that never ending gift given to you
by a father that never loved you

a mother that cries herself to sleep
each night recounting all her mistakes

and there you are

twiddling your thumbs as the world burns

so lost so depressed so over anyone giving
two shits about anything anymore

you notice the burn holes in the carpet

that first time the needle breaks the

chasing demons since a child meant for
better things

no one caught the signs of trouble or
better yet, no one cared

the beauty of the wrong side of the tracks
is survival is the only fucking goal even
worth living for

you would think growing up in the suburbs
would give you a wider plate to choose

but if you don’t fall for their bullshit

survival is the only goal there as well

love is never allowed to exist

i remember an old acoustic guitar and
a high school crush that wasn’t impressed
with any of the songs about her

that first night drinking myself to death
under the bridge only to wake up and
walk a few miles home

they never tell you the weird kids never
end up happy

i guess we’re supposed to kill ourselves
long before middle age creeps in

or just snap out of it and learn to fucking

suit and tie, good paying job, picket fence,
wife, kids, all the trappings of this society

i had a woman ask me why i decided
to be a poet

i told her i was attracted to the thought
i would never have any money until
i was dead

you would have thought i said my dream
was to have an extra testicle or marry
a fucking alien

yet here i am

knocking my head against all the same
damn walls from thirty fucking years ago

some would say i’m a glutton for

others would understand the need for
pain in a life where love is never
allowed to exist

in a public square

i’m too old to
believe in a
better tomorrow

the war was lost

the dreams were
trampled in a
public square

the sun now only
rises in a casual

love is a fleeting
moment over
expensive coffee
while endlessly
plotting evil shit
on a cellphone

a little something
to get you up

and then a little
something to bring
you back down


a young child just
discovered coltrane
and the first thing he
saw on google was
something about

the cycle never ends
when madness is all
we know