohol,
vomit out my internal organs,
get shot in a bar fight gone wrong,
killed by a crazy porn star ex girlfriend,
have a brain aneurism during sex,
contract a deadly STD,
drown drunk in a swimming pool,
you know,
like one of those forever twenty seven people,
but here I am pushing fifty,
still having sex like a porn star,
getting high like a rockstar,
letting my art do the talking,
but I have kids, something that resembles a family,
I go to church, pay my bills, have a good day job.
And I’m still trying to figure out
this chaotic tornado of a mess we call life,
still making mistakes and churning off victories,
running and lifting weights and fighting and fucking,
but wondering
where do I go now?
That I most likely have more years behind me
then ahead of me,
and this Grim Reaper I’ve danced with, fought with,
defeated up until now,
keeps coming, keeps knocking.
But I still want to grow, learn, evolve.
So where do I go now?
What do I do now?
The only thing I know how.
Burn the candle at both ends,
a flaming jet stream behind me,
and middle fingers up
like blazing headlights.
Lingering
I know feelings come and go
so why won’t this just go
and stay gone?
Much worse than a fly I can’t swat,
this is more like a nuclear bomber
obliterating my heart, my soul
as thoughts of you
try to push through every crack
in the door, in every window
like a burglar in the night
trying to steal my sanity.
So why can’t I just erase them,
clean them with some good bleach
and a little elbow grease?
Is it because they are a part of me?
Am I trying to amputate a limb
or maybe decapitate myself?
At this point I don’t care.
I just want it to end.
Web of Lightning
There have been times
when I’ve seen a web of lightning
fill the sky with electric blue energy.
A scorching shot of static.
Ecstatic and vibrant white fire.
And I hope the rain that comes,
rushes down and washes away
this smothering heat,
smoldering and humid,
heavy like bath water.
And I hope it drenches this anger,
this lust for chaos, this death wish,
anger at God, anger at life,
anger at you,
this fiery blazing anger
boiling over like lava
into angry fighting angry fucking
angry fists angry cock
and the fire breeds more fire
and hope that the rain comes down
and drenches everything
as the webs of lightning stab the sky,
fill the night with electricity,
with excitement and chaos,
and longing for the rain that will follow.
Karaoke Girl
You made an impression on me
like an image burnt into a computer screen,
tan skin and tattoos,
black dress, long black hair,
a dancing diva
singing a disco song
about lost loves and lived lives,
moving like waves in a summer ocean,
crashing against the rocks
of my eyes and my mind,
and the song is stuck in my head,
the broken record of your voice,
and the image of you is burnt
into the screen of my mind
playing on repeat
like that song you can’t get out of your head
but could never hate.
Fireworks
Last week
we saw the fireworks
from the top of Federal Hill.
Surrounded by crowds
on the hot summer night.
And there were pinks and blues
and golds,
explosions over the harbor,
and we found our way home
through the concrete city,
past homeless sleeping on park benches,
kids screaming at bus stops
and we waited on the steps,
close and tired and sweaty.
Tonight
we made our bodies fireworks
passion and motion and energy.
In the quiet of a bedroom
in the air conditioned night.
The pink of your skin, blue of your eyes,
gold of your hair.
Explosions of ecstasy,
and we found our way to heaven
through a shared climax,
as the music fluttered through the air
and we talked into the night
and we rested in bed,
close and tired and sweaty.
Skulls and Crosses
I wear skulls and crosses,
death and resurrection,
dark and light,
love and anger,
fuck and fight,
a walking dichotomy,
contradiction, juxtaposition,
black and white.
I’m a punk rock hippie,
a death metal Christian,
a lover with iron fists,
a quiet freak,
a loud introvert,
a cool as a cucumber geek.
I’m a lover and a fighter,
a warrior for what’s right
who can’t get enough of what’s wrong,
but I can tell day from night,
so let’s pull both wings off this bird,
left and right,
liberal and conservative,
and let it burn down
so the Phoenix takes flight.
Burn down big government
and big business,
corporations, dictatorships,
fascist pigs, megalomaniacs,
and give the power back to the people,
burn down socialism, capitalism,
and just leave us all the fuck alone
unless we want to hug or kiss,
have sex or conversations,
because we’re all dying and living,
decaying and growing.
I wear skulls and crosses,
death and resurrection,
dark and light,
black and white,
and I’m not afraid to say it,
shout it out
darkly bright.
Fuck Me Like a Porn Star
Kiss me, suck me,
deep throat and wet lips
passion, fire,
tongue and dripping spit.
Twist and turn,
thrash and scream,
tits and ass,
a fever dream.
Doggie style, missionary,
cowgirl front and back,
slapping skin, lube and handjobs,
let me fuck you in the ass.
Creak and moan and hammer,
pull your legs up past your head,
split and show that pussy,
let me pump you hard and shake the bed.
And when we’re done,
cream and quake and sweat,
and I’ll roll over and whisper
you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Fuck me like a porn star,
we can go all night and morning too,
I want someone to show me heaven and hell,
that someone could be you.
Letters to No One
I spend a lot of time
writing letters to no one.
I write them
and delete them
and let them fade into the aether.
They say things like
I left a piece of me with you
and I think it maybe have been the best part.
But it still wasn’t enough.
My best failed.
And I’ll never understand
what happened,
I’ll never understand
what you were to me.
But I know what you could have been.
My everything, my life, my love,
the best thing that ever happened to me,
the one.
And I’ll never know what I was
to you.
A friend, a brother, nothing,
just another asshole
who fell in love with you.
But whatever I was,
it’s gone now,
leaving a fading memory
I guess.
And I need to give her
this chance.
I need to let her overtake you
in the chambers of my mind.
And it might take years,
decades, an eternity.
And maybe it won’t be her.
Maybe it will be someone else.
Maybe it will be no one.
I left a piece of me with you
and I think it may have been the best part
and now no one else will ever have it
and I don’t think you’ll ever give it back.
The Starting Line
I thought I was dead
when you opened my eyes.
I thought I was a ghost
when you reached out for me.
I thought I was dried up
when you showed me an oasis.
I thought I’d forgotten
when you reminded me.
I thought I was buried
when you showed me how to fly.
I thought I had decayed
when you softened me.
I thought I was at the end
when you showed me the starting line.
Somewhere, Sometime
Somewhere, sometime,
we were together
and together
meant friendship and love
and love
meant passion and perseverance
and the perseverance
would mean
happiness.
But
here and now
together
fell apart
and together
was one night in New York
and my dreams were mine alone
and there was nothing more.
And I
am on a couch
watching a movie
about an old man dying
alone.