ace of spades
at full volume
as the coffee
maker sputters
the vise grip
squeezes out
lavender arcs
and if i let it
the day will be
awash in ephemeral
darkness and lost
instead i stutter
jerk in a spastic
rictus as iggy
screams about
being my dog
overloading the
flashes into a
sonic haze as
batteries soak
my tongue and
the stinging nettles
raise angry red
reminders to the
best laid plans of
mice and fools

a creature of
carefully regimented
routines in an
obsessive hope
to keep the demons
always whispering
held safely at bay
well aware the
demons are in charge
of the planning
committee and the
double letters in
committee feel almost
mississippish in
design as i flail
in another spiral
because the goddamn
routines don’t do
anything at all
just bipolarity
superstitions as
effective as a pinch
of salt over the
left shoulder or
avoiding my reflection

we are all
immaculate disasters
leaving furrows
in the soil
six feet deep
to prove we
actually existed

nothing else
except pain
is ever promised.