A Short-Term Solution

You were speaking on how a charity
Sending food to Africa
Only perpetuates the problem
I used to agree with you
I’m not sure anymore

Window in a prison cell
To keep the prisoner
From escaping

Check the word count
I can’t let this end on an even number
I’ve already revised
Spell checked
And deleted

I’ve changed my mistakes
So I have no regrets

And a wonderful view

Mind Numbing Paper Cuts

I could change too
Swallow the bitter pill
And line up nicely against the wall
Fake the smile until it feels real
Shake hands and pretend to listen
Forget who I am

You must keep moving
Or you fall apart

Not sure where I really am
There is a fog here
And when confusion sets in
I grope around for something to hold onto
But I no longer have hands to grip
No longer have my own thoughts to think

If you no longer care
Could you fake it?

Sappy

I’ve collected orbs of back pain and put
Them on the shelf next to the baby crying on the monitor

I’ve sifted through the follicles of carpet
for choking hazard treasure

I’ve watched growth become time and time become change
While constantly waiting for something bad to happen

You put the bottle down and share a conversation
With an inanimate object

You make sure everything is clean

You get tired

You feel

Happy

She said to try and relax

What if I kept perfectly still
Would I cease to exist
Blending in with the furniture,
Carpet, and remotes that make up
My surroundings.

Would I go to a place
Where dreams lay asleep

My world being built in reverse
The walls coming down
Leaving a vacant lot
Where a house once stood

The opposite of neither here
Nor there

An outline surrounding you
When my head begins to ache
A shimmering ghost of your
Movement

The echo of your life
Shining through you
Falling within itself
A mirror facing a mirror


I’m still

Wounds in the Back take longer to heal

I’ve cleaned my plate
While others piled on
Conversation

I’ve gained weight
While others forgot about stop signs
and using a signal to change lanes

Ordinarily
I wouldn’t comment
But a passerby mentions, “beautiful day”
Age lines sagging his face
He recognizes the panic in mine

I turn and sprint home.

The Autopsy

I heard a fly buzz
And it was everything to me
Forever after
Is not a storybook ending

I couldn’t see to see
Nothing ever gets to me

I heard a fly buzz
And it was everything to me
Performed the autopsy
To reveal a tumor in society

I couldn’t see to see
Nothing is all I’ll ever be
I couldn’t see to see
We dream an empty dream

Now to admit we were wrong
No longer holds the comfort it once had
Say what you must but I distrust
All that glitters is dust


“Inspired by the work of Emily Dickinson”

Bad Dreams of our Founding Fables

I’ve been having bad dreams lately. Mostly when it’s just me and my son at night while Jamie is working. It’s the kind of dreams where you can’t tell you ever fell asleep…everything in your room looks exactly the same you don’t even remember closing your eyes. Last night I fell asleep next to my son and I started to feel something cold on the back of my head and I could sense the bedroom door opening but I couldn’t turn around to look. It felt like my consciousness was being sucked out the back of my skull and then the door started to close and the cold went with it and I was able to wake up. I was a little disoriented but was able to get back to sleep again only this time the cold was around me and the sound of the air conditioner was getting louder and louder almost unbearable. I could sense the cold behind me so I was able to turn around this time and I saw a dark shadow outline of an old lady even darker then my lightless room on the wall. I was able to pull out of this one as well but wasn’t able to really get back to sleep until Jamie came home from work. I think it could all be from the anxiety and fear I have of any harm coming to my son...because he’s all I can think about while I’m dreaming…hoping he’s safe.


Sometimes I think all my life to this point is my mind making up a life for me while I’m falling to the floor dead. I think maybe I’m still that teenager with the 4-10 Shotgun in his mouth except this time my finger slipped or the gun went off accidentally and my mind (what’s left of it) is creating this life for me. Like when people die and come back and say they’ve seen heaven or hell. Just there mind easing them into some kind of transition…helping them cope with the loss of themselves…an in-flight movie perhaps. A lifetime in the fraction of a second…what is time…what time is it? It’s what I’m killing right now so I don’t have to have anymore of these crazy dreams.

I can’t stop listening to the new Sally CD Long Live the New Flesh. You can check them out at www.myspace.com/sally It’s one of those rare moments where you feel like someone wrote a record just for you.

“Oh my God you don’t know…the way out of here”