I can already see it

I know its great

hold it up!

stop trying to be so profound! 


I made all of you! 





We are the vital organs of a bridal bridge,

sown upon a parabolic path.


We have scoured both sides,

and searched for the shore,

with hopes to be torn asunder.

Yet as we have learned,

of what cannot be earned,

the fog thickens up as we wander.


We are the political jargans of a bridal biitch…

fone a thon an alcoholic wrath.


Our tongues run us reckless

and seek for ourselves

oh, the thought of our wealth and our pleasures!

Soon we tire of fencing,

and fall back into place,

our rickety arms lock together.


We are the tribal organs of a baptized bridge

shone upon an apostolic path.


I am a patient of Patience

hooked on easy mac and magic.

Rehab is a drag…

and I don’t mean the good ol’ toke of tobacco on the porch.

Its that old movie that goes on for ages.

Its scrubbin’ floors with toothbrushes.

The nitty-gritty.


Surrender is my weakest adversary

and my closest companion.

He pisses me off the most,

and that is commendable.


Listen to the WEEPING SHOUTS!

They will not subside

until the earth unties her tongue

and speaks sweetness to the stars.

They will shine no brighter 

but closer they will be.

By sobbing stream they travel,

caught by blues and greens 

and violets. 

Yes, violets! 


into several shades.

Your tapestry hangs screaming

to be revealed and made.