Late September Wishes

Old curbs

Damp grass

Trees releasing summer's excesses

In my veins
Clouds
Still searching me for the sky
While I sleep
I look for them all day

Time
Comes in handfuls
Or curls like dead ferns
And feet on paisley sheets

The orange recharge
Brittle reminds me to look
Hard

I live
Here
Where rain is warm
Surprises are banned
And I'm grateful for wishes I don't make
And I look
Hard

I lick dirty glass mornings
And swallow until rain turns into pills in my hands
And my shoulders are wet from
Yellow moss
And I run through corn fields to find new confessions
For nobody in particular
Death will know my refined pallet for time
And we'll laugh as I turn to dust

Blue Solomon

The body's mouth only opens to speak or eat
Humanity will starve with a pile of apples for a seat
A single bite taken from each
Bite or haunt the world to figure out who took the bite out of you and why
Or try to stand on both sides of the teeth
And open wide

These thoughts hover, fall and shatter
At the pull of the heckling moon
And the push of a pleasant Levantine stranger, who explains Twin Peaks
At the foot of the Mount Sinai in my room
The one that creeks
My face reveals more disconnect than Wikileaks
Her face reveals complicit relief
I don't waste my self-loathing on just anyone
No, not me and my Blue Solomon
We emotionally pilfer shoes to get by
Collecting shards from the nauseous sky

Another weekend of Blue Solomon
Tone-deaf singer of a Hemingway cover band
Drinking and screaming at those who bask
Under the small green sun that only sets
Into the stained glass everyone forgets
Who only ask how already dead can we get
WILL SOMEBODY ELSE HAVE MY THOUGHTS FOR A SECOND?
Blue Solomon touch your cheek and avert your gaze
Walk me home in our cracked hearted haze
Holding a shadow across my chest
Protecting all that I long to express

The devil is an unpaid intern with rich parents
Who spearheaded God's social media awareness campaign
Is life a competition to be the most cynical
To 've had the most expected day
To 've sucked the most experience gray
#We'reAllMarketplacesOfGuiltPurchasingSinWithFireBlueCnidarianWordsInAPlazaOfSorrowObscured
Where the continental slope becomes the shore
Land a high profile buyer of legitimate angst
"To the benevolent gods of social media, we give thanks"
Partner up and open a shop that sells
Upcycled failed projects of cells

The bounce away perpetuates the waves
That never cleanse, or at least haven't before
They only return you to bounce once more
Parallel scars and two puncture wounds make a boring song
From barren rocks of self-righteousness gone wrong
With our culture of war over whose got the correct vanity
It's hard to depart in the sessile glare of sanity
Blue Solomon, speculator of kinetic fiction
Be the only toxic smirk remaining
Eyes like overcooked clams
In search of the Supernobody
Whose ocean
Is draining