What You Left Behind

Something is missing

That numb feeling in my center

this vibrating out that it does

glazing over my eyes

I know somewhere I must have some feelings

anger and sadness

best guess

but I can’t connect


are you as tired of that word as I am

fuck I’m so tired of it

I keep going

because I’ve learned by now that that’s what I do

I guess that’s pretty cool

but if I’d given up

I wouldn’t judge myself

or you

I don’t want to live here

but wherever you are

you are

and what a fucking riddle it all is

isn’t it

sometimes I just get sick of playing

so I give up for a little while

I let it take over

the gray cloud

the white noise

sometimes I don’t let it, it just comes


I put ear plugs in today


because I didn’t want to hear that fucking blower blow one more time

jesus Christ

I don’t feel like I can ever ACT or DECIDE

and when I do

just momentary blips on the radar of life

I want things

and I know things don’t really give you anything

is it all just a head spinning trap

how do we live without answers

how do we fulfill our purpose

the one in the soul that keeps pushing us forward

and yet

that other thing that stops us

every god damn fucking time

your skin will wrinkle if you don’t die

and your eye color will fade and all that will be left

will be what you left behind


The Boot

One intentional STOMP

A spurred boot slamming onto an iced-over lake

Sadness breaks through me

the cracks begin slowly

reaching their jagged, frozen fingers through my skin

they quicken

Frigid waters rising

I hear a whisper somewhere

Don’t fall in

Don’t fall in

Those waters aren’t meant for swimming

30 seconds til hypothermia sets in

But then, a different voice speaks:

There is no danger here

I reassure The Whisperer

I am the lake.

And The Thing breaking through me

Is only

Letting Life in

On Loneliness


Loneliness is sitting in the cell of your own body


Hearing the softened sounds from the neighborhood alternately float in and out

Like some kind of old radio

You can hear the faint laughter or warm conversation

But you don’t feel any of it because you are living in the prison of your own, lonely being

Sometimes, eyes glazed over and numb, you find you’ve wandered into the home of Depression

Then back again into the familiar ache of a heart that feels like some kind of broken stone, cracked in the deepest places

Only you know it can’t be made of what it feels like,

Because stone doesn’t feel

But you do

Sitting there in your fleshy skin and heavy bones

No plans

No one to call

Ah, you could, you know

There are people who care, which makes it all the worse

The shame that bears down slamming you for just not having it in you to

Get the fuck up

Pick up the phone

Do something

Perhaps we are in the House of Depression again, though the two share a door that never closes

What does it matter?

And then, isn’t there always One?

That one you ache for that you hardly let yourself think of

Because the impossibility of that fantasy is crippling

It is another New Year’s Eve

I can taste my loneliness

I feel it wrap it’s Nothing arms around me and squeeze

But the tears don’t spill over because they are trapped in my cracked, stone heart

This Much Sadness

I am at a loss

For This Much Sadness

An odd wah-uh-wah-uh-wah sound penetrates my ears



My eyes sit like saucers in a dirty Beijing sky



Where the fuck am I?

I am at a loss

For This Much Sadness

Who knew It existed

Like This?

I am a shaken, empty vessel



I am a Veteran now


Perhaps forever

In these Post-Apocalyptic eyes


Black Poetry


Black Poetry beats in me like a painful yellow fog

Murky, pungent, sucking life

This is garbage, you think

(Or maybe that’s me)

For Poetry is the thing Dickenson speaks of!

Hope singing, and the like

I bring a different kind of Word

Self-indulgent, maybe

But not if you really knew…


Some of you do

Some of you do

We are the artists, yes the long-suffering Clichés,

Whose works, year-after-year-after-millennium,

Somehow still rings True

Life strikes down her yellow-gold-silver-blue

Splitting us all open, cracked as we already are

Shattering and shattering

You can almost here Zeus laughing in the skies while

Children are dying down here in spades

While so-called Gurus spew

Unrelatable but somehow edible

Spiritual vomit

People sinking knee-deep in it

Eyes wild, wide

Heads nodding, bobbing like Robotrons

Mouths lapping up regurgitated chunks


Starving to ingest the One-Sided

Disguised as Salvation

Hands dripping with acid stench

Shoveling, scooping

Inhaling someone else’s excrement

Proclaiming it delicious

Denial is a Siren

A sweet Goddess of affliction

Who is so annihilating-ly believable

We all think we’ve got gold in our palms

Ever-fooling ourselves

So I take on the role of The Outcast

I must

This painful yellow fog beats out of me

(Go ahead and find it disgusting)

Not because I wish to be different

(Though, fuck you, I’m different)

But because mainly

I must be a Counter

To all the golden puke we cling to

Pretending that it is Soul

Gray Field


I am Uh-lone

Lost in a dry, gray field of it  —


Draping over me like a long, invisible cloak from head to toe

Offering nothing

Causing the kind of pain only Nothing can bring


A great, dark, Impersonal


One can only scream silently for so long,


I am so totally Uh-lone

Sharp in my sobriety

That the masses lack

Preferring to believe that

“It’s all love and light, baby, love and light”


I don’t know your experience and you do not know mine

I only know that we can try

To understand –

And we’re lucky if we can –

Or find someone who really wants to

Who does not run away shrieking from our carnivorous pain

The way I hypocritically do

I never could relate

To those who haven’t been to hell…

To those who aren’t awake





I’m in that place

Where there is no try

Where desolation goes to die

No more questions, no more why

I’m in that place

Where there is no try

Only wishes and desperate pleas

Like winter’s snow falling silently

Melting before they are received

In this place one hopes for sad

Depression, even, not so bad

Joy a distant memory

The reining King is Apathy

He watches over fields of numb

And clouds of pain

Rivers where lives end in vain

His eyes are blank, a little grey

No one home

Nothing to say

His last try was a million lifetimes ago

Disconnection here the status quo

I’m in that place

Where there’s no reaching out

Or an inner voice who might cry out

And yell, “I do not wish to die!”

No, he is not here

There is no try.





Don’t know what to do right now

Just trying to get to tomorrow

My brain is fried

My soul, it hurts

Filled with such deep sorrow

And I really wish that I could write

About funny, happy things sometimes

I know this Heavy stuff gets old

These little torturous rhymes

But what can I say?

It is the world I am in

I don’t know how to set down this load

My shoulders ache

From the constant quake

Of stories I am told

I wish I were a comedienne

So I could lighten your load

Make a smile spread ‘cross your face

But I’ve lost all my funny bones

And here I sit, holding such weight

Trying to “Let it go”

But Knowing truth underneath

Cannot be Unknown

So here I sit another night

Another sadness

Another fight

And I’m just tryin’ to find