Drift Away

Slowly digging into your consciousness and conscience 
An insignificant seed
Flourishing in infertile minds

An Island, An overused cliche, a concrete metaphor
Overheard second hand gossip of a dying generation in drunken corporate coffee shops
Burnt tongues and dead senses

Cut off from everyone, everything
Still caught in the web

Unfaithful to yourself
Unfaithful to myself
Lose your faith
Lose your mind
Lose yourself
Dead eyes and dead minds left limping in the three legged races of uncertainty

Feel the condensation on the glass and how it cools your skin.
How it  warms your body.
That slight push... Drift away.

Lies

I wish you wouldn't lie to me
Not because your non-truths themselves upset me
But how you poorly construct them
So transparent and poorly built
Are you even trying to deceive me or are you mocking me?

January Storms

The subtle sound of every tree withstanding that all encompassing push by our Mother Nature
Creaking and bending but never giving into her full will
Is this a test of strength or of allegiance?
The ground sucks up as much liquid as possible and is covered with the rest like a drunk showing off his limits and failing, too distracted to be embarrassed
The precipitation falls in many forms but like me, the Earth would never turn down a free drink

Water Coming Over the Hill

The day after the first substantial snowfall of the year. The ground grey and showing the lost beauty that is perverted so easily like a virgin raised in the church slurring her words in the bar on her 21st. The Woman, blonde, pulls up to the pharmacy in her white nondescript SUV. Her "The North Face" jacket is tight and accentuating her ageless body just how she likes it to. The tequila from last night is leaving her stomach unsettled and her general demeanor "a bit agitated". The conditions of the roads and the effect of them on her larger than necessary vehicle are the last thing on her Xanax hazed mind. Picking up her children (a boy and a girl, the perfect ages apart) and delivering them to their respective post-school events, the condition of her marriage that is sinking slowly from a place of distance to that of rage and misunderstanding, the AA meetings that her husband keeps suggesting and she keeps dodging. All these things weigh on her narrow minded psyche, making refilling her anti-anxiety medication just another slight annoyance. The speaker crackles out the effeminate voice of the drive thru pharmacist, relating instructions that the Woman in her SUV is already very familiar with. She goes through the necessary motions to accomplish her anticipated result, just as she does with every task. The intended outcome is reached, just as it always is. "Have a wonderful day!" crackles enthusiastically out of the machine in a way that you know you can't trust it being genuine. "Thanks, you too." She replies to the machine, face expressionless.

A deep calm, then crushing impact as long fingers and even longer nails dig into skin and draw responses of simultaneous pain and pleasure.
Wave upon wave, euphoria crashes upon the rocks.
The ebb and flow destroys and rebuilds my coastline of indifference.
The edge of the waters freeze over in the month of my birth but not substantial enough to support the weight of this stone I have for a heart.
Golden coastlines meant for holding bronze hands and kissing cracked red lips are all I long for in these grey times.

Auto Eroticism

Smoke gathers and hangs in substance fueled car rides like the mist surrounding Niagara falls while sad songs of yesterday fall upon non-present deaf ears.
Another bullet dodged, another chambered for tomorrow.
I used to say that nothing matters but the here and now.

I know this to be false. Nothing matters.

Dying like paint drying.  Waiting impatiently for the end and when it comes sooner than expected, you're stuck on the wall of an indifferent ever changing room.
Sideways glances from self obsessed Men caught up in the lust of auto-eroticism.
White knuckles grasping the gear shift like a Lover's hand while staring down the possibility of death.
Smoke gathers and escapes like so many Lovers of times not forgotten. 
Smoke gathers and clings tightly to my jacket also not unlike a former Lover.
Smoke gathers and dissipates while the red hot dynamo headache shatters upon the blacktop. 
A world created and destroyed just as quickly. 

Lost beneath the night sky once again
My eyes pointed towards the Earth
Down for the count I've got nothing
Once again
I'm rooting for myself
Against all odds and nobody cheers for me
All there is is myself
   All there is
Is myself
Fingertips brushing skin that has died off months ago but the memory is still there
As is the muscle memory, the visions, the familiar scents
I will die an incomplete man but all else will feel the sting of me leaving the depths of absolute
The self is all I am anymore