endless

woke up into a dream, a seamless transition, running through the park, dark footsteps shadowing my own, heart racing, sat up in bed glad the dream was over, got up to get a glass of water, only my bed was floating over forever

clutching my lion blanket, my constant companion since my childhood home burnt to the ground at four, vertigo induction as shimmering nebulae called from the dark

as i stared into the abyss, the infinite nothing and everything, the resounding slaps of past loves across bruised cheeks, every wish upon a star a million years to late, wasted words of regret

i fashioned the blankets into a rope, a hangman’s knot around my ankle, tied to the headboard with practiced movements, knowing to leave a little slack

misunderstood calculations, calculus another class i skipped, skipped, skip to the loo to smoke weed, unable to justify physics in a world of flying bumblebees

seems foolhardy, this fool hardly speaks an utterance non-monosyllabically, the uncapitalized i in an ocean of flailing poetry

ain’t no condemnation like self condemnation, like no damnation i know, signed up for solitary imbibement, threw the book at myself and swallowed the key to success

rejecting my own organs, reflecting on past indiscretions, reshaping the narrative into easy to read cartoon cutouts of making peanuts scatalogical, a kernel of wisdom in a sea of sallow anemia

my own worst anemone, salt crusted gills and flopping across a beach near you, to be near you, to see you one last time and say i’m sorry, not that i mean it, but i mean it, just not sure which part

dangling participles, hanging from another inconsistent simile to offset euphemism, foreshadowing the wax ring, discoloration from hanging on by the skin of my teat

circumcising the globe, removing the sensitive parts in an effort to appease the shapeless father, formless and angry, stomping through legoland like an incontinent thunder lizard

hanging off the bed in the infinite realm, abandoned all hope, traded in my dreams for three magic beans, a beanstalk recreation of nine eleven, revoked pilot license, evoked desperation

decrease oxygen flow to the cocked pit in my stomach, acid reflux and blood spit into the sink, the bright red staining the porcelain, unable to face the mirror

harkening back to a simpler time, when the lies of happy endings where bite sized, premasticated childhood fancies, candy coated ipecac, where the handcuffs have fur lining and pink hearts etched into steel

acid on my vocal chords, raspy cries over heavy leaden tongue, unable to form the words, the secret passphrase and ten cent decoder rings of innocence lost

x-ray spex in hopes of voyeuristic endeavors, now ads for erectile dysfunction and get rich quick schemes, the only one who profits is sitting on an empire of dimes

if i had twenty thousand dollars for every nigerian prince that needed my help, or lottery i won in a foreign land, i would rub two nickels together and soar like a comet

a simple combustion engine, pressurize the vapors of past dalliances, a spark, a piston pumping, exhaustion forced through a folded man, a manifold, powered by hoarseness

dilly dallying down another crowded alleyway, waystones, waypoints, weigh stations, floating away, down down the darkness persues, persuasive and pensively penning bad poetry

the next one will be the great one, the one that launches me into the stratosphere, a meteoric rise and fall, asteroids and asterisks, cursing common commonality

just need to cut more air into the intake, adjust the throttle arm, turn the screws and show this world what jetfuel and throwing up in a spacesuit looks like

am i still dreaming, have i finally cracked, a never ending series of doors, each opening to a new realm of insipid honey coated lies, cut down to size, the words sharpened and sheared

and as the loosely tied knots of the blanket come undone, slipping under the bed, into the endless night, i wonder if i will awake again, trapped in another dream

or is this mercifully the end

endlessly spinning in the mire, trapped in desire, limply loathed and set afire, this funeral pyre, here lies the illterate poet, the fool and the liar

4 thoughts on “endless

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