Going Out With Some Poetry

I have the same fucking resolutions so tuck them in, pull the sheet up to that warm space under chin, kiss foreheads and take a mallet and wallop until you need to clean the walls.  

I just want to be a better version of myself in 2018. I want to level up.  I want to shed as much bullshit that does not serve me as possible.  I want to put my money where my mouth is. I want to write another book. I want to sell a fucking book.  I want to hit my Goodreads reading challenge for once. I want to eat all the unused gluten and buy recreational marijuana. I want to be what the picture of this lion is:

In an attempt to remember who I used to be, here are two poems.  

You Are The Morning Quiet

Where there are pots and pans
you are not.
The loud frightens.
Its ugly,
a thorn.

Between the clangs and
your soft slips in.

Your still,
a reckoning of


Brown flashes tendriled

I wait for

High Hopes

There is a shuffle in my heart
it skips warm then chokes
a snake mid eat
on a thing
it thought it

The snake of me
eyes bulging
I’m trying but

this water buffalo, man…

Happy New Year fuckers I mean, everyone.


Clip Fiersam said…
I remember you.
Anonymous said…
I want to read more from you. Always. I go back and re-read stuff in PANK. It`s time travelling and it makes me feel sad and alone. Your writing is mind expanding :)
xTx said…
thank you. thank you.

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