the sky seething gray over a dehydration in shades of brown promising chaos by the bucket a cold front after so long broiling the sparrows are silent today an indictment against the storms betraying the calm hanging heavily the impending rain lending a sinous sort of suffocation to an already morbid affair

hidden away in a parking garage taptaptapping another poem to being lost in yesterday’s embrace a caterpillar gorging on leaves with no hope of ever flying

it isn’t writer’s block it is more writer’s apathy the words hover about yet i can’t be bothered to listen this too shall pass probably it isn’t as if there is money in it just silence because no one wants to deal with a bipolar fool

where is the divide between living and simply existing at what point does the robotic nine to five routine replace being alive i hide and scribble inconsequential little things broken by moments of unexpected bliss before returning to unrequited daydreaming but days go by where i merely go an automaton alone

i am filled to overflowing with a sense of emptiness a contradiction in numbed thought incapable of finding a spark with which to burn it all down simply sitting by the lake edge surrounded by an indifferent world one day i will leave my shoes and phone on a picnic table and barely a ripple […]

there seems to be a black cloud hovering just over me a corpulent storm forming full of dire tidings a flash flood warning sounds the mania shifting toward the negative pole a resounding sounding a repellent repugnancy as like charges do little to sustain a semblance of home a jagged sine wave showing wasted potential […]

it would be more acceptable to have remained solitary rather than find like minded people who turned away without a word the loneliness is manageable it is the betrayal that grinds me down disappointment in myself for not seeing the truth of things before it fell apart people ask why i stopped going to conventions […]