June 11, 2016

Neon streams of light dance around me as I enter the Room of Wonders. The spectrum of color moves in all directions as voices fade in and out of earshot. Shadows glide across the velvet space to a counter embellished with sparkling chains, like makeshift humans gravitating toward an open bar. Every creature is occupied by the roving screens in front of them. They concentrate in dumbfounded awe. My party of ghouls disperse into this transcendent room and disappear altogether. Tonight is their night to make a killing. Before I join the fray, my pocket machine pings. Transmission received from unknown sender. “I love you,” the message reads. My mind reels. What words to utter in this place of marquees and dreams. I’m peeved. My anger rises. Those words don’t belong in this place. They don’t belong to me.


May 4, 2016

Dear Ghost:

Give me your origin of reverie,
your unwavering spirit of belief,
your monsters of old treachery,
the sand you hide beneath the blighted sun,
I have searched long for your ways,
lost as I am time and again,
in this layered state of chaotic order.


April 15, 2016

Tick, tick, tick. This time, it’s right. Finally right. The quietness of a moment is all I need. My mind clears. The roads are clear. I can move on without my wheels. The tireless rush of blood to my head stops for a moment of oxygen, good enough to subdue my senses and bring me home. I don’t need to be more than I am, no more than my heavy skin and bones. What’s a life worth these days? I owe everyone nothing but the generosity of a night’s closing. The moon ahead guides me to the intersection of revelatory two way lanes and layered synthetic melodies. Let me run headlong into the cave of wonders.


December 21, 2015

I’m older now,
I know too much of what’s not there,
I’ve come and gone in the blink of an eye,
I run like the wind,
the wind of a well-oiled machine,
I think I know my desires,
I know my fears,
I act on these fears,
I’m hindered by my ghosts,
I cave into myself with age,
because I no longer believe in us,
I don’t believe the world is mine,
I see that everything hurts me,
so I fold into my thoughts,
I slink away and into the corner,
but I was grand once,
I closed my eyes and let you lead me,
I held my breath and jumped into the sea,
I was invincible and spectacular,
it was all before the long storm,
the call of the taming,
the inevitibility of growing up.


December 20, 2015

I see the way the eyes betray the assertion,
the way the truth swirls like thick smoke in the core of the retinas.
I can hide much fiction without difficulty,
but the eyes, they betray me every time.
I see the way they look at me, these old eyes,
the weight of their stare,
and how deeply they feel for me.
They apologize to me, out of reverent pity.
These eyes grasp the gravity of the situation they have created,
and they know the depth of their actions.
They see how ill-equipped I am for this world,
how woefully exposed I am to the dangers that be,
how my state of being could change in an instant.
They are my creator, these aging eyes,
they are the eyes that bought me into the world,
and they are the eyes that see who I have become for it.


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