The Itch

Losers racing home twilight highway
Hemis switching lanes dully occupied
Profits of all the knowing genocide
Blue collar heroes
The ones for which John Lennon died

A pizza parlor, 1970’s
And yellow green. Benches of
Ghosts apologies

A balding shipping clerk talks to the bar
Rocking in his head to Highway Star
For the 100 thousandth time he sings

“No one’s gonna steal my car”
He thinks

I want to kiss his highschool football ring
It’s a Monday thing

I just look at it all and sharpen my blade
It’s. So almost
Whispers in my drink



Conclusion protocol

Lightning flavored rain hardens my directionless porous bone marrow

and with no paper {tiny worms} no pen and nothing with which to record

I ejaculate. premature

Exactly like I draw {tiny worms}


How I pass. Judgements.

I’ve learned from The moon who is patient with the clouds

That people are not mysteries

Just little hairs {tiny worms}

On my retinas no pondering

Shapes on the wall. Revelry.

These are mine.

I’d show you but

No one else can see

It’s already made up

Tiny worms. self absorbed.

Part of me.


Circumstantially we were neutered there together in those halls in the walls of lockers. Pawns

I never meant that I would stick like glue and hang around

flies in the trap never touch the ground

I was born in the master decay just moved on

1000 years later my father would die

and you’re the one they’re standing by his side

feeding back the rules the lives

the words from tomes dictated. to us in disguise

What makes people stick around their hometowns I’ve never known

Just nurse his wounds as you lick your own

Divorced dead Eyed

house made. homegrown.

The calm before….

I can just feel another one coming

A dull thumping

A dog barking for food

Or the cries of your love in a cage

I thought this would be over soon

A quite decent calming sequence

No more questions

No more rage

Than the tick. Tick. Tick.

I am a decent man

Hidden behind my whiskey beard

Tattoos frozen in the sand

Walk with me


Maybe your eyes will understand

When I Fly

Even the largest trees
look tiny against the Indiana sky
some words about god were spoke to me
who do I follow? a Hoosier asked me why

smaller still I see
pawn shops and autobody lies
we are not students sent to learn to be
but to help you learn to cry

just build it up to tear it down
so we grow that coping frown
write the words to erase
its ok. Your son is gone.
yet you still take it out on pawns



to listen to me
like your tiny trees
leaves tired of being green
bring me home, lesson complete

its about being together
and not being alone in the sky